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"It's the only way," Tommy said, voice cracking. He fought to keep his hands steady for a moment before letting them shake at his sides.
Tubbo looked away, staring down at the nuke with something Tommy could only describe as realization and acceptance. He hoped Tubbo had accepted it. "I don't care about any of them."
"It's the-"
"Tommy," Tubbo interrupted. He was looking at him now, eyes determined. "I don't give a fuck about them."
"They-"
"No. No, I'm not doing this Tom!" Tubbo screamed. "I fucking refuse to sit by and watch you throw yourself away for them. As if they deserve it."
Tubbo pulled something from his inventory, something he must've grabbed at Snowchester before he came out here. Tommy had seen him grab items, but hadn't thought to grab anything himself. "I won't let you."
Tommy barely had a moment to react before he found himself with a face full of glass, the sour smell of fermented spider eyes, and the burn of blaze rods assaulting his sense. "FUCK!"
He stumbled back, slamming himself against the wall with a sudden sense of uncoordination. He slumped to the side faster than he could process, fighting to stand up but his limbs refused to cooperate in time. He slumped over, weakness quickly spreading through his bloodstream as he began losing consciousness. Maybe, if they hadn't just escaped he wouldn't be in a better state, enough to fight it off for a minute.
He wasn't, and he couldn't.
The last thing he saw, as darkness rushed over his sense, was Tubbo's boots walking towards him.
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Tubbo sat quietly, a cup of some old tea he'd found the beginning to cool beside him. Tommy was laid across his couch, head in his lap as he finished cleaning the scrapes from the splash potion he'd used on him. He should've thought to throw it at his feet, but had wanted to ensure that the potion took hold.
He'd left Tommy here to sleep after dragging him from the Nuke site, cleaning up some loose ends and essential tasks before tending to him.
The weakness potion had worn off just enough for Tommy to regain consciousness, though his eyes were only barely opened, and Tubbo could tell he was still more asleep than awake.
He made a muffled noise, some form of protest most likely. Tubbo smiled a bit at the thought, tying off a stitch and setting it aside.
“It’ll be okay, Tom,” Tubbo muttered. He began methodically carding his hand through Tommy’s hair, pulling out twigs and piecing apart spots where hair was clumped together with blood. "Everything's going to be alright when you finally wake up, you won't have to worry about anything. You might hate me for a while, but we both know we could never truly hate each other."
they would have all the time in the world.
“You just couldn’t see,” He said calmly, as he knew he would have to repeat time and time again. “You couldn’t see what you were doing to me. You think you’re this selfish monster, but that's not quite true, is it?”
He idly wiped away a tear leaking down the side of Tommy’s face, clearing away some of the dirt crusted onto his face with it. He’d have to convince Tommy to take a bath later, and he was already dreading that argument. Anyone could take a glance at Tommy and tell that he hadn't been taking care of himself. Who knew how long it’d been since he had.
“I exiled you, and that's on me but I’m not going to leave you alone again. You are the only one I have left.”
Tommy’s plan had been stupid, foolish. It had been driven by guilt and fear- the only motivations Tommy seemed to have since he came back from exile. He cowered in the shadows, destroying his body with invisibility and his mind somewhere stuck in the past. His hands had an ever-present shake, his eyes were darker, and his skin paler. No longer did Tommy sit on his bench, tend to his farm, or laugh with his friends. Everything that had made Tommy Tommy had been crushed in exile, and when Tommy was pushing the shards back together, Dream had stomped it into the mud. He’d killed him.
He hadn't spoken to anyone about what he’d been like when Tommy was dead- and not even Ranboo had known the full extent of it. Tubbo had locked himself in his bunker and started the process of making more nukes. It wasn’t his proudest moment, but it had been something he was glad to have done later.
After Ranboo died, leaving him alone with only their specter roaming the mansion, Tubbo hadn’t known what to do. So he continued the project, disabling the nuke that people knew about, but building more. No one came to check on him besides Tommy, and Tommy could easily be distracted because Tommy trusted him.
He’d never questioned him.
“You want to sacrifice yourself for the rest of the server, save them from Dream. Win. But I can’t let that happen,” Tubbo continued to himself. He doubted Tommy would remember most of this, but maybe this was more for him.
“They stood by when you were in exile, they watched doomsday, they lived on when you died, and they played naive when you were brought back. They are not worthy of your sacrifice,” Tubbo spat. “They are not deserving of your life, and even if they were, I wouldn’t let you throw yourself away for them.”
Three nukes were nearly done priming, and Tubbo knew the coordinates he would send them to. He had spent ages planning them out after Ranboo had passed- his dreams filled with the fallout of his patience severed. Dreams, not nightmares.
“You’re going to live, Tommy. You’re going to heal from everything that's happened to you, and you’re going to forget everyone who gave you false promises of the future,” Tubbo straightened, watching the window idly. There was only an hour until it would all be over. Tommy wouldn’t be happy with it, but he knew Tommy wouldn’t leave him.
Tommy hated being alone, he hated silence, he hated solitude.
And there would be no one left to hurt him.
“It’s you and me, Tommy. To the end of the earth.”
It was a promise.