"Your Tubbo"

Awake.

A/N Please note that this is being completely rewritten and may not be perfect. I abandoned writing this back in 2020 and can't remember most of what I had written or where I was even going with the ending but we shall see. Nonetheless, please enjoy and please take some of your time to tell me what you think in the comments, thank you :) - Mia

Tommy wakes up, dazed in the middle of what appears as nowhere. A dirty, colourless tent sits neatly in front of him, the blinding sun to the left of him. How long had he been asleep? He wanders his gaze over to the crater created moments before this...well, whatever this is. The boy was so out of it, that the blazing fire wasn't even the first thing he noticed. He tries to make out what the blurry shapes are around him. The burning smell of smoke infiltrates his nostrils, the fire slowly growing bigger and jumping from one tree to another. He doesn't recognize where he is at all. The smoke arising from the burning trees below only gets higher, and he takes another look around at the flames.

Holy fucking shit, I need a bucket, he thinks to himself. Tommy slowly stands up, noticing he's trembling, uses both hands to do so, and looks around him once more. He runs a shaky hand through his golden locks, he forgets what he stood up to do. Concentrate. The boy wipes his eyes with his forearm and lets in a quiet, sharp inhale through gritted teeth. His arm was covered in bandages. Perhaps they were there in an attempt to stop any bleeding before he had fallen asleep. Beads of sweat gather at his hairline and drip slowly down his forehead, he eventually remembers what he stood up for.

Frantically, Tommy ran to find any iron, or a bucket, anything that could put out the fierce and almost maniacal flames that only happened to get bigger and bigger. He noticed it was getting harder to breathe. An empty bucket lay on the ground. Everything was in pain and he didn't know why. Again, should we reiterate, what the actual fuck.

The boy ran. He ran and he ran as fast as he could to the ocean washing up on the sand. He throws himself on his knees, waiting for a wave to fill the bucket. Jesus Christ. FINALLY. The bucket was full, and he swiftly stood up, gaining a painful head rush that quickly went away. He hurled his arms in front of him, launching every drop of water into the destruction. Groaning, he stares at the fire instead as if maybe giving it a death glare would kill the spark. But alas, it wasn't enough. The flames ride higher and stronger than before.

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An hour later, it was finally over. Exhausted, headache pounding behind tired eyes, the adolescent lay down on the muddy grass next to what could only be a burning tent, dripping in water. Tears started rolling down his pale cheeks before he could process what was happening. It burned. His tears burned, why did they burn? Pretty sure that's not meant to happen. He winced. He fell asleep, unbothered. Well, before being brutally woken by wailing, sobbing maybe even screaming. My fucking EARS bitch.

The voice is so unfamiliar, and so is the name he's shouting. Hesitantly, he stands, following the voice. It came from a small fluffy-haired brunette boy with a round face and bright blue eyes. The right side of his face is completely scarred. Meaning the same eye on the right side of his face is white. Blind. There was no pupil, just colorless. Two small, ram horns poke out through his fluffy brown hair. He's dotted with freckles and clad in an unbearably neat suit. A once-white, blood-spotted shirt, covered by a black waistcoat and a scarlet tie. His trousers, though a bit too big for him, are held up by a black leather belt. The leather boots he wore were black too, but not shiny. This dude means business.

He's holding another boy in his arms, he is thin and pale. His red sleeves and not-so-white shirt are also splattered with small dots of blood, eventually pooling in the middle of his stomach. Maybe they're brothers, Tommy thinks, maybe I should say something. Maybe, maybe, maybe.