The Memories Within the Walls [Discontinued]

And it Waits

The mind plays tricks on perception sometimes.

Things are not where they're supposed to be. Something might be a different colour than what was initially believed. A dream leaks too far into reality, and suddenly it's possible to think that one is someone that they're not.

And Tubbo reasoned to himself that that was what had happened as his heart beat rapidly in his chest, as his muscles became too stiff to move, as his body screamed to run and stay still all at the same time. It was a trick of the light, a mix of reflections off of mirrors, and refractions off of glass, that the shadows could make anything look like it was present in the room with him, no matter if it were a fly or a man.

And yet, the way his body leaned forward, the way his mouth moved soundlessly. The way that — just for a brief moment — the boy could feel his expression change.

The thought that the house had been infiltrated by a stranger was not comforting. The thought that a man had snuck into the room at his most vulnerable was enough to make Tubbo tense up.

"Are you alright up there?" Tommy called from below, and it was enough to make him jump in surprise once more.

"Yeah?" He responded with as much confidence as he could muster, though to his ears they sounded like a mouse's squeak. "I just... I thought I saw something."

"Saw something? What, like a spider?" A chortle shot through the air, a welcome introduction of sound to fill the silence of the house.

"No!" Tubbo yelled defensively, his worries quickly forgotten as he rushed down the stairs like a bullet, ignoring the disappearance of the guitar from his floor.

To call it a kitchen would provide it too much credit. To call it a dining room would be even more so. Their room of foods was a counter, too small to do anything with. It was a mini fridge, barely enough to fit the fruits, vegetables, and all their other cold products that they had to store. It was a single cook surface, a camping burner that they had sitting in the middle of the table, cord just barely enough to reach the socket.

It was a sink. It was a window. It was two chairs around a table that should have more.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to finally make pancakes, edible enough for them to eat and laugh over. And wasn't that what truly mattered?

They giggled over song lyrics long left forgotten, gasped at the timings of the beats and the rhythm that seemed to let the words dance around them.

"She wrote an album, and that's something that I can't do." The faceless man sang, and even out of Tommy's weak phone speakers, Tubbo could tell that he was talented. Wherever he was — this Wilbur Soot — He perhaps had just earned himself a new fan.

"So what do you think?" Tommy asked, attentive and waiting for his friend's final verdict as the music played between them.

"I think..." The older boy began, his mind fighting to regain a sense from the sound that tried to drift him away. "I think it's amazing! Can't believe I've never heard of him before."

"Secondly, I know I haven't written much, You know the way I can be."

"Yeah!" His friend laughed, as excitement flooded through them both. "It's really a shame he never got any bigger than just an internet sensation. I really think if he kept going, he really would have gotten somewhere."

"What do you mean by that, Tommy?"

"Well," He shrugged. "He just... stopped posting songs one day. Disappeared off to whatever life he has. It's honestly part of the reason why I forgot about him. But then..." He waves his hand to the phone. "Sometimes, I remember. And his songs just make me smile."

Tubbo couldn't help but crack a smile at that.

"Me too."

They kept talking after that about other things. New video games being released, the trailers that had come out. Movies that they hoped to one day see. Rumours that flew around, conspiracies speculated in good fun.

And even when their breakfast was done, and when their mess had been cleaned, they still had much to talk about over the work that they brought with them, the studying they had to do. Where one boy was weakest, the other was surely stronger. Where one would hold their head in their hands in defeat, the other would help prop it up high.

It went well. Stress dispelled with laughter and jokes, Problems forgotten with words.

Until the man once again drifted into the foreground of Tubbo's mind, causing him to pale the slightest bit.

"Tubbo?" Tommy asked, his concern clear on his face. "Are you alright mate?"

"Yeah. I'm..." The boy hesitated, torn between the potential of false panic or the threat of real danger. "Tommy, I think I saw someone upstairs."

The other laughed, but Tubbo could see the flash of alarm in the way his body tensed up, in the way his eyes didn't show the same lax humour as his expressions did.

"Are you sure it wasn't a trick of the light?" He asked,

"No, I'm... Tommy, you locked all the doors last night right?"

"Well... Yeah." He replied, slightly offended. "But there's just no way— For fuck's sake, we're in the middle of the woods! Who would ever come out here?"

"The locals maybe? Or I think some people use the area to hunt. I dunno... I just..." Tubbo shook his head. "No, you're right. It was probably... Maybe I'm just tired."

"But you don't seem tired, Tubbo." Tommy frowned, and the boy could see his friend's thoughts turning, puzzle pieces fitting into place.

Then, suddenly he got up, letting his pencil clatter on the table's wooden surface. A spark of something lit his blue eyes; Was it an idea? Determination?

"Get up Tubbo." He said with a smile that the other knew all too well. "Let's go investigate this strange bedroom man."