𝐦𝐜𝐲𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 !

boys don't cry | tubbo

𝘢/𝘯: 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘮𝘱 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘰, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘰 😔

𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘵! 𝘪 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘵, 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘣𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘺! 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 :)

                                  -

tubbo, betray, hunt down and kill your best friend and your former president. tubbo, become a spy and risk your life for me because i say so. tubbo, do this. tubbo, do that.

toby is exhausted.

he sits on the edge of his (their) bench, body curled in a tight ball with his hands covering his tightly screwed-up eyes. perhaps, if he wills it hard enough, the world around him will disappear and he'll wake up to tommy and wilbur fighting about some petty thing in the corner or floris and alastair whispering coyly, tangled together on the loveseat. and it'll all be back to normal.

but it's not normal anymore. because floris is gone and eret is gone and wilbur is gone and tommy- tommy has left him alone to rebel against an all-powerful dictator who could order his death in one flick of his wrist. everyone's left him. everyone apart from schlatt.

he wants to like schlatt. there's admiration there, in the ruthless way he works to make his nation a better place and how he tirelessly aids his citizens first-hand. he knows how to wield power, something toby has never been savvy at. he's always followed behind and just tried his best to keep up.

schlatt likes him too. probably. the way he shouts and threatens toby is scary, but now he thinks about it, that's no different to how wilbur and tommy treated him. the careless way they talked down to him, sitting on their thrones so far above everyone in l'manburg, greedy and power-hungry.

did they ever even like him?

tommy maintained that he did, and in some rare moments it truly felt that way. but schlatt says otherwise, whispers secrets to him that wilbur drunkenly let slip when they were still on the same side. the seeds of doubt are sewn so deeply under his skin that he can't rip them out so he scratches and digs at the thin veins that trail up his arms fruitlessly in an attempt to dislodge the fear. the skin there is red and raw with the hope that schlatt is lying to him. the scabs hurt, but it's nothing compared to the pain he feels when he thinks about how tommy left him alone.

stray tears drip through the cracks in his hands and he wipes them away furiously. schlatt said boys don't cry and schlatt is always right, right?  schlatt took toby's hand when everyone left him and made him something important. someone important. because he was meaningless before schlatt, the sidekick to tommy, the forgettable one.

they won't forget him anymore. who cares if he's on the right side, people will respect him and care for him if he stays by schlatt's side. he should be happy. he's going to be happy.

but he's missing something. he's empty. he can see niki feels it too, behind her blank, red-rimmed eyes she's breaking in two. schlatt enjoys taunting her for show, ripping her heart into tiny little pieces and stamping on them in front of an audience. even toby thinks it's a little far, she was in love with the man for god's sake, but that's what those who aren't true to their country get.

he would comfort her, but each time he flinches instinctively towards her, schlatt's careful hands guide him back to his side. schlatt says he's special. he doesn't need her, or wilbur or- or tommy.

he's wrong though. because behind his bright eager mask toby is breaking too. he needs tommy to tell him everything is okay, to crack some obscene joke, to be there. doesn't matter that tommy probably hates his guts and that he should hate tommy as well, it doesn't matter because despite it all, he actually misses tommyinnit.

so he's sitting here, on their bench, and watching his world fall apart and trying to pretend he isn't there.

sad, isn't it.