Vengeance

6- Grief

It had felt like a blur.

Every hour since those fateful minutes felt like nothing.

He missed his best friend.

They had known each other for years and had been inseparable right up until he became president. Tubbo regretted agreeing to rule the country, he had only brought himself and his friends pain. Worst of all, he had killed his closest ally.

The brunette clutched his forehead, chocolately locks woven between his fingers. Sobs fell from the boy, quiet yet just audible as he sat on the edge of a wooden bench. A juke box hummed nearby, it's needle remained up due to the absence of a disk yet the turntable still spun.

It had been barely a day.

Barely a day since he had seen it all unfold.

Since he saw his best friend take his own life.

Right before Tubbo's own two eyes.

He had watched every second, the boy had fallen in front of him in slow motion, the scene was engraved in to his mind in vivid detail.

Tommy was falling, his arms were loosely by his side as he plummeted down, head first, straight towards the ground. Rags of his once sharp fashion loosely adorned his accelerating body. His eyes were closed. Tubbo yelled out in agony as his friend passed out of sight.

Tubbo remembered less after that, just crying, feeling alone and being brought home by Dream. He had comforted the boy for a short while after they returned. When the tall hoodied man left, he told the boy he was going to fetch Tommy's body.

Tubbo broke down at the thought of his once bubbly friend being reduced to a cold, lifeless corpse.

"Tommy couldn't actually be dead, right?"

Tubbo denied the fact he had watched his friend fall.

"I bet it was all a joke, am I hallucinating? Must be the stress from trying manage a nation" He whispered to himself.

He heard the gentle tapping of footsteps on wood as the masked man placed his hand on Tubbo's shoulder, then the taller embraced him in to a hug. He began weeping once more at the thought of what the man might tell him.

"Tubbo..." The man started, "I found him."

The brunette shifted around to face the man better, brought up his fists and began hitting the masked man on the chest, eyes scrunched, teeth gritted.

"I didn't want you seeing him how he ended up, I've buried him near where he died." The man continued.

Tubbo wailed loudly into the green hoodie that adorned the man's chest.

His best friend had left him.

He was alone.

The man in green hugged the boy tighter, clutching him silently as the boy wept. He gently played with the boys soft brown hair in an attempt to ease his pain.

Around ten minutes passed as they remained in that position.

"The funeral will be tomorrow." The man in green stated, pulling himself away from the mourning boy.

The masked man turned and walked away, towards the nearest nether portal.

Tubbo broke down again, falling down to the bench, hitting it softly in rage.

"Why did I have to exile him?"

"It's all my fucking fault!"

"He fucking died because of me!"

Tubbo yelled these into his hands which clutched the weeping boy's face.

"Tubbo?"

The boy turned at the sound of a ghostly voice echoing his name.

Ghostbur.

The yellow clad ghost floated towards Tubbo and wrapped his arms around the boy, holding him tightly as the boys tears sizzled against the ghostly form.

They stayed like that for a while until the boy had calmed down to the point that he could talk. The ghost felt as if it was time for him to ask.

"Tubbo, what happened?"

The ghost saw tears well in the boy's eyes again which he gently wiped with his soft yellow sleeve. The boy sniffled but made an effort to speak.

"T-Tommy..."

The ghost held the boy tightly.

"Tommy's dead."

The ghost felt his face drop. He hadn't seen either boy in a while. Now as he clutched the remaining one, blue tears began to run down his pale cheeks.

He pulled the boy's head in to his chest and clutched him tightly, nestling his own head in the crook of the boy's shoulder.

They stayed there, clutching each other, weeping.

A few hours later, a young man dressed in black and white walked up behind them. He was tall for his age, had soft two tone hair with pointed ears and his eyes glowed red and green respectively. A few other people, all shorter than the first appeared shortly behind him. There was a dark haired man in a beanie, the shortest, a red haired man with fox ears matching his hair tones, a dark haired man with a bandana, a brown haired man in a dark hood and a regal looking tall man, almost matching the height of the first with a crown adorning his chestnut hair.

"Tubbo..." The two tone began.

"We heard what happened with him." The red haired man solemnly said. "Dream told us."

Tubbo peeked at the men from the comfort of Ghostbur's shoulder. He sniffled slightly and then buried his head back in to the soft fabric of the older's jumper.

The two tone looked away while the foxlike man stared sadly at the pair on the bench, his ears drooping. The rest of the group turned and went their separate ways to give the boy more time, all except the ginger man.

"We'll see you tomorrow, Tubbo." The red haired said, turning and walking in the same direction as the two tone.

The boy clutched Ghostbur. He wasn't ready to say goodbye.

Ghostbur held Tubbo on his knee, he moved the boy forwards a little to look directly in to the boys seafoam eyes.

"It's going to be ok Tubbo." The ghost said, wiping the boys tears after wiping his own, the sleeve becoming damper with each pass.

"But he's gone..." Tubbo mumbled, looking down to avoid eye contact.

"I was gone once, but look at me." He said softly, flashing a small hopeful smile.

"What are you saying, Ghostbur?" Tubbo said with a sniffle.

"He might come back too."

At those words, Tubbo's eyes widened. He hadn't thought of that. A spark of hope appeared and just as quickly went out.

"What... What if he doesn't want to come back..." Tubbo thought out loud. "He killed himself, he made the choice to end it... Why would he want to come back to a traitorous friend who abandoned him?"

The boy muttered that last sentence with a sob.

Ghostbur placed a hand on the back of the boys head and pulled him closer, letting the boy weep in to his woollen jumper. The ghost stared off in to the distance as he thought. A single drip of blue ran down his cheek as the sun began to dip in the sky, darkening its azure haze.

This was the first night they both knew Tommy wouldn't see.