In which we fail to pick up the pieces.

      Or, trauma and the consequences of pulling the trigger.

"Hey."

"Hi."

Tubbo was quiet as Tommy supported him with one arm, Niki staring at their tired eyes. 2 boys, holding on to each other in the dark, standing over a jukebox that they had laughed and smiled and fell asleep dreamily to.

Now the trio leaned on it, quiet, no music playing as the night simmered over their drained bodies. Husk, no color, scars littering all their arms. No one had escaped from the scars.

Greetings, and then silence.

Silence was hard but it was also easier. It was easier because no one wanted to talk about the person that was missing, the people that were missing.

3 young figures leaning on a jukebox in the dead of night.

Was it just them now?

A nation to 3 was a sharp contrast.

But still, the boy with the blue eyes, that were maybe just a little less blue but nobody could tell in the darkness. Maybe it was just the moonlight, like an illusion. But still, the boy pulled out a disk, memories that persisted from summer to winter and on and on. Blood that would never fade. He pushed it in.

Music shone out in the darkness. It was brighter than the moon. Niki's blonde hair hung over her face, red scars on her arms numb, the pain of the hole inside much greater than anything.

Tubbo's arms wrapped in white and faded yellow holding him in like a cage, but still it made him feel clean as he leaned on Tommy, broken.

"We can't go down now."

Tommy's voice was determined, so much older, but yet you could tell it was young because it was still holding on, still believing.

You could tell he was young because he was still believing.

Believing that all his sacrifices meant something, that things meant something, he believed in small things.

But he was getting older. And you couldn't deny that.

You can't play make-believe on this.

"We've done so much. We can't lose now."

Tommy's arms tightened around Tubbo's shoulders.

The sun peaked out under the trees as the sky turned a simmering blue. A beginning.

"Yeah."

No one looked at each other's scarred faces exposed in the early light. They all stared at the rising sun.

"We'll be ok." The light exposed the long red scar down the side of Niki's face, a red flash against her usually fair skin. "As long as we stick together."

Darkness makes things seem a whole lot prettier.

"We have to stick together."

Tommy looked at his fellow hollow souls. They were exposed now that they were in the light. Broken.

They looked at him eagerly, empty eyes staring into his soul, hopeful, wanting, desperate eyes.

He couldn't let them down.

He looked at the orange ball of the sun as it climbed determinedly up into the sky.

They had lost.

The truth shone in the light.

Tubbo's scarred and broken body, Wilbur's cracked mind, shattered trusts, and broken bonds.

Tommy remembered loving the day time.

He remembered the sunrise.

"Fuck."

Tommy's voice was shaky as he slipped for a moment.

Niki's hand was clod as she placed it on his. "We're going to be alright."

And Tommy turned away as he held back tears, trying not to let them see in the daylight.

I've gotta get older.

"We're going to be alright."

Tommy's hand tightened in Tubbo's.

I need to get older.

---

"SCHLATT!" Quackity burst through the door, thinking that he had finally made up his mind. He had felt numb from shock, but now he was done. He was done. Tubbo's brown eyes were gone, and he was gone too.

"I'm DONE!" Quackity's hands still shook in his suit. "OK? I'M NOT WORKING FOR YOU ANYMORE! YOU KILLED A BOY!"

Schlatt was sat down, his legs crossed on the dirty carpet, brown stains blending into the dark green carpet. "DID YOU HEAR ME!? I'M DONE!"

"Ya want a drink?"

Schlatt looked up at him barely, grinning as he weakly lifted the bottle clenched in his hand.

"You're fucking crazy." Quackity felt like he had said it too many times, shaking his head. "You're crazy."

"I fucking hate you too." Schlatt tilted his head back as he took another sip from the tinted bottle. "We should've died during that shitshow." He belched. "Would've made it a lot easier."

Schlatt was still in his suit, the same blood and beer splattered suit that he had wore at the festival. Quackity had at least changed, not wanting to remember.

The worst part was when the dust settled.

All of them had sat, backs against the hard White House wall, trying to catch their breaths. Some people had it worse, burn marks stretched across Ponk's chest, Purpled wrapping his arm silently. Jack's head was between his legs, shaky breaths the only thing escaping.

Someone, someone was crying. It was Karl. Crying into the thick silence, blood wetting his multicolored hoodie.

Shock. That was the one word to describe it.

He remembered holding H's head as Eret bandaged it, trying not to let his panic show through.

He looked down and rich, dark red was all over his suit.

And Quackity would never like fireworks again.

"Were you scared, Quackity?"

A thick, morbid scar ran down the side of Schlatt's neck.

"Sit down here. Have a drink!" Schlatt's words were slurred. "Then you won't be scared."

"Schlatt, your neck-" Quackity reached down, a flash of concern crossing his face.

"Get off of me, fucking footstool-" Schlatt's hand slapped his hand away roughly. "I tell you when to do things- I OWN YOU!" He cackled as if the idea was hilarious to him, the idea of owning something.

"Oh my god, how long did you have this-" Quackity's knee crushed a bottle beneath him as he tried to press a dirtied towel to Schlatt's neck.

"I FUCKING OWN YOU!" Schlatt shook with laughter as Quackity tried to hold him still. "YOU'RE COMING DOWN WITH ME! I OWN YOU!"

Schlatt's head lolled back against Quackity's shoulder as he slipped out again. "I wasn't fucking scared."

And all Quackity felt was pity, Schlatt's nauseating breath drifting up to his nose.

"I wasn't scared."

---

Tubbo's pickaxe echoed behind Tommy.

His pickaxe hung loosely in his hand. The diamond glinted in the torchlight.

He meant to sit down for a few seconds, to do something that he now had forgotten. What did he want? Was it coal for torches? Food? Rest?

He didn't remember.

He stared into space, something dark sitting in his stomach.

He didn't know what it was.

But it settled on him like a blanket.

Suddenly, Wilbur's absence was so apparent.

He remembered Wilbur holding him in a ravine. He had cried.

He couldn't cry now.

Wilbur wasn't here.

Crash.

Fear and panic spiked through his bones as something loud clattered to the ground, echoing through the cave, as Tommy scrambled away, away, darkness and fear taking root in his throat.

He heard a scream, blaring and siren-like in his ears.

"TUBBO!"

Tommy forced himself to stand up, fighting the panic dragging him down.

"TUBBO!"

Tubbo's bandaged arms covered his face as he brought his knees up to his chest, his limbs locking up as he stared forward. His pickaxe finally stopped clattering on the floor next to him, falling silent, but Tubbo's shaky breaths didn't stop.

"Tubbo?" Tommy was afraid to touch him as he held his hands to his face, silent. "You okay man?"

But Tubbo was frozen, stuck somewhere else.

It seemed like a prank because of how still he was, but Tommy knew it wasn't a prank.

"Tubbo?"

"Tommy?" Tubbo's voice was halting, out of breath. "Y-You're there, right?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm here." Tommy felt like it was safe to reach out now, and he reached out, his arms wrapping around Tubbo's tight shoulders. His brown hair was scratchy against Tommy's chin. "Where else would I be, dickhead?"

Tubbo sniffed, taking a deep breath in. "I-I don't know."

"I-I don't think I like fireworks, Tommy." The words were muffled against Tommy's arm.

"Yeah, yeah. Fuck fireworks. We don't like fireworks here." Tubbo's shoulders shook with a few strained chuckles. Tommy smiled. "Fucking things going off in the sky. Who even thought of that stupid idea?"

"F-fucking stupid i-idea." Tubbo leaned his head against Tommy's chest.

"Geez man, why are we hugging so much?" Tommy's joking smile shone on his face. "You're so fucking clingy."

But Tommy's arms didn't go away, and they both silently accepted it.

They both didn't want to be alone again.

"I can't believe I got scared by a fucking pickaxe." 

Tommy grinned mischievously. 

"You're never going to let that go, are you?" 

"Nope." 

---

Red, purple, blue, and orange fabrics floated around like damaged fairies. 

Karl rushed around, fixing the place in a hurry, his tears replaced with pure determination. He only had pure determination when it came to Party Island. 

Bad sat on the weakly pulsing dance floor, arm tied tight with a festival flag. Ant handed him tissue quietly as he sniffled, Sam pacing back and forth restlessly. 

"S-Sorry," Bad sniffled out as he took another tissue, blowing his nose noisily. "I-I don't know why I'm so emotional. I-It just happened all at once, y-you know?" 

Ant patted his back reassuringly as he tried to gulp down more tears. 

"I can't stand this anymore!" Sam wrung his green mask in his hand angrily. "This is horrible! Schlatt- Schlatt is-" 

"What do you mean?" Karl straightened the colorful rug, standing back to admire his work. "It's not Schlatt's fault, it's that pigs. Besides, we're happy here!" 

"He ordered him TO KILL A KID, KARL!" Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what to do, but we need to get out of here." 

"And the other sides haven't been saints either." Ant flinched as he remembered Tommy's sword against his neck as he was led blindly down a hallway that seemed to last forever. "And we know where Dream lies after the- uhmmmm.. incident." 

Ant looked over at Bad, whose eyes turned milky and distant again as he wiped his nose messily. 

"A-Any news on S-Skeppy?" Bad's voice was whispering, looking down. He knew what the answer was. 

"Still asleep." Sam looked at Bad with pity. "But he's stable at least." 

Ant watched as Bad spaced out again, looking for something off in the distance. 

Ant knew that Bad looked for kindness in everything, even the people that hurt him. 

He could forgive the people that hurt him, but could he forgive people that hurt Skeppy? 

Bad continued to stare. 

Ant hoped he was still looking for kindness. 

"What if we just left?" 

Ant and Sam looked in surprise at Bad, whose voice had suddenly switched to cold and detached. 

"What if we created our own place?" 

"Wait-" Karl started to speak, but Sam silenced him. 

"That idea's not half bad." 

---

2, 3 sharp knocks ran through the echoing wooden door. 

Eret placed his hand on his sword, stepping towards the entrance of his castle with caution. 

The door swung open. 

Brazen black eyes met his as the night seeped into his palace. 

"Fundy." 

Eret looked at the backpack cast over the young fox's thrown-back shoulders, his Manburg uniform gone. It was replaced with a mended black jacket from before. It seemed two sizes too small now. 

"You're-" 

"I came to say goodbye." 

Eret smiled slightly, filled with a tad of sadness. "You finally decided then?" 

"Yes." 

"I was wrong, Eret." Fundy looked down in shame. "I was so so so so wrong." 

"It's ok." Eret placed a calming hand on Fundy's shoulder. "We never know when dreams will turn to nightmares." 

"Thank you." A grateful smile shone on Fundy's face as he gripped Eret's hand, shaking it firmly. "I really mean it, man. Thank you."

"Always do what you think is right, Fundy." 

Eret watched as Fundy's orange tail swished behind him before it disappeared down a dark tunnel. 

"I'll see you on the other side of the war." 

--- 

SORRY FOR SHORT CHAPTER I WILL GET NEW ONE OUT SOON I KNOW I SAY THAT EVERY SINGLE TIME BECAUSE I'M ALWAYS LATE BUTTTTTTT- IMA TRY TO GET THESE OUT FOR YOU GUYS!

Love you <3 

Happy New Year!