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“He’s dead,” Sam says, full of guilt. In front of him, Tubbo hears, but he doesn’t process it - instead, he tilts his head back, and lets out a barking laugh. “Pardon?” Sam bawks, confused; shocked. Beside him, Ranboo looks at Tubbo with confusion, and then at Sam with disbelief.
“You’re lying,” Tubbo says, then, denial flooding his words. He pierces a nasty, bloody nail through his skin, but Ranboo knocks his hand away before it can get serious. “Tommy— he wouldn’t die that easily, Sam.”
“Well, he did,” Sam bites back, sighing. “I don’t— I need to go, but… be safe, Tubbo.”
When Sam walks away, Tubbo falls down, knees buckling weakly under him. Numbly, he stares down at the tattered grass, and pulls at it.
He doesn’t know why, but it’s comforting. Ranboo pats his back, and he looks shocked, too; numb, disbelieving, sad. Tubbo thinks he would, too, if he could believe it.
“Tommy’s not dead,” Tubbo speaks up, silently. “Is he?”
“Probably not,” Ranboo replies, smiling. Tubbo finds a bit of hope in it - hope that Tommy isn’t dead, maybe. Tubbo finds it stupid; Tommy can’t be dead. It’s them against the world, not… not Tubbo and Ranboo against the world, as much as he loves the hybrid. It's always been Tommy and Tubbo against the world - no one can replace that. “Let’s, uh. Let’s get you home, Tubbo.”
Tubbo nods, letting himself fall into Ranboo’s arms willingly. Ranboo picks him up, and they travel in silent, long strides.
Technoblade picks up the potatoes that were hurled to the floor in a desperate fit of rage. Last night, he’d been having some sort of wardrobe malfunction, and he’d accidentally gotten water in his eyes — water, for a nether hybrid, is like putting ice in your eyes; it wasn’t pretty.
And now, he’s having to pick them all up. There’s at least fifteen on the floor, and two squashed. He assumes he’d accidentally stepped on them or something - he doesn’t know.
However, when he sees Ranboo travelling back, eyes drooped, and a smile nowhere to be seen, he puts the potatoes down. Lately, he’d gotten more attentive to other people’s emotions as, begrudgingly, he’d had to live with two other occupants. Ranboo, who lived nearby, and Phil, who lived with Techno directly; they were fine, really, both of them. He was just antisocial.
But he got along with Ranboo, so it was fine. And, well, if he cared for the boy somewhat, he’d never tell.
Sighing, he slipped on his cape, and trotted out the door. “Ranboo,” He said, curtly. The boy turned to him, surprised, and then he smiled, sadly. “Are you— what happened in L’manburg?”
“Uh, fine,” He says, turning away. “Tubbo— he, uh. He’s not doing so great, but neither am I. We just got some, um… news. Wonderful, amazing news.”
Techno frowns, walking forward. He follows Ranboo into his little house, and he closes the door behind him.
“Well?” He asks, expectant. Ranboo turns toward him again, confused. “What was it? The news?”
“Oh,” Ranboo lets out. “Um… I don’t— you won’t care, but…”
Techno tapped his foot against the wood, then. He wasn’t impatient, just incredibly bored, but the hybrid didn’t take well to it.
“Tommy, he—”
“It’s about him?” Techno replies, eyes narrowed. Then, groaning, he lowers his head. “Oh god, what’d he do this time? Did he get exiled again?”
“No, he’s—” Ranboo begins again, but Techno interrupts him again.
“Did his hotel get burnt down?” Techno tries again, tapping a finger against his chin.
Ranboo stares at him, half-expecting him to start talking again, but when he doesn’t, Ranboo starts his sentence again; “He’s gone.”
Techno blinks, confused. “Heh?”
“Like,” Ranboo begins, unsure. “He’s dead. Dream took his last life.”
Techno’s eyes widen. “Wasn’t Dream in prison?” He asks, slowly.
Ranboo is apparently unaware of Technoblade’s inner turmoil as, innocently, he continues on; “He got locked in with Dream on ‘his last visit’ because there was a, uh, security malfunction?” He tilts his head as he speaks, confused, and then continues, “Anyway, today Tommy, uh, got into a fight with Dream, and Dream— he beat Tommy to death in the prison cell.”
“Beat…” Techno repeats, numbly. “Beat him to death?”
“Yeah,” Ranboo frowns. “Pretty brutal, right?”
Techno takes a deep breath in, then, unexpectedly, he whips around. “‘M goin’ back,” He tells Ranboo, and Ranboo, confused, nods. Techno trots away, numbly, like he’d just been told he couldn’t speak again for the rest of his life - “God, Theseus…” He mumbles, opening the door, and closing it softly behind him.
He sits down in the chair, and doesn’t move until his feet are too warm to move on, and he’s too indented into his memories to even notice the door opening.
“Techno?” Phil asks, gently. Techno looks up, but doesn’t reply. “Are you okay, mate?”
“Okay,” He replies, somewhat bitter - his little brother, who had betrayed him over and over again, had died today. Even though he hated Tommy, Tommy was— he was still his little brother. Tommy had still been the little gremlin who’d complain when Techno would ruffle his hair, or accidentally go too hard on him during training, or when he’d yell at Techno for suggesting potatoes for dinner for the fifth time that week. Tommy was still his little brother - that would never change. “Phil, what if Tommy died?”
Phil’s eyes widen, and he lowers himself into the seat across from Techno. “Uh, what?” He lets out, unexpecting of such a deep question. “Are you feeling guilty, Techno?”
“No,” Techno denied. “Just… Phil, answer the question.”
“Okay,” Phil says, pausing. “I don’t know, probably— I’d probably feel sad, maybe. Depends how he died, though, or what he did before.”
“He’s your child,” Techno said, bluntly. “And he’s my little brother.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Phil replies, confused. “What’s goin’ on, Techno? Did he get into trouble?”
“Trouble, yeah,” Techno sighs, burying his head into his hands. He doesn’t feel bad - he knew Tommy would die eventually; the boy was at the mercy of the strongest man on the server. But he never expected it’d be so… soon, and for no particular reason. “He’s dead.”
Phil processes it, and then his eyes widen. “Dead?”
“Dead.” Techno confirms, and he hears his father inhale sharply — another son down. Who was next, Techno? Or Phil?
“Oh god,” Phil lets out, shakily. “I— how— how’d he die?”
“Beaten to death,” Techno says, simply, before adding, “By Dream. In the prison.”
“In the prison?” Phil breathes out, confused; sad.
“He got locked in there with Dream because of a security malfunction,” Techno explains, slowly. “And then he was killed.”
It was silent for a while - Phil processed it, and Techno stared numbly at the roaring fire next to his foot.
Then, Phil spoke up again, “Is there going to be a funeral?”
“Probably,” Techno replies. “He has a few… friends.” The word ‘friends’ is like acid dripping from his mouth - Niki and Jack were far from it, but they would attend, wouldn’t they? Faking it, laughing behind their faces of grim; and then celebrating, maybe.
Yeah, they would celebrate. They would.
Techno tries to convince himself that Tommy deserved it - that his little brother deserved his grave to be spat on, to be hit, to be trashed, and for people to celebrate his death like it was a damn marriage ceremony.
But he doesn’t.
Techno sighs again. “Phil,” He speaks again, much lower than he usually does. “What do we do?”
“I…” Phil begins, unsure. “I don’t know, Techno.”