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Forever alone, Tommy thought, his lungs gushing out a small sigh as he stared around at the deserted room. Just before he had heard muffled screams from outside, from the entrance to the room; the fireplace, one's that had sounded like Ranboo and Tubbo. The worst part came when he heard a gunshot. He didn't bare to listen to anything else, he knew his friends were dead and it was his fault, if only he had never trusted this family in the first place.

A tear streamed down his cheek as he thought back to his family, his real family. He remembered the fun they'd had on holidays, he remembered the smiles that came with countless pictures as they stopped in between rides in theme parks. That was over now, and now he was just left with silence, not even the walls dared to speak to him.

The door to the room shifted a bit before someone stepped through: Techno. His red eyes gleamed in the flickering light. Once he thought this room was amazing, a room where you could just be by yourself, alone. Once he thought that was a good thing, well, now he knows the truth. It's more a prison.

"Hey Tommy, how are you doing?" Techno smiled, his grin evil like he was a different person.

Tommy didn't look at him, he just narrowed his eyes and turned his head to look at the dust covered floor he sat on, his crutch laying uselessly beside him. He wouldn't need this crutch if he still had a leg, and he most definitely would still have a leg if he'd never met this stupid so called 'family'.

He would never dare to voice that aloud, though, and so he kept his mouth shut.

He felt Technos smile fade, but still, he didn't dare to turn to look at him.

"Don't ignore me." Techno stated, glowering at Tommy though he couldn't see it.

"Leave me alone." Tommy cowered into the wall, his back hunched and facing Techno.

Techno sighed and dropped a bag Tommy didn't even care to notice he was holding.

"Just take the food, Tommy, and don't try to escape, we know how that went last time." He scowled and left the room, leaving Tommy vulnerable on the floor.

-/-/-

They stood in black suits and dresses, all in a straight line, tears racing down their cheeks every now and then. Tubbo had been invited to the funeral and was soon called up onto the stand to say a few words about his best friend.

His heart raced as he stepped up into the podium and took the mic. He took a deep breath before he started talking.

"Ranboo, he was amazing." That's how he would start it. "He was an amazing son, an amazing cousin, and most importantly for me," He paused and took a deep breath. "He was my best friend. When I first met Ranboo, I thought we'd be friends forever, lead a life of just him and me, we'd go to each others party, help each other with advice, I hate death for taking him this early." He went on about the day they first met and the day they became best friends, occasionally a croak in his voice and a tear would cause him a pause, but other than that he completed the speech with ease, except it seemed like easy. Really he was just caught up in thinking about what happened. He hadn't really had time to accept what had happened because still, the sound of the gun followed him everywhere.

The drove back to their house in silence, not a word could or would be spoken.

Tubbo tilted his head to look out of the window, watching the cars zoom by and the trees quickly leave his sight. It took the time for two blinks and they were back at the house, their mouths still zipped shut.

It went like this for a few days, Tubbo wouldn't leave his room and when he did, the surroundings were full of silence and condolences. That was until one day, Tubbo had to walk home from school.

His father who normally brought him back home through the car was caught up in a meeting and he knew his mother worked till late so she couldn't either. Since he'd only found out a little ago, he had already missed the bus.

His feet led him down the pathway back to his house, his eyes carefully studying the houses beside him. There was something off about them, they seemed familiar.

Tubbo stopped dead in his tracks when he saw it, his heart halted and his feet skidded on the concrete pavement abruptly.

A singular house, it was huge, it was the Watson's.

He looked back at where he came from. This was the only way he could get to his house, the other way would lead him further and further away from it.

He eyed the house carefully, his eyes narrowing into the windows as he made out the figure of a tall, slim man. Wilbur, it must've been Wilbur.

Tubbo hesitated before he sped towards the house, aiming to speed walk past it without having any of them see him.

But still, just right in front of the house, Tubbo stopped again, this time, though, it was because of something he heard; a name — Tommy's name.

His eyes shifted automatically to look back at the house, the figure in the window becoming all to clear now; it was Tommy, the boy in the window was Tommy, he was still alive, Tommy was alive.

Tubbo flipped his body to face the house and started sprinting towards the door. His mind actually started to work for a second and figured he shouldn't just barge into the house of the man who had killed one of his best friends and kidnapped the other. He then turned and directed his passage to sneak up towards the door and get Tommy's attention.

The window was slightly ajar allowing Tubbo to listen to see if anybody else was in the room with Tommy whilst he pressed up against the wall in an angle where nobody could see him through he window.

Tubbo was incredibly grateful he had stopped to listen, as of course there was in fact somebody with Tommy.

A boy taller than Tommy was standing there, his hair ruffled and wearing a yellow sweater. He recognised the boy as Wilbur and he felt his heart drop through his chest.

"So, you know what you have to do right?" Wilbur spoke, his voice full of power. After Tommy didn't answer he narrowed his eyes. "The police are starting to question your disappearance, Tommy, you have to tell them that you are alright. If you ask for help, you can say goodbye to that Tubbo guy."

Tubbo could pin point the exact moment in time that his stomach fell out of his chest, as soon as he heard his very own name.

He was next and he knew it.

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