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-two-

A car driving by. A dog barking at said car. The humming of the silence. A knock at the door. "Tubbo?"
He was facing the wall. He didn't answer. His sister sat at the edge of the bed. "I know you're awake. Um, mom wanted me to remind you that you start therapy tomorrow and that you should probably get some rest." She waited for a response, then sighed and walked out.
The first year without Ranboo was rough on him. He had watched his best friend, the one who helped him through his hardest time get killed, and he knew it was his fault. School kept him occupied, he spent a majority of his time on his education and socializing. The day of his graduation he broke down. Ranboo and him talked about their plans after. They would get a house in the snowy mountains. With nothing to focus his time on, all he thought about was Ranboo.

The car ride was silent. He barely talked to his family anymore. He preferred listening. He refused to take his hearing aids off anymore. Last time he didn't have them, well, it cost him Ranboo's life. His mom pulled in to the parking lot. They both waited for each other to speak first. She knew he wouldn't, but she still had hope. She turned to him. "How are you feeling?" she asked. Tubbo shrugged. She held out her hand. He looked at it, then at her, then grabbed her hand. She nodded and walked out of the car.

"You don't have to talk, but I promise you it will make our sessions easier and might even help you". His therapist, Phil, seemed nice enough. He tried to make small talk, but Tubbo wasn't feeling it. He had spent the past months in his room, which is why his mom decided to take him to therapy. "Okay, we can just sit here." Tubbo looked around the room. There was a table to the side with a small sand box and a tiny rake. One wall had bookshelves filled with books. He wondered if they were real or just props. The back wall had windows with curtains covering them. The door was to his back, but he remembered there being motivational posters. The other wall had pictures of what he assumed to be Phil's family and paintings of scenery. They were all good, but the one that caught his eye was a snowy mountain with a little house in the middle.
"Did you make those?" Tubbo asked, pointing to the paintings. Phil shook his head. "My oldest son did, he was very talented". Tubbo looked away from the painting and at Phil. "Was?" Phil nodded. "He's passed." Tubbo looked back at the paintings. "He was my best friend. He had their whole life ahead of him," he turned back to Phil. "They both did".

i just got a job :o i wonder what me from when i started writing the first story would say. thats it, take care of urselves <3
-P