Haunted

And screwed up endings

Tubbo POV
(Woah I'm switching things up, how cool is this)

It had been two weeks sense Tommy left, and no matter how hard we all tried to make it feel the same, we couldn't. Me and Ranboo were doing the opposite as Clay did when Wilbur died.

We were constantly in and out, never staying anywhere long enough to have to deal with what Tommy did. With how Tommy left.

We spent our days in the kitchen or the living room or anywhere else as long as it wasn't upstairs. At nights we would go out to the beach because we were waiting for Tommy to come back. No matter how foolish we felt, we had to try.

"When's he coming back, boo?" I asked him, as we sat on the beach." How much time does he need?"

"It's only been a few weeks, bo," he said, shaking his head. "It took him a year when Wilbur died the first time, I expect much more this time."

"Why didn't he tell us where he was going?" I questioned again. "Why didn't he take us with him?"

"Because, right now he needs something different," He sighed. "And we're not that."

"Oh, Ranboo I'm sorry," I realized. "I've been saying we implying us both but I've only been thinking of me. Boo, I'm sorry, you don't have all the answers and I shouldn't act like you do."

"Tubbo—" He tried.

"And then to make things worse I was only acting like it hurt me," I interrupted, not hearing him. "And I've dragged you along and not let you do what you've wanted."

"Tubbo—" he tried once more.

"And then you've been so patient with me and yet I still—"

"TUBBO!" He screamed, catching me and it seemed himself off guard. "I'm sorry, it's just well I was trying to speak and you know you were in your head and I was just trying to—"

"No," I cut him off again. "No you're right, you're in the right. I'm sorry, what were you trying to say?"

"I was just trying to say, well, um," He sighed, scratching his neck from anxiety. "I've been grieving with you. Just like we did for Tommy when Wilbur died."

"But we didn't grieve, Boo," I sighed. "We tried to help him to grieve. We've—no you've—just bottles up your feelings and threw them away. This isn't the way to grieve, you know that."

"I know but, it's just, I don't know how to grieve," He finally admitted. "I don't know how to move on, my way has always been to bottle up my feelings until I forget them and everything and everyone that's caused them. Literally."

"Phil knows how to grieve," I said after a while, looking back from the waves to face him. "I'm sure Techno knows how to grieve in his own way. Clay probably does, even Nick, George or Daryl could help us I guess. The way we've tried to do for Tommy."

"But it's different," He whispered, sounding broken. "It's just different."

"How?" I asked.

"We were closer in age to Tommy then they are to us," He spoke softly. "We went through more together at the SMP, and even Phil and techno wouldn't understand. They were his family by blood, us by choice. We feel differently, it's just all different."

"He chooses them too?" I questioned.

"I know he does," he tried to smile. "But it just feels different."

"There's something else though, isn't it?" I asked, reading between the lines. "Boo, talk to me. You know you can talk to me. We're husbands after all, we even have—had a child."

"That's just it Tubbo!" He practically yelled. "Everything, Everything, weve ever had at the SMP is gone. What if...what if I forget the SMP? I've already started to, when we didn't see Niki and Fundy for a few years I started to forget them. I knew, I knew, we had a baker girl and a fox but it's not the same."

"You're not going to forget the SMP," I said leaning on him. "We're here, all of us, to remind you."

"But that's just the thing Tubs," He shook his head. "I may not be be able to forget the SMP entirely, but what if Tommy's gone for a lot longer than we think. What if we stop talking about him, what if I forget him?"

"That's not going to happen," I said, firmly. "You're not going to forget him, you've been through too much. I wont let you. Trust me, I'll help you just like you're helping me."

"What would I do without you, bo?"

"You won't have to find out, that's what best friends are for."

Clay POV
(Well obviously I cam back to this, who do you think I am)

Me and William sat watching Tangled down stairs, in the living room. The others had been coming in and out, but right now it was just me.

"I'm cold." Wil whined, collapsing on top of me.

"That sucks," I laughed. "You aren't getting your hoodie back, hope you know that."

"That's not fair," he pouted. "Do you even have blankets in this house?"

"Hmmm, let me think about that," I said. "No, we actually don't have a single blanket in this house."

"Clayyyyyyy," He whined again. "Just tell me where they arrrrrrre."

"I think George and Daryl have stolen most of them, the only ones I have in my room go to the bed," I replied. "I think the only other ones we have are all in the attic."

"And I have to go get them all by myself?" He moped.

"Well, you didn't bring me an extra, extra hoodie," I teased. "So this is your punishment."

"Fiiiiiiiiiine." He groaned, getting up and heading up the stairs. I sat and continued watching the movie.

Nick came in a few minutes later, and looked around for a bit. He seemed oddly confused.

"Where's Wil?" He finally asked.

"Up in the attic getting a blanket." I shrugged.

"The attic?" He asked, his eyes wide.

"Yeah?" I responded, looking up from my phone. "What's wrong with that?"

"Clay, His note is up there."

"Shit."

Word count: 1038
Eyyyyyy double chapter (defiantly didn't have part of this written alr and just didn't want to do the last chapter and kept putting it off at all)