[Unfinished.] 'Till Death Do Us Part __ Tubbo X MALE Reader

1: Death Is A Dance

Your POV

I sit in an empty, plain white room, with dull and irrelevant paintings that mean nothing to what's happening right now.

All that matters is what's happening in the center of it all. I sit on a step, next a timber polished box, with flowers as white as plaster stuffed inside. And in the middle of all that beauty, there they lie.

My dear friend. Never to open their eyes again. Never to see their favourite colours, or eat their favourite foods. Never to laugh at my poorly crafted jokes.
Laying lifeless and bare, in a pretty little box. A coffin.

I feel my eyes being able to no longer hold back my sorrow, as I see my shiny black shoes catch drops of my tears that lay atop. Tears slip down my cheeks, at the life they once had. I wanna scream, and punch, and hurt myself... but I need to be strong. For them. They wouldn't want me to go batshit. I'm still 17. Only 17.

The funeral home smells like fresh new carpets, and it sickens me. I'm just sitting in a hollow room, with me, my thoughts, and a dead body. When grandpa died, I didn't go to his wake, I was simply a child, it would be too much for me. I remember crying in dad's arms and him holding me tight and crying with me, now the only thing that old man would hold is a beer bottle.

Him and Mum are in the other room, sorting things out with the coordinator, who honestly, seemed too cheery to be a funeral worker. Nothing for me to do but think. Tommorrows the funeral. And I have to say something. The euology it's called. I'm scared... I'm afraid I'll get anxious and freeze, make a fool out of myself at my friends funeral... how embarrassing.

I have a poem for them, I always write them. I used to show them, they loved them, even lamented some and kept them. This one I wanna use in the euology:

"Death is a dance.
A spiraling trance of a time so sad.
We weap at those once lost, as our tears spin and tread our faces.
The euoglegys words jump and dive down into our softened souls, bitter sweet as ever.
The pain we live, we stay with, we cherish, it glides with us.
It takes our hand, and leads us through, step by step.
Syncronised together as they pledge it's way through our weak minds with taunting ideas to drive one mad.
Spitting thoughts into our temples as it tangos it's way into our brains, with elegance and enchantment.
But how long can one dance for before 'tis feet bruise and bleed?
As it's legs get knackered and lifeless.
Thumping with great pain, the masochism of one's mind, that poisens ours.
While taking that final bow, we both come to terms with the lost, the found, and the forgotten.
Death is a dance, a dance of despair."

I spoke out loud. Heard my voice echo throughout the room, but who was gonna hear me now? Maybe part of me was hoping they would hear it and start complimenting them. "That was beautiful..." I heard him say. I jumped, could it be? Was he really alive?? I looked up to see a brunette boy, 'bout my age, or younger, wearing a black suit, and vans. His hair was a ruffled brown nest, but still looked perfect on him. He smiled at me with kind fond eyes. Part of me saw them for a second... but I realised, it wasent them. Such a fool I was to get my hopes high... this is no fairy tale unfortunately.

I slumped back into my regular position after realization hit me. I quickly wiped my eyes with embarrassment. "T-thanks..." I muttered low. He stood around for awhile awkwardly, then smiled at me nervously. "May I?" he gestured to sit next to me nervously. I nodded in response, I just didn't want to be Alone right now... not again...

The brunette boy say next me, keeping his distance. The silence was so loud, but I didn't care. I was too upset. "Did... you write that yourself?" He awkwardly asked breaking the silence. "...mhm..." I hummed. Why does he want to talk to me? I don't know him. He better not be looking down on me... I've had enough of that. "I don't like funeral homes..." Why was I talking? I don't care about him. I just want silence. "Y-yeah hah, I hate them... first time?" He asked. "Yup." I murmured. "Listen, man, I'm not interested In your conversation, I don't need pity right now okay? I just need silence."I snap. He looked taken aback and abit attacked. "What? Nononono! Im not pitying you! I swear! I just... know your situation.." he muttered. Abit more silence went on, but it felt abit more comftorble. "I was... their classfriend..." He spoke up. So that's who he is. I was so confused, thought he was just some stranger, so he actually knew them. "I was their best friend." I said, not bragging, just stating a fact. "I'm so sorry... you knew them better than me obviously... that's not pity! It's genuine." He said kindly. "...thankyou...guess we're both in this shit.." I state. "I guess so... hah.." he awkwardly chuckles. I take a glance at him. He's really pretty up close. His eyes are shiny and coffee brown, with dimples perfeclty placed on his cheeks, and pretty spot scabs and bruises from picking them I'm guessing.

"I'm [Y/N]." I randomly say.

"Tobias, but call me Toby," Toby smiles with happiness and puts his hand out to shake it.

Of couse, I take it.

Hope u guys liked thattt and the poem I wroteee. Let's see how this goes.

-Jacks