In which the curtains close.

      Or, the climax of the symphony.

"GO GO GO GO!"

Tommy put his shield up as he rushed towards Eret's tower, jumping into the safety on the build as fiery arrows rained down behind him.

"GO UP THE LADDER, THEY'RE UP THERE!" Someone yelled as Tommy hoisted himself up the ladder.

"NO SHIT, SHERLOCK!" Tubbo yelled back.

Suddenly Tommy stopped, remembering when Wilbur and he climbed up here, Schlatt's echoing voice.

"OI!" Quackity yelled up at him. People seemed to be doing so much yelling today. "GET A MOVE ON!"

Tommy clambered up the rest of the ladder, shooting an arrow towards someone's foot. It nearly missed, and the person that was there shot an enderpearl off the side of the building. Tommy looked up at them.

Dream's mask was tilted up, and he winked the split second before he grabbed Schlatt and disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.

"THEY'RE ON THE GROUND!" Tommy yelled out, notching another arrow in his crossbow and he searched the ground, Dream reappeared, scattering with the rest of his team.

"I GOT ONE OF THEM!" Techno yelled, and Tommy looked over at Quackity as he watched Karl fall to the ground and army crawl his way to safety. He tore his eyes away, shooting at someone else.

"Should we go after them on the ground, Tommy?" Eret said to him breathlessly from his right.

Tommy looked around at his allies crowded on the 2nd floor. They leaned off the sides, shooting down at the running targets below.

None of them were trained warriors except for Techno. No one knew how to kill without remorse.

But yet they still shot with seemingly cold expressions.

Tommy remembered what Wilbur had said.

They had love.

He trusted Wilbur that love would get them by.

"LET'S GET THEM FROM THE GROUND!" Tommy yelled back to his friends.

And then he leaped off the balustrade.

He felt the wind whistle beneath his arms as he fell from the tower.

And the seconds he was in the air, he watched a firework explode, fire falling back down to the earth with him.

He hit the water and stood back up, firing his crossbow.

Clothes clung to his skin as he notched another arrow, aiming for Punz. Before he could fire, Techno had slammed Punz to the ground, firing another firework without looking. It exploded in front of Dream a split second after he stepped behind a cracked glass structure.

Tommy's ears rang again, but he grinned.

"TUBBO!"

Tubbo appeared at his side, looking down.

"Yeah?" He said quietly.

He flinched as another firework was fired. Tommy put a hand on his shoulder.

"Stick close, mate."

Tubbo nodded, covering Tommy's back as Purpled tried to lunge forward with his sword. He shot his arrow, lodging into Purpled's shoulder. He staggered away.

"IT'S DREAM!" Quackity screamed from his spot, slashing at the seemingly empty suit of armor in front of him. The armor darted off, vaulting on top of a building.

"GET HIM!" Tommy yelled, shooting his arrow at the figure as it rolled off the building again. The invisible figure bounded off to the side as arrows sprouted at his feet.

Tommy sprinted forward, slashing his sword at the armor, and a sword clanged against his. Dream swung his sword, knocking Tommy's aside. He took off running again as Quackity shot another arrow.

"HE'S RUNNING AWAY!"

Tommy grinned at Tubbo.

"We're winning!" A smile spread across Tubbo's face.

They ran towards their allies as they pushed Dream towards a pond.

Then with a clang and a clatter, Dream yelled out:

"WILBUR!"

His mask was cracked in half, and he leveled his gaze at the man with the beanie that stepped out.

"We need to talk."

And it was over.

That quick.

Wilbur was right.

He put his weapons on the ground and smirked.

"We surrender."

And Tommy thought he saw him wink at Wilbur.

"Because Schlatt is an idiot."

Quackity snorted. "Glad you figured that one out."

"I have something to show you all."

"How do we know that it's not a trap?" Tommy asked, but still followed them.

And the weapons stopped sounding as they all followed Dream to the caravan.

---

The world was underwater, but JSchlatt could still hear.

It was the footsteps.

The war had stopped outside.

He lay in wait, on the floor.

He lay waiting for them, waiting for them to discover him.

They would find him soon.

They would help him, right?

And then all the voices were too loud, and he just wanted for them to go away.

The lights were so blaring and hungry, coming to eat him.

He was so scared.

He pulled his bottles closer.

He was so thirsty and so blurry and so small.

He took a sip, shutting his eyes tightly.

The voices grew louder.

"How do I know this isn't a trap?"

Tommy looked apprehensive, but he still stepped into the caravan.

Some place he used to call

Home.

Dirt and stone and only one piece of iron held it up.

And on the dirty floor laid Jschlatt, president of L'manburg.

And the crowd of soldiers looked down at the king.

And empty liquor bottles and cans formed the make-shift throne that he sat on, wasted and dirty.

JSchlatt looked up through a haze.

Everyone was silent.

Maybe a joke would cheer them up.

"Is this a surprise birthday party?"

He smiled dopily, hopefully, gone, gone, gone.

And Tommy looked down at the man who had ruined his life.

He looked like someone they could take pity on.

He no longer lived his life in bold.

He inhaled, and started coughing, breath stuttering in and out slowly, measuring.

He was measuring the seconds in between, when it would be over.

He gathered the bottles to his chest, hugging them tightly.

"Is this your leader, Dream?"

"No," Dream smiled down at the masterpiece before him. "He never was."

Schlatt felt so helpless on the floor, he didn't respond. The voices were too far away.

Could someone help him, please?

And Quackity felt whispers in his mind, power corrupts, power corrupts.

Purpled sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose. "Is he.... drunk?"

Alcohol radiated off his clothing.

And Schlatt wanted to scream back at him, yes, yes, can you please help?

And Tommy could never imagine that this man, this man could hold so much power and break bonds and destroy lives. He had taken away his home.

This man could do nothing.

This man was sad, pathetic, and weak.

This man was dying.

This man was already dead.

The eyes were still on him, like a circus show.

What did they want him to do?

It felt like the world was spinning when he got up.

Someone, someone had to help him up.

Were they just going to stand there?

A disappointed face poked its way into his vision.

"Fundy?" Schlatt's glazed eyes twinkled in recognition for a moment as his vision blurred in and out. "F-Fundy is that you?"

Discomfort and disgust was in Fundy's shoulders. "Schlatt, are you fucking drunk?"

A wave of heat and shame and anger washed over Schlatt.

"C'MERE YOU BITCH!"

People stepped away as Schlatt suddenly stood up like a wounded animal, barreling towards Fundy.

Glass shattered, and Tommy stepped away reflexively as shards flew everywhere.

Fundy bit his lip in a grimace as blood streamed down the side of his forehead.

"Listen to me-"

"I HATE YOU!"

Fundy threw his hands over his face and Schlatt barreled again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

"YOU LEFT ME YOU FUCKING LEFT ME YOU LEFT!"

And the people stood and watched.

"Stop." Wilbur's face was emotionless. "I don't want to see any more of this. Let him speak."

But Schlatt continued.

And Fundy's wrists felt prickly and in pieces, blood soaking through his clothing.

He just closed his eyes and covered his face and didn't cry and didn't make a sound and just hoped that it would stop.

"SCHLATT!" Hands pulled at his arms roughly, and Schlatt didn't recognize them. "PUT THE BROKEN BOTTLE DOWN! PUT IT DOWN!"

Schlatt let go and let the arms pull him back down, back into the dirt. His head hit the dirt with a thump, the bottle crumpled and bloody in his hand.

A figure stood above him.

"You had a dream and I followed it. But you- you-" Fundy summoned every single ounce of bitterness he had as he shivered and everything hurt because this was a man who he hated. But the bitterness and the hurt did not come from him, oh no.

His hurt did not just come from him.

Better to pretend it did.

"YOU RUINED IT! I-I THOUGHT YOU WERE SOMETHING!"

I know who you pretend I am.

"Oh, I am something." Schlatt wiped his mouth with his scotch-stained sleeve. His anger carried his words, and he knew he wasn't meaning was he was saying, he would never go that low.

But he did.

"I'M SOMETHING YOU'LL NEVER BE!"

"What?" Fundy spit out.

"I'M A MAN!"

Fundy stumbled back, flinching, and he couldn't help but glance at Wilbur, the only other person who would know what he meant.

And he thought he saw a flame.

Schlatt collapsed into the pile of his own filth. All the eyes penetrated his soul. And for the first time, Schlatt pitied the main character, because he felt himself at the center of attention, all his flaws and cuts and horrible things in sight and out in the open for everyone to see.

He would cower if he wasn't too concerned about the wobbling and shaking faces around him, and the moving ground beneath his knees. He coughed, sputtering.

"Are you ready to die now, Schlatt?" Wilbur's voice was calm, reigned in anger, ready to unleash. "Are you ready to fucking die?"

No, he wanted to say, no, I never will be.

"Tommy, put Dream's crossbow in between Schlatt's eyes."

Schlatt flinched back as something sharp touched the bridge of his nose. He tried to pull away, but it followed him.

His breaths became faster and faster and his heart beat quicker and quicker.

He was scared.

He was so so scared.

He didn't want everything to be black again.

He'd be alone.

He looked up.

And he saw misty, bright blue eyes filled with hatred.

And fear.

Please don't kill me.

"DO IT!"

"KILL HIM!"

"KILL HIM NOW!"

Tears formed in Schlatt's eyes, and his voice came out whispery.

"Don't kill me, don't kill me, I'm scared of death."

Another shadow fell on his face.

"You could've had it, Schlatt."

"Y-You left me." Schlatt sputtered out. He knew that voice. "You and fucking everyone left me. When I needed it the most. YOU LEFT ME!"

"You made a mistake. You made the biggest fucking mistake in your life. I tried to help you, I TRIED EVERYTHING!"

"YOU TOLD ME WE WERE ALL FUCKING DAMAGED AND YOU DIDN'T CARE!"

"YOU'RE MORE THAN DAMAGED, SCHLATT!" Quackity's face shined with tears in the bright light. "YOU'RE COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY FUCKED UP BEYONG REPAIR! YOU'RE A FUCKED UP PERSON! YOU COULD NEVER BE GOOD! DON'T YOU SEE THAT?"

"SHUT UP!"

"I don't even know why I tried to find good in you. You're just a shitty person without a single ounce of good."

"SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP IT'S YOUR FAULT!"

"THIS IS ALL ON YOU, SCHLATT!"

"SHUT UP!"

"AND EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS FROM HERE ON OUT IS ON YOU!"

Schlatt was silent as Quackity's voice rang in his ears.

Quackity stepped back, resting his case.

Schlatt forced out one last retort.

"If I die, this country goes down with me."

"No, it doesn't." Tommy's voice came out quietly.

"Oh, you've got a lot to learn, Tommyinnit!" Jschlatt laughed until he hacked.

Quackity sighed, turning away. "Just kill him."

The voices joined in on the chant.

"KILL HIM KILL HIM KILL HIM KILL HIM!"

Tommy's bow was back on his temple, shaking.

"Just kill him, Tommy."

"Kill him, Toms."

"Do it."

"Get it over with."

"Any last words, Schlatt?"

But Schlatt didn't feel the pain, and nothing went black.

He saw the misty blue eyes in front of him.

Pity.

Thump

Pity.

Tommy, the golden boy, the main character.

Always with pity.

The hero would slay the villain.

All over again.

I never wanted to be the villain, though, Schlatt thought.

Thump

I didn't want to be.

If the hero was supposed to be kind and compassionate,

Certainly he would spare him.

And he would.

He could see it in the boy's eyes.

It would never be his time to die.

Thump

But it is yours, J.

Schlatt's heart hurt.

He put his hand over his chest.

Thump

The world spun more, and he tried to grab onto the boy to keep him steady, but he couldn't find him anywhere.

"Any last words, Schlatt?"

That was Wilbur, he knew it.

His death would be another great moment in Wilbur's production, his prodigy blowing his brains out.

Everything like Wilbur planned.

All part of a show.

Everything felt lighter and woozy and laced.

Jschlatt's heart thumped in his chest like Tubbo's.

Thump

What perfect irony.

"I-I don't feel good.."

Thump

"Schlatt?"

"Wait, wait wait-"

A whirlwind sweeped up in his lungs, pounding away at his heart. He could feel it spiraling, spiraling inside of him.

Memories flashed.

Tubbo's brown eyes.

Thump

And his soft hair.

And guilt.

Thump

Quackity's hand on his shoulder.

The feel of the mic.

Thump

Piano symphonies.

The wood of his desk.

Thump

The smell of pine.

Colors of everything.

Thump

And now he could see Quackity clearly in the light.

Is he your favorite memory?

Thump

Instead of a scowl, there was a look of fear.

And concern.

Thump

And Schlatt liked to think, if he looked hard enough, love.

A friend.

Thump

Good.

Thump

Something he thought he could never have before.

Thump

He met his eye, sighing as he smirked.

Thump

"Flatty Patty~" He rasped out, smiling.

Thump

Come back now, J.

Thump.

And Schlatt's heart burst into a million colors.

Come back home.

The mad drunk tyrant fell to forward, on his side.

Dead.

Everyone rushed forward in shock.

But Quackity stayed where he was.

Trying to repair the last slash at his heart that Schlatt had done.

The last one.

He walked out of the caravan as Karl pressed his ear to Schlatt's chest.

He walked straight out.

And there was silence.

And then celebration over the dead body.

"We won," Tommy said incredulously. "We won."

"We did, didn't we?" Fundy said in a stupor, holding his arm.

But it didn't feel like a win.

They all stared at the motionless body until it disappeared into smoke, leaving nothing but the bottles behind.

It left a bitter taste in Tommy's mouth, and he didn't like it.

"We have L'Manburg back now."

Tommy smiled.

"We have L'manburg back now!"

And Wilbur led him out of the caravan.

And even though it wasn't a satisfying win, it was still a win nonetheless.

He breathed in the grass.

Home.

Finally.

Tommy grinned from ear to ear and Tubbo jogged up beside him.

Home.

"Tommy, I know you thought you'd never hear me say this but.." Wilbur looked at him with pride, the sides of his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Tommyinnit, give us a speech on the podium."

Wilbur patted him on the shoulder. "Or should I say.. President-Elect Tommyinnit?"

Tommy looked at him in a stupor, feeling a little lightheaded.

"Really?"

"Yes, who else would it be?" Wilbur nudged him towards the podium.

Tommy looked up at the crowd gathering there.

"Go on, then."

It felt like he was in a daze as he climbed up the steps. Everything was happening so quickly.

He grabbed the microphone, before setting it aside. He could use his voice, his raw voice.

He didn't need power.

"Hello, everyone!"

He looked out at everyone seated in their armor, some of them smiling, some of them nodding begrudgingly.

He paused, before letting out a laugh of relief.

"We won!"

Cheers erupted from the stands.

And he met Tubbo's eyes, shining and proud of him.

"And I thought I would never say this but..." Tommy chuckled, floating on clouds. "After everything, after everything we've been through,"

He looked down at Tubbo and he smiled.

"It really was meant to be!"

"WHOOOOO!" Tubbo cupped his hands and yelled from his seat.

"IT WAS MEANT TO BE!"

And everyone clapped along, chanting with him. Smiles were traded.

And Tommy watched them, his cheeks hurting from how much he was smiling.

It was meant to be.

Tommy looked in the crowd for Wilbur. He stood in the back, his arms crossed as he shook his head, smirking. Happiness, something that Tommy hadn't seen in a while, shone through his figure.

"And Wilbur,"

Wilbur looked up at him. Tommy nodded at him, grinning.

They had did it.

They had won.

Together.

With love.

"Thank you."

Tommy took a deep breath as he looked out again.

"But I can't be the president."

Gasps murmered through the crowd. Tommy clenched his fists.

"As much as this is everything, and what I've fought for,"

He steeled his eyes at Dream, who drummed his fingers on his hoodie impatiently.

"I've still got unfinished business."

Tommy looked off over the scattered cobblestone and the green hills. It needed fixing.

But he didn't want to control it.

He didn't want to control his home.

Deep down, he was still a kid.

And he wanted someone else to take care of him.

And not worry so much about taking care of everything else himself.

"And it wouldn't be fair to L'Manburg if I'm distracted. It's L'Manburg, by the way. I'm adding back the L."

Niki whooped, and Tubbo screamed from the back: "WE TAKE L'S SOMETIMES!"

The audience and Tommy laughed with him.

All back to normal.

And Tommy thought that was the best part.

"But I'd like to nominate the person who I think is the most capable, someone who's always stuck by my side, someone who I trust will do the best job at protecting and keeping our home safe."

Tommy looked down at Wilbur's shocked face.

And put things as they were supposed to be.

"President Wilbur Soot, would you please come up to the podium?"

Wilbur seemed to shake himself from his stupor, starting towards the platform as Tommy bounded down the steps, wrapping him in a hug.

Wilbur's eyes widened.

"Thank you, big man." He whispered into his brown jacket.

"Ew, affection," Wilbur teased, a slight sad tone in his voice as he ruffled his hair. "Go along to your seat, Tommy."

Tommy nodded obliviously to the weight in Wilbur's steps as he bounced back to Tubbo's side.

"God, I will never get over how creepy that podium is to me." Tommy whispered to Tubbo as he sat down next to him happily.

"I'm sure we can ask Wilbur to remove it once we're done." Tubbo whispered back, settling back into his chair.

Once we're done.

Tommy looked up at the podium.

And Wilbur took the mic.

"My first order of business is to take down that bastard flag."

Tommy and Tubbo burst into laughter.

"It's a fucking abomination."

Niki giggled, clapping along and cheering.

"The colors should be red, yellow, white, and blue. Like how Niki designed."

Wilbur looked down at her, and she smiled back.

"That's the way things should be."

The way things should be.

Tommy and Tubbo looked at each other and grinned, before saluting Wilbur.

The way it should.

"But I can't be your president."

Tommy's face fell.

"I'm not fit for it."

Wilbur breathed in sharply, looking over his nation.

"But there's only one other person that can be."

Tommy looked over to his right, the beginnings of a smile playing on his face.

Fundy watched as Wilbur looked right at him.

And then looked away.

"Tubbo, please come up to the podium!"

Tubbo looked over at Tommy in shock, holding his arm to steady himself.

"Go ahead, big man." Tommy whispered, and Tubbo stood up as Wilbur came down.

And as Tommy watched his best friend walk up the steps, he couldn't help but let a smile spread across his face.

"WHOOOO!" He shouted with all his might. "GO TUBBBOO!"

Tubbo stepped up to the the podium, looking out with a nervous grin.

"YOU GOT THIS BIG MANNNNN!" Tommy whooped, clearly embarassing Tubbo.

Tommy watched as Wilbur whispered something into Tubbo's ear. Tubbo's face looked lost for a moment before he forced a smile and nodded at Wilbur. He turned back to the crowd.

"H-Honestly, this is a bit traumatic for me." Tubbo chuckled sheepishly.

"I-I wasn't expecting to be up here speaking with friends,"

Tubbo looked proudly at Niki and Quackity and Tommy and Wilbur.

"And enemies," Tubbo looked at Dream and his posse. He still smiled at them, because he had seen evil do good. "Who I don't hate all that much, to be honest."

"And whether or not we were fighting with or against each other, we're together."

Tubbo saw all the faces gathered equally.

"And that's what matters, really."

And Tubbo smiled, a real one.

"And that's what counts."

"Thank you, everyone."

And nobody cheered louder than Tommy from the stands.

"PRESIDENT TUBBOOOOOOOO!"

Tubbo jogged down from the podium, and Tommy shook his shoulders as they met.

"You did so poggers, big man!"

And Tubbo was laughing, laughing, out of breath. "I don't even know what a president does!"

"You'll be a great one Tubbo." Tommy smirked. Niki appeared next to him, tearful.

"I'm so proud of you." She enveloped him in a hug as Tubbo patted her back.

"Thanks, Niki." Tubbo pulled away, adressing the people surrounding them. "We should really take down my execution stuff, shouldn't we? 'Cause it's really, really traumatic." He laughed nervously.

And as posters and signs were ripped down around him, Tommy approached Tubbo, punching his arm playfully.

"Mr. President." Tommy grinned.

"Tommy." Tubbo smiled back.

"Congratulations, man."

"Tommy," Tubbo took a deep breath. "I know you have unfinished business and everything and all that shit but once you're done with that would you be my vice president?" He spit out, words falling quickly and nervously from his mouth.

"Of course, big man." Tommy placed his hand on his shoulder. "You and I against the world."

And they watched as their L'manburg, their L'manburg, started to form again, anew.

You and I against the world.

And if you can stop now, if you want to.

At this happiness and this revelry.

Everything was shining new in their eyes, the curtains about to close on something wonderful.

And everything was perfect.

Until it wasn't.

"I'll be back!" Wilbur called out, even though he knew nobody cared enough to listen over the cheers.

Nobody cared if he had disappeared from the crowd.

"I'll be back."

And Technoblade watched.

"You don't like this, do you?"

Dream appeared behind him. Techno didn't turn around.

"All this, all of your everything, for exactly what you hated."

Techno looked down at the ground. "No. No I don't at all."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

And the voices whispered, whispered, whispered,

What are you going to do about it?

Wilbur touched the grass growing on the top of the hallway. He started towards the light at the end of the tunnel.

He saw the song he had scribbled all over the walls.

There was a special place where men could go and emancipate.

At one time.

Far off in the distance.

Where everyone was happy and oblivious.

And not weighed down.

Wilbur knew it couldn't exist anymore.

No matter how hard he tried.

Then amongst the laughter and leaves, Niki's hand broke through a wall and saw red.

Her smile dropped as people cheered around her.

She looked around, and then back at the TNT.

And she covered it up.

And she walked away.

Because they couldn't ruin the happy ending now, right?

Because something would always corrupt, someone would always want power.

There was.

But no, it is no more.

Wilbur didn't think it could ever exist again.

"So.."

The button loomed in front of him.

"We're here."

He stared at it, not moving.

It seemed to taunt him.

And Techno's voices brewed, brewed, brewed inside of him, chanting as his world collapsed around him. He wanted to scream at all their happy faces because he couldn't be happy, not like this.

He wanted to ruin this picture-perfect paradise.

Make them listen, make them listen, make them listen.

"If I'm gonna press it ever, it's now."

Wilbur breathed in slowly, closing his eyes.

But he still didn't press the button.

"THE THING I BUILT THIS NATION FOR DOESN'T EXIST ANYMORE!"

"LISTEN TO ME!" Techno screamed.

He yelled at himself, echoing off the chamber walls.

"DO YOU THINK IT WAS SCHLATT THAT CAUSED ALL YOUR PROBLEMS?"

"The thing I worked towards doesn't exist anymore."

Wilbur sighed.

"IT WAS THE GOVERNMENT!"

"It's over."

"I DIDN'T WORK THIS HARD TO REPLACE ONE TYRANT WITH ANOTHER!"

He reached for the button.

And the first firework flew out of Techno's crossbow.

"What are you doing?"

Wilbur's eyes widened.

And it exploded, flashing red, white, and blue.

"Phil?"

"I found you."

A man stepped into the room.

"You're not where I expected you to be."

Wilbur turned around, and he saw his father's eyes.

"TUBBO TUBBO!"

Blue as the day he had left, filled with worry and concern as he scanned him.

"WHERE ARE YOU?"

"I heard you won a war."

"2, actually."

"TUBBO!"

Phil wanted to close the gap, but Wilbur remained cold and still.

He raised his hand, gesturing to the walls.

"I don't suppose you've heard the song?"

"What song?"

Wilbur turned around, gazing up at the wall.

"There was a special place that I built, but it doesn't exist anymore."

"What do you mean?" Phil stepped towards him softly. "It's right out there. Waiting for you."

"TOMMY!"

Wilbur whipped around. "PHIL I'M ALWAYS SO CLOSE TO PRESSING THIS BUTTON!"

"Hold on, hold on, hold on, I'm coming to help you, I'm coming-"

Phil stumbled back as his son cradled his head in his hands, unrecognizable.

"I've been here so many times." Phil stared as Wilbur breathed in, close to tears.

"But I can never do it."

"GET AWAY FROM HIM!"

"They're fighting." Wilbur pulled at his hair. "They're fighting again."

Techno felt weightless as he pulled the trigger, watching the sparks chase people until they fell down with a bang.

"And so you want to end it all?"

And Tommy ran helplessly, but he couldn't get past the mob, couldn't get past the mob to get to Tubbo.

"Yes, yes I do."

Techno held his crossbow to Tubbo's head as he curled into a ball on the floor.

"I do."

Tommy felt so helpless as the world screamed and shattered everything, everything. What happened to their happy ending?

"There was a saying once, by a traitor, Phil."

Phil stepped forward, not sure if he should reach his hand out, touch him. "Yeah?"

"A traitor you didn't stick around to hear about, Eret."

"DON'T YOU GUYS SEE WHAT'S HAPPENING HERE?"

"You never wrote."

"I didn't want to."

"DON'T YOU SEE HISTORY REPEATING ITSELF?"

Phil felt the shadow fall on Wilbur's tired face, so much more tired than he had ever seen, so much more grown-up.

Wilbur sighed as he looked at the wall, its scrawls etched in, so easy to erase.

"There was a saying once, by a traitor."

"Do you know who the traitor was, Tommy?" Tommy looked up in a panic as Dream's mask loomed over him, in view, appearing out of the mob.

Wilbur smiled, clear and free, and remembering, so clearly damaged, but that's alright because everyone would be with him soon, everyone would remember him for years to come for breaking them.

"Who?" Tommy rasped out desperately.

They would never forget.

"Wilbur."

"It was never meant to be."

And he pushed the button.

And Wilbur sunk to his knees as his nation imploded beneath his feet.

He smiled as fire lit up his cheeks, the explosions rocking him to the core as he let out his final sob of relief.

And he looked out as his stage closed its final curtain, him the center spotlight.

"Oh my god..."

"NO!"

A searing pain hit Tommy's gut as he stared, his soul imploding beneath him.

"L'MANBURG!"

And then he was on his back again, head slamming against the hard ground. Voices echoed in the ear-shattering sounds.

L'Manburg, L'Manburg, My L'Manburg

His arms were bruised and broken.

All for nothing at all.

And his ears rang.

Quackity remembered flying, flying through the air before everything went black and the water pulled him under, explosions lighting the surface of the water. Cold arms floated, reached to the light.

Before he closed his eyes, he wondered who would pull him out.

And Tubbo's vision faded in and out, in and out.

Where was he?

Back within the walls, back inside the box.

Wherever he was, he wasn't here.

And then suddenly he was.

And he screamed, but it was lost in the frenzy.

Make it stop, make it stop, MAKE IT STOP.

No one could hear him, his head under Techno's quivering boot.

The smallest ant in the world.

No one could hear him crying for help as his home rocked and rocked his body with explosions.

Another child soldier selling his childhood, another byproduct of Wilbur's final bow.

"MY L'MANBURG, PHIL!"

Wilbur spread his arms over his nation, something that Phil would never share would never get to see, would never to get to brag about or be proud of him for, would never get to claim as his, his son's.

"MY UNFINISHED SYMPHONY!"

Wilbur rasped in a shallow breath.

"Forever...." He rested back on his knees.

"Unfinished."

"If I can't have this, no one can, Phil."

Phil stared in horror at his son's skinny frame silhouetted by the flames of his vengeance, of this lost dream.

"NO ONE CAN!"

"Kill me, Phil." Wilbur stood and whipped around. Freeness. He was free. Phil saw pure euphoria in his eyes, where was his son? Where was his beautiful boy, where were the sweet songs? What happened to his beautiful voice? Where was his guitar?

"Kill me."

Dust and fire and embers created the space between them.

"Murder me, Phil, do it."

Wilbur thrust his sword into Phil's hands, holding it to his chest.

People stumbled to a crumbling pathway, looking up at Phil, watching, waiting, tired and bruised and shell-shocked.

Wilbur saw them too, tears running down his cheeks. He pointed his hand at them, half-laughing, half-choking out sobs.

"Look! They all want you to!"

And Phil remembered...

Phil remembered little peas dribbling down his little chin and sweet potatoes, he always liked singing, Wilbur sang everywhere, in the trees, the house, around the streets, in the bathroom, sitting in Phil's rocking chair.

He remembered his first guitar, his first words, his first smile, little curious brown eyes.

He remembered the day he left him.

Guilt.

He remembered rocking him to sleep at night, and singing him that one song that he liked, how did it go again? Something or other about a salmon swimming down a stream, a nation born anew.

He remembered love.

"You're my son."

The words carried heavy, deep notes in his soul. They were brought up with sharp pain and guilt, more guilt than the universe could ever hold on his shoulders, to Phil it was terrifying.

"YOU'RE MY SON!"

"And you're my father."

Wilbur pressed the sword deeper into his hand.

"Do it, Phil."

And though Wilbur wore a smile, Phil saw pleading, begging in his eyes.

"Kill me."

He saw suffering and guilt and anger.

And Phil loved Wilbur.

He loved him too much to see him in pain.

He couldn't stand seeing him in pain.

The handle of the sword was in his shivering hands that were usually steady.

And Wilbur held his gaze, steady and true.

And the sword slid into the monster's chest.

And Philza's son fell to his knees.

Phil stumbled back in shock, covering his mouth.

Wilbur met his eyes weakly.

He smiled.

And blood pooled out of his mouth.

And the reality struck Phil in his heart.

"Always the hero," Wilbur rasped out.

"Always."

And Philza Minecraft turned and fled.

Away, away.

Away from the monster he had created and destroyed.

But he couldn't shake the guilt cloud forming in the pit of his stomach.

And he couldn't get the image of Will's eyes burning into his back, blood pooling out of his mouth.

Waiting, waiting.

Waiting for all the things he didn't say.

And a boy saw his brother fall to the ground from below.

And he couldn't cry out for him because his lungs were too filled with dust and smoke.

Tommy supported Tubbo's broken ribs.

And they leaned together on the broken pathway.

I'm here, I'm here, I'm here-

Their make-believe had been knocked over and trampled.

No more pretending.

The city that would've been theirs.

They stood in its ashes.

And Tubbo gripped his arm, breathing in and out in shock as tears streamed down his face, streaking through the dust on his cheeks.

Tommy saw a blood-red cape through the smoke.

And he saw the soul sand crosses in front of him.

"STOP!" Tommy screamed out, coughing. "STOP TECHNO!"

A giant crater in the floor separated them as Techno stared at him coldly.

Tommy lifted his crossbow with his sore arms weakly. "DON'T TAKE ANOTHER STEP!"

"Do you think you're a hero, Tommy?"

Techno looked down his quivering crossbow pointed at his heart.

"Is that was this is?"

"I-I just-" Tommy coughed, trying not to let his voice crack under the suffocating weight of it all. "I just wanted L'Manburg back."

"You just instilled a hostile government takeover and instilled yourself as president."

Tommy looked around helplessly as people stood and watched, covered in dust and all looking at him, arms barely able to lift up.

All front row seats to his breakdown.

"That's a tyrant, Tommy."

Tommy wanted to cry, what was so wrong about wanting his home, everything back to normal? What was wrong with that? He didn't want to be anything that people would hate.

He wanted to cry, but he wouldn't.

He wouldn't let them win.

He stayed silent, because if he spoke another word tears would flood out.

"The thing about this world, Tommy."

Techno looked at him straight in the eye, at his shivering and broken body, and at Tubbo with his tears on his cheeks, standing in the ashes of the nation they had fought for.

"Is that good things don't happen to heroes."

Tubbo shifted closer into Tommy's shoulder, letting him know he was not alone.

They both had fought and lost.

Tommy stood there, still speechless.

"Have you ever heard the story of Theseus, Tommy?"

Techno looked down at his reflection in his sword.

His right cheek was stained with blood.

He flipped it in his hand, looking away.

"His city was in danger."

Techno looked around as the dust clouds blocked out the sun, embers floating past.

"He slayed the Minotaur and saved his city."

Techno looked back at Tommy, wiping the blood from his nose.

"You know what they did to him, Tommy?"

"What did they do?" Tommy whispered quietly, but everyone could hear. His throat hurt.

"They exiled him."

Tommy's eyes widened.

"He died alone and despised by his people."

"But he saved everyone!" Tubbo piped up from Tommy's side, furrowing his brow. "That's not fair!"

"But if you want to be a hero, Tommy, then go right ahead."

Techno walked behind the two crosses, and Tommy realized too late, the skulls of the dead in his hand.

"If you want to be a hero Tommy,"

"NO!"

"THEN DIE LIKE ONE!"

The people who were once idle screamed and ran as a Wither, a monster Tommy had never seen before, reared its head and spit out a black fireball, straight at Tommy's face.

Tommy wrapped himself around Tubbo and dove into a crater.

Tommy's eyes snapped open.

There was a gash in his arm, but he was alive.

Something brewed in the pit of his stomach.

It was anger, red, hot anger.

And he wouldn't sit here and let things die around him.

Everything screamed in pain, pain, pain. His breathing quickened.

Suck it up.

Tommy felt tears come to his eyes.

Suck. it. up.

He gulped, pulling Tubbo to his feet.

"This is not over."

Tubbo realized the change in Tommy's voice and let him lead him.

"Stick close, Tubbo." Tommy readjusted the straps on his armor. "This is gonna be messy."

He would not be the helpless little kid like how he felt when he was in front of Techno.

"TOMMY!"

Tommy slung an arm over Tubbo's shoulder as he hobbled towards Quackity.

"BIG Q GIVE EVERYTHING YOU'VE GOT TO IT!"

Niki stumbled towards them, their allies grouping together. Tears and mascara streamed down her face. "It's all destroyed... Tommy, Tommy did you see Will-"

"It's not all destroyed, Niki." Tommy felt himself slowly floating away as more and more fireworks were fired close to his ears, but he tried to hold on. "Wilbur's fine, Wilbur's fine."

War raged around him, angry withers rearing their ugly heads, spitting out black magic.

People, just humans, fought back with swords as fireworks burned their skin.

"KEEP ON FIGHTING EVERYONE!" He screamed as hard as his voice could let him. "FIRE!"

Fear and panic spiked his ribs as more and more explosions went off, more and more. His stomach felt like it was being ripped apart by the claws.

Suck it up.

"KEEP ON FIGHTING!"

And somewhere, somewhere Techno collapsed on a soft piece of grass, finally finding a soft place to land.

He had finally done it.

And he hated himself.

Suddenly, hands lifted him up.

"On your feet, soldier. Let's get you out here, Tech."

Techno squinted his eyes through the smog.

"P-Phil?"

"Yes, mate, it's me. I'm right here." Phil led them to the edge, to a body of water. Techno could see his wobbly reflection on the surface, looking like he was about to collapse.

His whole body was covered in blood.

"Phil.." Techno's voice broke as he sat down numbly, hugging his human body, smudged and dirty.

"Phil I hurt them. I hurt them all."

"I know, Tech."

Phil rowed away as the fire and smoke loomed behind them.

"I know."

George looked up at the plumes of smoke, somewhere far off safe in the distance.

"What happened?" He asked Dream, standing tall, his hands in his hoodie pocket, his cracked mask on his face.

"Victory." Dream replied, taking his hand as he turned him away.

It was always for George.

And it would always be for him.

"We won."

This might seem like an end to you, Tommy.

But this is just the beginning.

Tommy coughed and hacked, his chest hurting.

Cheers went up around him, muted as his head was hurting.

"THAT WAS THE LAST ONE!" Quackity yelled out shakily, his voice gone, before he collapsed.

Tommy tried to smile, lightheaded.

And smoke and fury seemed to start to dissipate.

But still, where was Wilbur?

He had lost him in the dust and the explosion and he lost L'Manburg.

He couldn't lose his brother too.

Where was Wilbur?

Where was home?

"Tommy, Tommy where are you going-" Tubbo coughed as Fundy held him by the arm. Karl held an unconscious Quackity over his shoulder. Schlatt was dead. He had no time for sides.

Death had no sides.

"I can't just leave him!" Tommy's helmet had been knocked off, his messy hair popping out.

Tubbo knew who he was talking about.

He nodded at him, though he didn't know why Tommy wanted to find him, to remember.

"I'll be back."

The explosions were done now, jagged stone beneath his feet and dusty ground, craters and fire and death littering the earth, it was hard to imagine that any memories were held here at all.

Now it was smoke and just and gone, gone, gone, gone, no time for mourning, and no time to say goodbye.

The crushing weight of it climbed up through Tommy's throat, and he croaked out dry sobs as he ran, unable to hold it in anymore.

Gone, gone, gone, gone.

His L'Manburg.

Wilbur's L'Manburg.

Their L'Manburg.

Our L'Manburg.

"WILBUR!" Tommy coughed, trying to expel the gray dust that floated everywhere from his lungs. "WILBA!"

He couldn't see anything. Everything was so gritty on his skin, and that was the worst part.

Tommy wished it was the worst part.

"Hello, Tommy."

A figure stepped out of the abyss with sunken eyes and dirty hair, and Tommy knew he would forever have that image in his mind, in his nightmares, for the rest of his life. Blood on his mouth, blood on his shirt, blood in his eyes.

The worst part was that all he could do about it was stand there, still.

Wilbur spread out his arms shakily.

"My unfinished symphony."

Wilbur coughed out again, and Tommy had never seen him look so small.

"Is everything supposed to go dark?"

And Tommy watched as Wilbur pulled the sword out, letting the blood flow into the earth.

"WILBUR!"

Tommy was 10 paces away from him.

"Count to 10."

"It'll be easy, I promise you, see?"

"1."

Wilbur's conflicted face as he raised his hand, counting, his blue hat on his head.

"2."

Wilbur grinning up at him, trying to keep him calm as he put alcohol on his scraped knee.

"3."

Then Wilbur again, counting as he yanked the arrow out of his arm.

"4."

Wilbur, counting, they were playing hide and seek.

"5."

5 times Wilbur called his name when he was worried when he came back with Techno.

"6."

6 seconds that Tommy's hand stayed on Wilbur's shoulder, and he said "I understand."

"7."

7 times Wilbur promised that he would build Tommy a treehouse.

One day.

"8."

8 beats of silence in the room as Tommy tried to keep Wilbur from the button.

"9."

9 seconds that Wilbur would hug him, before he pulled away and said "ew, affection."

And then they would hug again.

"10."

Ten paces, fire.

Green eyes, and now brown eyes.

There are no villains, and there are no saints.

Tommy saw someone as a villain, but he also saw a human.

But if there were no villains, why did the same person make him hurt?

Why did a human hurt other humans so much?

How could they do that if they knew the other would bleed?

Tommy didn't know if the figure in front of him was a sinner or a saint, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was human.

He knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was kind, and loving, and smart, and special.

He knew without a shadow of a doubt that when he was cut, he bled. When he was hurt, he cried.

And an ocean flooded out as Wilbur collapsed against Tommy's chest.

And a happy, content sigh left his lips.

And Tommy was truly faced with the questions, and put in the shoes of every person and he felt and he cried.

He didn't want to ask himself if he was ready to say goodbye, because how could he?

It seemed so easy when you were dying yourself, but why was it so hard when someone else did?

"Wilbur-" Tommy sobbed in, out, his breath was thick with tears. "Wilbur, Wilby-"

"Why are you crying?" Tommy tried to stop, but he couldn't stop even when Wilbur put his fingers through his hair. "Don't cry for me, I'm not worth crying about."

What Tommy would regret the most later was that he couldn't stop sobbing to tell Wilbur that he did, he was worth it, he was worth everything.

"When did you get so big, Tommy?"

Wilbur rested a hand on Tommy's cheek, and Tommy leaned into the warmth, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Look at you, all grown-up." Wilbur gazed at him with awe and pride, rubbing his thumb to take away the tears. "You're so tall now. All old and mature and shit."

"W-Wilbur, I don't want to-" A dam broke within Tommy as he collapsed against Wilbur's chest as he hiccuped, too tired now. "I-I don't want to-"

"It's ok, shhhhhhhh, it's ok." Wilbur patted his back softly, hugging him tight. "You'll always be my little Tommy. My right hand man."

Tommy sobbed more, finally crying, crying, crying. If he closed his eyes and let the tears stream down, he could feel safe and warm and protected again. He could feel at home, which is all he wanted really.

The last time he had said that he had gotten a fireball to the face.

"W-Wilby, don't leave, don't go-" Tommy clutched Wilbur's shirt tight in his hands, like it could keep him there, keep him forever.

"My unfinished symphony." Wilbur looked down at Tommy's tear stained face, his eyes shut tightly. "My great unfinished symphony." He placed his hand on Tommy's.

"Forever unfinished."

Tommy squeezed it back gently, trying to wipe the tears from his eyes.

"Do ya think.." Wilbur coughed, and blood spurted out of his mouth. Tommy's vision blurred even more. "Do ya think that I'll see Niki again, even though I'm going to hell?"

And Tommy's mind flashed back to memories buried, and he patted Wilbur's hand gently, trying to keep his voice from breaking. "You'll find an angel there, Will. She's all sparkly and glowy and shit. And then she'll let you come back, promise."

"But Tommy," Wilbur's head lolled to the side. "I want to go."

"No-no, you're not going Wilbur-"

"Oh, your eyes are so blue Tommy!" A smile split across Wilbur's face. "Were they always that blue?"

Oh, Tommy, we've fallen so far, haven't we?

"Wilbur-" Tommy sniffled, still holding onto Wilbur's hand. "Please don't go."

"But I'm tired, Tommy." Wilbur's skin was turning cold. "I want to sleep."

"But you can't go to sleep!" Tommy tugged on Wilbur's jacket pleadingly. "You still have to build me my treehouse, remember?" He tugged on it desperately. "Remember?"

"I'll build it eventually, Tommy." Wilbur rested his head back against the rocky ash. "One day."

"C-can you at least sing a song?" Tommy's stomach dropped when he realized that Wilbur didn't have his favorite thing, his guitar. He was annoyed with himself because he didn't bring it. "I love your songs, Will. You could be a rockstar."

"Eh, maybe not a rockstar." But a twitch of a smile crept onto Wilbur's face.

"But I would love to sing you a song, Tommy."

Tommy leaned into Wilbur's chest, and he closed his eyes. Wilbur heard him sigh happily. Wilbur rested his head back on the ground, feeling the life seep out of him, gray filling in the missing places. He mussed up Tommy's blond locks one last time.

One last time.

"It all started on a day like any other."

Tommy inhaled in, and for the first time in months, he could smell the breeze. It was cool on his cheeks.

"All the salmon had swum to the sea."

The dust was settling, and the clear blue sky was shining through.

"When my lover she darted away down the stream."

Tommy let the gentle lull of Wilbur's chest rock him to sleep as Wilbur rested a hand on his back, the sun slipping down the sky.

And Wilbur stared up at the beautiful clear blue sky turning vibrant hues of orange. It wasn't as grey any longer.

And even though he was dying, Wilbur had never felt more alive.

"With the heart,"

He exhaled, smiling. It left him like the flow of a river.

"That she'd taken,"

And Wilbur Soot let out his last breath.

"From me."

And the wind whisked away the sinner and the saint.

Where do people go when they die?

"Wilbur?"

His communicator crackled and fizzled out.

Do they go somewhere else?

"Wilbur? Where'd you go?"

Or are they just...

"You didn't finish the song."

Gone.

A singular blue cornflower on a headstone.

Niki didn't know how to feel.

She knew her stomach dropped when he didn't wake up when she did, under the medic tent.

And she cried empty tears, not sure if they were in relief or in pain.

Little quiet whispers.

Death doesn't discriminate.

Death was deserved for some people.

Niki wasn't sure.

There was so much things left to say.

So many things she wanted to say.

A thousand words and a thousand promises had floated away.

She wished, Wilbur, Wilbur, Wilbur.

If only we had time.

If only we had time, if only.

Sing me songs under a willow tree.

Maybe in another universe.

We could be dancing barefoot in the grass again, we could be slow dancing.

Maybe, maybe.

In another universe.

You were not the monster that I knew.

Why did I let my soul be taken so easily?

Wilbur, Wilbur my best friend.

And with shaky breaths Niki sang for the dead soul of her best friend.

"Don't you remember?"

She smiled once, for him.

"I was always your clown."

Niki left a cornflower on the headstone, sweet and summery, like the girl that Wilbur had called his best friend, the very best.

"Why try to change me?"

Did he truly want it?

"Why would you ever want to change me?"

Or was it too selfish?

"Now."

Silence rang through the air because no one was there to sing back this time.

"I guess we were destined to be tragic, Will."

And then she walked away.

She didn't even get to say goodbye.

Because that's how death really is.

No closure.

Just an open, gaping gap in your heart.

If you feel their story is incomplete, than you'd be right.

Because it is.

And was.

And always will be.

I really do want to know if they go to a better place than this.

Quackity's vision blurred in and out as he opened his eyes.

"Q! You're awake!" Karl tackled him in a hug and Quackity felt something pop.

"Ouch, watch the ribs Karlos!" Quackity laughed through the pain though, sinking into the hug. He smiled.

No more sides for them, he hoped.

Please.

No more sides.

"Hey."

A voice across the room, a slight smirk on an otherwise tired face. He pushed his white bandana back into his jet black hair as he walked forward.

"Quackity, right?"

He reached out his hand, and Quackity stared at it.

"This is my house. I don't think we've ever really properly met. You had some pretty bad injuries. You alright now?"

Quackity realized that the hand was out so he could shake it. He took it, gripping it firmly.

"Yeah." Sparks danced between their fingers. And Quackity didn't know him that well, but he knew immediately that they would be friends. He smiled, the first true one in a while. "I think I'm alright now."

"Sapnap, right?"

I think the uncertainty of it all is what really makes people scared.

Tubbo looked down at the crater, his home as the swift winds of change blew through his hair.

He had to rebuild it.

If not for him, but for everyone else.

He knew no one else would want to do it as much as he did.

He could rebuild it. He could try.

He could do it.

But he really wished, maybe just maybe.

That he was playing in a flower field somewhere with Tommy.

Wilbur was dead.

Next chapter.

Better to pretend.

And keep going.

Then stay here

And face

Reality.

I really do hope they go to a better place.

Phil supported Techno as he hobbled, across fields, across mountains, far far away from everything, away, away, away.

They were silent.

But Phil knew he would stay with him.

That was trust.

And something Techno hadn't felt in a while.

They rested in the cold, soft snow.

And they started to build a home.

Or maybe

Tubbo bandaged his arms, one, two, three. He wondered if the scars would stay there forever, or till next month. He wondered if everytime he looked down, he would remember.

The universe decides

A flash, bang, and colorful red, white, and blue.

And everyday he would see little marks of it, little marks of everything.

But he would never cry.

Strong, strong, a strong boy.

A president now.

He wondered what would have happened if the universe had let him die that day.

He wondered if things would be different.

That their time's not up yet

He did not grieve for Wilbur.

He did not grieve for the man's face that he saw when he was hit by things that should've killed him.

He did not grieve because he did not know how, was not used to.

Tubbo would not cry today.

Tubbo did not feel anything.

He picked the last of the dying flowers.

And he watched them float away.

And maybe you'll be upset

Quackity knew that he would never feel truly happy.

If he knew Technoblade was still out there, a threat to their power.

He could not rest easy.

He could not drink Monster Energy with Karl.

He couldn't let it go.

Because if he had learned anything, anything.

Was that some people weren't good at all.

Not even a little bit.

That someone's times not up for them

He knew, even when he sat in silence.

With no beer bottles clattering, no swearing or yelling.

That he could still not be happy.

And he remembered what the dead man had said to him.

And he swore he would kill the last trace of the bad things he remembered.

He would kill the person that caused others so much pain.

And Quackity had that itch, that fear in his brain.

That he wasn't truly doing it for the right reasons, to save people.

He was doing it because he needed to get rid of the anger in his heart.

Grieving is a wonderful,

Quackity didn't know if he missed Schlatt or he hated him.

He smiled and waved and laughed as the funeral happened, lightening up the mood as always.

Quackity wanted to be brave.

But he wasn't.

But he'll fight.

Fight, fight, fight until people thought he was.

Horrible thing

Tubbo knew he didn't miss Schlatt.

He could keep thinking of what he could've been.

Or he could move on.

And not look back.

And that's what he did.

It cracks your heart open

Phil looked up at the sky that he and his son never could sit under again, he could never sing songs to again, and hit, hit so hard about the never againess of it all.

Never again.

Never again would Phil's heart beat the same prideful way at Wilbur's concerts.

And guilt, palpable guilt, overwhelming guilt.

Why couldn't he have been there?

And anger, so much anger like a red wave.

"Why, why Will?" The man's whispered to the skies.

But he would not get the answer.

And he would sit at the tree and cry.

He wished he could've sat here and looked.

He wished he would've seen everything Wilbur had created.

Wishes left like leaves to the cold wind.

And Phil could never love someone as much as he had loved his precious, little boy.

Even when he looked at Tommy's damaged, tired face with blue bruises slowly starting to form.

He knew he could not love him as much.

And he cried and cried as his old, steady heart cracked open.

Or it shows how cracked your heart was in the first place

Tommy did not cry after Wilbur died.

Tommy stood up.

Even though the disappearance was hanging in the air.

He clung to the only remnant of the past, Tubbo, maybe they could play make-believe together, make-believe that they were still before the past, before everything.

But eventually Tubbo had to leave.

It was like sometimes Tommy could feel like

Wilbur, his smiles and movements and everything.

Was still there.

Somewhere.

Tommy tried to not think.

About the ears ringing, and the hand across his face.

His brother was a good man.

He repeated it to himself.

A good man that did a bad thing.

Wilbur could not be a villain.

Tommy could not be a villain.

Tommy tried his best to forgive and forget.

Things fall.

And Tommy hiked up the side of the mountain.

And that's alright.

His shoes dug into the dying grass.

You know, sometimes you've gotta fall to know how to get back up again.

He looked up at the sunrise, the one that Wilbur never got to see.

And you've gotta take those pieces and glue them back together.

Fundy found the mug in the ravine, the shattered pieces.

And sure, it's gonna be crooked and lopsided and ugly

And he slowly patched them back together again, not quite symmetrical.

And Fundy knew, he knew.

That he was glad that Wilbur was gone.

But yet again,

He wasn't.

Fundy was angry at Wilbur.

Angry, angry, angry.

And he swore.

He would not grieve for this man.

That pretended to be.

And who people pretended to be.

A hero.

But Fundy knew that he was a villain.

And no amount of glue could mend that.

And there's gonna be some pieces missing.

Niki found the mug on the shelf of her bakery, patched together.

She put it in a cabinet, shutting it away in darkness.

But you know what?

They had a funeral for Schlatt.

Nobody cried for him.

They raised glasses.

And they toasted to the man who nobody would miss.

And the unsaid agreement was that nobody would talk about him again.

They all took off their communicators, dusted and broken from the war, and threw them away.

Too many memories of before and after in them.

Because this shadow of a person was too painful to think about, to even speak out loud.

Imagine causing so much pain that people don't want to remember you.

And they looked numbly and some cried.

And they thought, we've fallen so far, haven't we?

We've all fallen so far. 

Life's crooked and lopsided and ugly too.

Eret looked out lonely across the Dream SMP. Later, he would talk to Niki, maybe Fundy, maybe Tommy or Tubbo. He would talk to the people he hurt. But for now, he had this moment of silence.

And I think,

Tommy reached the top of the hill. He looked down at the last remaining tree. The tree he had covered in obsidian. He had removed it, and now the trees branches lifted towards the light, the leaves slowly falling to the ground around it.

Maybe, just maybe.

Tommy smirked.

That's alright.

He took out his remaining disk and he sat down on the bench.

Because through all the bullshit that life throws at us, it still manages to be beautiful.

And he slid the disk into the jukebox, and pressed play.

He knew he did not have all the time in the world now.

He did not have enough time with Wilbur, with everything that they needed to do.

Not enough time for the treehouse.

Not enough time for everything they could've done.

He did not have all the time in the world.

Nobody does.

He wondered if forgiving Wilbur was really the right thing to do.

Things had happened, and Tommy tried to forget them.

Red wasn't his favorite color anymore.

He fell, and he got back up again. 

The sun fell on his cheeks, glowing, alone. The air was cold.

Fall.

And next came the unforgiving winter.

So let the sun rise.