Why Can't We Laugh Now Like We Did Then?

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*SNEEZING*

Why hello! :D I know it may be a bit of a surprise to just completely throw this story out on a whim after I claimed this story was done being updated, and at this point, I don't think I'll ever be done updating this thing. The MCYT community has been such a positive influence on my life, and I think I'll keep writing stories like this for a while, just with scarcer updates since writer's block has been hitting me like a TRAIN. 

I don't really want to keep this intro tooooo long, so all I'm going to say is happy 40 chapters, thank you for sticking with me through this crazy oneshots book, I appreciate all of you, and onto the story. :]

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Tommy nearly snarled under his breath, trudging through feet of thick cement-like snow. Leaking through his rather thin pants, wetting his legs, and caking to his thighs, it would be a miracle if the blonde got away with just a cold.

A cold breeze went by and snapped at his hands, blue to the tips. Trees bristled in the uncomfortably frozen air, and he began to feel as stuck as they were. Their roots were similar to his feet, which were numb and beginning to burn, their stiff, frozen pine needles as prickly as the pins and needles that covered his goose-bumped arms.

Finally, through the flurrying, flakey snow that insisted it was better off in his hair and caught in his long lashes rather than coating the trees, he saw a close vision of a familiar cabin. A thick trail of smoke rose from its chimney, puffing hot breaths into the cold sky.

One foot moved, a step that felt as heavy as anchors, and it might as well have been with the amount of snow patched onto his tan pants. A humorous thought slipped into his mind at such a dire time like this - a time where any wrong move in this blizzard could lead to him sleeping soundly in the suddenly so warm snow, a blanket draped atop him - a thought that said, "It's time for new winter gear."

The thought wasn't wrong, he decided with a soft hum carried away by the conversation of wind, the cabin appearing closer and closer with each teeth-chattering step, but that doesn't mean he could act on it. On the essempii, there weren't exactly casual clothing shops. In fact, he had sewed and knitted the majority of his closet, and the items he hadn't were simply hand-me-downs.

Thinking must have distracted him the whole way because before he knew it, the next step was onto a harsh wooden staircase. With a smile of joy, he slowly trudged up the stairs, the four steps feeling more like forty, before trembling in front of the door.

Now, Tommy was a big man. The self-proclaimed biggest man on the essempii in fact. And although he'd like to blame the trembling on the blizzard and the mounds of snow seeping into his skin, it wasn't all that. He wasn't scared of his best friends. But recently they've been more and more distant, and of course, they have a child now, but they've made no room for Tommy.

Being a clingy teen who's recently been through life, a long and impatient thing, death, sitting in a dark limbo alone, and revival, he's still scared of his heartbeat, all at once, especially going through it all with nobody but your murderer and your chaos thirsty excuse-of-an-older-brother, he could say that he needed just a little bit of attention. Maybe, just a hug instead of being replaced immediately after his death.

The thoughts dispersed as a familiar face greeted him at the door. Tangled brown hair that had grown out over the months - however, tied up lazily at the front so swirling brown eyes stared back, floppy goat ears that hung loosely from the sides of the other's burnt face, small, forming, curling goat horns sprouting from the wild hair - it was almost a relief when he opened the door.

Keyword almost.

It wasn't relieving when a distressed squeal echoed through the house, and Tubbo's scowl deepened.

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