Work Text:
***
Daily routine: Wake up at 7. Go to school. Walk home. Do homework until 6. Eat dinner with parents. Practice piano. Go to bed at 9. Repeat.
***
Niki was the first one he met. It was a curious day from the start. He had woken up earlier than usual, and gone on his way to school with a happy pep to his step. Cringe, he knows. It was only when he got to the cafe did he realize the route he took. Sometimes, the lover took this route to see a random busker outside the cafe. "Niki's cafe," it was called. He thought the busker was funny, but didn't usually pay him any mind. Deciding to be brave, he changed his patch to go inside the cafe instead of just walking past it like the weeks in the past.
The woman at the counter had dyed pink hair, fading into brown at the roots. Her smile was, quite frankly, infectious. Niki was a breeze in a daisy pasture. Not enough to be cold, but just enough to make the flowers sway. A perfect place to have a picnic. He ordered his coffee ( a small white chocolate latte, please and thank you ) and got back on his way to school.
She, too, became a part of his daily routine, the lover too weak to resist her easy smile every morning. They never spoke outside of his coffee order.
***
Wake up at 6:30. Order a coffee ( please and thank you ) from Niki’s Café. Go to school. Do homework until 6. Eat dinner with parents. Practice piano. Go to bed at 9. Repeat.
***
Niki isn’t at the till today. Oh, oh god. This is horrendous. There’s a bald man in her place. He’s scowling at the espresso machine.
Where’s Niki?
She couldn’t make it this morning, something about her cat. She’ll be here this afternoon.
The lover can’t take this. He turns back to leave, the rushing in his ears too loud to hear the man yell to him or to see the coffee already made on the counter. He power walks all the way to school. This is okay, it will be fine. He’ll just have to get his coffee at the end of the day. Maybe he’ll get a different order. Not a caffeinated drink. His parents don’t like that, him drinking coffee after noon. But he can’t handle not seeing Niki in a day. It won't do. His school day is horrible. Nothing goes right. Niki will boost his mood, surely.
He pushes the door open the rest of the way, the bell chiming softly in his head. She’s here. Good.
Ah, you’re here! Jack said he saw you this morning but you ran out, She smiles.
The bald man, right. Jack. The name sounds fitting in his head. There’s a different man here, filling the pastry case. He also has pink hair, though his is not faded or grown out.
Who’s that? The lover is known as blunt to everyone in his life. Might as well not stop now.
That’s Techno, he’s here every day until 5:30, but he bakes in the back in the morning. Techno.
Odd name, but he’ll allow it. Techno chooses that time to stand up, and look at him. Techno is tall. A towering man, one who doesn’t seem like he’d fit in at the quaint café, but somehow he does. The pink hair, he supposes. He gives his order ( A strawberry scone, please and thank you. No latte today? No. ) and leaves.
The next day, he goes inside again. Techno is at the till. Good. He gives his order ( A strawberry scone, please and thank you. Damn, you must like routine) sits down outside at the small table across from the busker. He pretends not to see him.
This spot is nice. He can watch people going into the café, Techno taking their orders, Niki making drinks behind the counter. He decides to do his homework here. He quickly gets distracted by people watching, though. Techno and Niki are just so interesting. Whenever the flow of customers ebbs, Techno picks up a book by the till and sits and reads until the bell rings again. He’s stable, the lover realises. He’s the oldest willow in the park. Swaying in the breeze but never falling over. Perfect to sleep under on a calm day.
Techno chooses that time to exit the café, his shift being over.
Is it 5:30 already? I’m supposed to have my homework done by now. Shit! The lover starts shoving his books back into his back, frustrated. How could he have let himself daydream this long about someone he’ll never know past a pastry order? The rushing in his ears is too loud again. He leaves without saying goodbye to either brother. It’s okay, he knows he’ll be back tomorrow. Techno and his book at the till is too nice to pass up. He does not speak to Techno. Not yet.
***
Wake up at 6:30. Order a coffee ( please and thank you ) from Niki’s café. Go to school. Order a pastry from Techno and do homework at the café until 5:30. Walk home. Eat dinner with parents at 6. Practice piano. Go to bed at 9. Repeat.
***
A few weeks into his new and improved daily routine, the lover’s parents decide he needs a piano tutor. He’s too distracted lately, they say. This is how he meets Phil. He meets with him every night until 8 to work on piano. The lover enjoys Phil’s company. He never yells or slaps the lover’s hands, like his old instructor. The lover is able to laugh, during his piano lessons. Phil is not quite there to teach him anything, something that becomes apparent within the first ten minutes of their first meeting. Instead, Phil sits on the loveseat next to the piano and listens to the lover play.
In between songs, Phil talks of his son. He's a writer. He says his wife is an English teacher, and he is a music teacher. Their son just picked one of their professions to find his love. Phil says they've always wanted another, he jokes that maybe their second would fall towards his profession. The lover thinks it poetic, an even split of professions in the family, each child taking after a parent. The lover always finds an even number in families more rewarding than an odd number. No one can be left out, someone will always take after another.
The lover also decides Phil is the sun. How can he not be, after raising a son he speaks so highly of? He is nurturing, and safe. It is easy to speak to Phil. The lover never finds himself short for words, speaking about his day easily as if he did it every day.
***
Wake up at 6:30. Order a coffee ( please and thank you ) from Niki’s café. Go to school. Order a pastry from Techno and do homework at the café until 5:30. Walk home. Eat dinner with parents at 6. Practice piano with Phil until 8. Go to bed at 9. Repeat.
***
Kristin is an interesting story. Interesting in the way that the lover doesn’t remember the first time he met her. She was just always there. He knows logically that one day she was introduced as the new English teacher, but he was daydreaming that day. Must have been. All he knows is that she claimed her name, Mrs Rosales-Craft, was too long to be used in the classroom (which makes him question why she hyphenated in the first place), and instead was just Kristin. To everyone else, that is. The lover was never one to disregard titles. Instead, he ended up calling her Miss Ro-C, which eventually turned into just Rosie. An odd way to not disregard titles, he’s aware. But Kristin said that if he had to call her some form of her last names, this was the way to go.
How was your session with Phil last night? It’s lunch time, and the lover always eats his lunch in Rosie’s classroom.
How do you know about those, I haven’t told you. Yet, is the unspoken word he knows she hopes for.
She just laughs, her laugh is like a melody. Phil’s my husband. He works here, though I’m not surprised you’ve never seen him. He said you were a much higher level than any of the kids he teaches.
The lover wasn’t expecting Phil to talk of him outside of their sessions. The thought that he was someone to be talked about, like Phil’s son and Rosie were, was a new one.
Knowing this new information changes Kristin’s standing in his head, he thinks. She used to be a bouquet of flowers, mostly because she always had a bouquet of flowers in her room, switching them out every Monday, but also because she let him call her Rosie. This never quite fit with her, as her personality was simply not a bouquet of flowers. Especially not the ones she brought in. If Niki was a slight breeze in a daisy pasture- the daisy pasture being the most important aspect of the description- then Rosie simply could not be a bouquet of flowers.
But knowing now what he does, the lover has finally realised what Kristin is. She is the moon. The sun grows the trees and warms the ocean, but the moon controls the tide and rain clouds. The moon nurtures the world just as much as the sun. They work in tandem to control the earth and its life forces. The perfect family. He supposes he cannot say whether or not he and Rosie never spoke, because he cannot remember.
***
Wake up at 6:30. Order a coffee ( please and thank you ) from Niki’s café. Go to school. Talk to Kristin at lunch ( Hello Rosie ). Finish school. Order a pastry from Techno and do homework at the café until 5:30. Walk home. Eat dinner with parents at 6. Practice piano with Phil until 8. Go to bed at 9. Repeat.
***
Aimsey is unprecedented. Every day on his walk to school, the lover would stop by Niki’s café to get his order ( a small white chocolate latte, please and thank you ), this was normal. Precedented, if you will. What wasn’t, was a busker outside the café. It is not the usual busker. No, this busker has long black hair and a beanie on at all times. This busker is Aimsey.
Quickly, the lover deduces that Aimsey is laughter while a song plays. They are almost always laughing when he sees her. Of course, she sings as well, but every time she sees him, she laughs. The lover doesn’t know why- why they’ve set up here or why they laugh at him. Perhaps he’s friends with the other busker, and they had told them how much the lover tips, and Aimsey is capitalising on his inability to not tip buskers by Niki’s café.
Either way, he deduces that Aimsey is worth categorising within the first two minutes of meeting xem. Xe is, after all, laughter while a song plays.
They don’t speak for a week until finally, Aimsey asks him for a song to sing one day.
Uh, what?
A song. You always tip me, and then leave. I thought that I could actually sing you a song for once. She laughs, again. They’re always laughing. Or smiling, at least.
The lover never thought of that. He supposes with the other buskers he didn’t have to, since they always played their own songs.
Um, I don’t listen to a lot of music, Aimsey’s face drops, But! I do remember a song my English teacher plays all the time, it goes like ‘I was wrong, I was wrong’ .
Kings Elliot! I do know it, yes. Good thing your teacher has such good taste.
Aimsey starts singing the full song, and the lover sits at his table and listens until they finish.
The lover is late to school that day.
***
Wake up at 6. Order a coffee ( please and thank you ) from Niki’s café. Listen to Aimsey play a song for him. Go to school. Talk to Kristin at lunch ( Hello Rosie ). Finish school. Order a pastry from Techno and do homework at the café until 5:30. Walk home. Eat dinner with parents at 6. Practice piano with Phil until 8. Go to bed at 9. Repeat.
***
Ranboo is not as unprecedented as Aimsey is. He is much more frustrating, though.
The lover had always known they were in his class. It’s just that neither of them spoke during class, so neither of them knew each other. Until now, he supposes. Rosie, the traitor, had made them pair up for a presentation. The presentation in itself was easy, one to do at home and then present as a mind break for the class. The lover had planned to memorise a piece on the piano and bring his keyboard to play it for the class. Now that he has to work with Ranboo, he knows he won’t be able to do that.
So, what was your idea for the project? Maybe we could research a niche topic-
No. I can’t do my idea anymore. I don’t even know why Rosie put us together, I always work alone. He hates the way Ranboo pronounces ‘niche’. Nich. Kristin doesn’t do that, and she’s American as well.
Maybe she thought you needed a friend. I’ve never seen you speak to anyone, Ranboo is salty. Like a cracker, or a Himalayan salt lamp.
Ranboo, you’re a Himalayan salt lamp.
What? Okay, dude, what was your idea? Maybe we can use it somehow.
We cannot. I doubt you know piano, and it would be horrible to learn a duet without a partner present even if you did, the lover looks down at his phone once again. English is fifth period, only history to go. Then he can see Techno.
How do you know I don’t know piano? He’s still speaking.
Do you?
Well, no.
My point is made.
I know violin, though! A family friend teaches me. He’s first chair in the cities’ orchestra. His point is unmade.
I suppose we could do a piano and violin duet. The parts would be different enough that we would be able to practice separately.
We could practice together, too, Ranboo looks away, Just a thought.
The lover had thought of this before Ranboo, be aware, but had thrown away the idea the second it came into his mind. His parents would never allow it, I really don’t think we could. But you tried, Rambo.
I- it’s Ranboo, They try to correct him, but the bell has rung and the lover is already gone.
Ranboo tries again on three separate occasions to have them practice together, and it’s only after the lover speaks with Phil that he concedes. The conversation goes a little like this:
But Phillllll, they’re so annoying. They keep asking to practice together. Whining.
Then practice together. I don’t see the issue, mate.
My parents don’t allow friends over, you know that. More whining.
Practice at my place. We can say I suggested a change in location to learn about echo or something.
The lover perked up at that.
So here they are, after school, in Phil’s car, driving to Phil’s house. Ranboo and Phil are making polite conversation. The lover is thinking about how Techno is at the cafe, existing without him currently. He had already told him, Techno always has his pastry ready before he’s there and he didn’t want food to go to waste (yes, that’s the only reason, he promises).
As soon as they get through the door a cat is at their feet. Well, the lover’s feet. It strayed away from Ranboo. Serves him right. It’s a beautiful Siamese and instantly went for the head pat-bite combo. Maybe it should’ve gone to Ranboo.
Ah, that’s Benji. He likes you it seems, Phil says as he takes off his boots.
He bit me.
Phil smiles, Exactly.
He leads the pair through the entry and into the living room, where a certain pink haired man sits on the couch with a book. What the fuck.
What the fuck.
Hello. Phil said you would be here today. I forced Jack to switch shifts with me.
Why are you here? Does Phil give you lessons too? He turns to Phil now, Phil, did you forget you had a lesson now, or did you specifically time it this way? Because that is highly dumb of you, I have to admit.
Phil just laughs, Mate, Techno is my son. Me and Kristin have talked to you about him.
Everyone is always connected. No matter where you go. Techno is the writer son. The dots are connecting, the yarn is stringing, whatever you want to call it, it’s happening right now. In the lover’s head. But why does he work at a cafe if he is a writer?
The lover decides to disregard this information until later for a much more important topic, Is Rosie here? She’s never heard me play.
Techno looks very, very , confused. The small, Rosie? is left unanswered.
Kristin is tutoring right now at the school, but she’ll be here later if you want to play for her. Ah, Phil, the best man- the only man, frankly- never fails to understand. Do you guys want to head to the music room now? You can start right away.
Ranboo, who has been trying to get Benji the cat to enjoy his presence this entire time, turns his attention towards the conversation now and replies before the lover is able to, Yes, that’d be good.
It is with great concern and regret that the lover categorises Ranboo as coffee stained pages within the next hour and a half that they play. Their laughter melds together, as much as the lover will not admit that he laughed at anything Ranboo said.
***
Wake up at 6. Order a coffee ( please and thank you ) from Niki’s café. Listen to Aimsey play a song for him. Go to school. Talk to Kristin at lunch ( Hello Rosie ). Finish school. Walk to the café with Ranboo. Order a pastry from Techno and do homework at the café with Ranboo until 5:30. Walk home. Eat dinner with parents at 6. Practice piano with Phil until 8. Go to bed at 9. Repeat.
***
Do you remember the beginning, when the lover said Niki was the first he met? He lied. He’s a liar. Tubbo is the first one he met.
Tubbo was the first one he ever categorised. (That’s a lie too. Those doctors were the first he categorised, for when you don’t have parents the doctors are the next best thing. He doesn’t like to think about those doctors, as they were the smell of rubbing alcohol, white walls and bedsheets, the woozy feel of anaesthesia-)
Tubbo was bees, honey bees to be exact. The lover was the flower. Tubbo always said he’d be a blue flower, but he thinks now Niki would say a red one, Ranboo would say purple, Phil a yellow one, and Techno would say pink. But Tubbo said blue.
Now, the lover wants to make it clear that Tubbo was a bee not simply because his favourite animal was the bee, but because he was the bee. When he got excited, he would spin and dance in circles. When bored, he would buzz, a quiet hum that got him in trouble in primary more times than the lover could count (the lover could only count to 50 at the time, so take that with a grain of salt)
-Promise you won’t leave me?
I promise, we’ll see each other every weekend! I’ll make my Mum and Dad promise too!
He smiled, Good, that's good! Well, bye then! I’ll see you on Saturday.
I’ll see you on Saturday!-
They had never gotten to Saturday. Four days after the lover’s new parents had carted him out of that group home, Tubbo’s parents had done the same. For all the lover knows, Tubbo was moved to a town a few hours away, and the group home had not been willing to give even a phone number, something about confidentiality. Seven year-old him had thought it stupid.
Which is why, 10 years after that fated Saturday never came, the lover is confused to see a boy looking shockingly close to his Tubbo being introduced as Toby to his English class.
He sits next to Ranboo, who has moved next to the lover after Rosie had seen them walking out together one day, a very well-timed ‘random seating arrangement change’. Which means that this not-quite-Tubbo boy is sitting next to the lover, as well.
Hello, I’m Ranboo. You’re Toby, right? There goes Ran- boob again, always has to be nice.
Yeah, most people call me Tubbo though. Wait-
The lover’s head jerks to the side, suddenly very happy at Ranboo’s need to be nice. Him and Tubbo make eye contact over Ranboo’s desk, Tubbo smiling slightly.
Hello. He doesn’t remember him.
And that’s okay, the lover decides, after he’s said hello and gone back to his work, Ranboo and Tubbo continuing their conversation without him. It’s okay that Tubbo doesn’t remember him, because they only lived with each other for a few months. Not even a worthy amount of time.
It’s okay that Tubbo doesn’t remember him, because Tubbo is no longer a bee. He can’t be. Even if he dances in his seat a little when he laughs, even if he hums that low buzz while Ranboo is speaking, he can’t be the same. Because this Tubbo doesn’t remember him, and that Tubbo was the first one to show him how to be human.
***
Wake up at 6. Don’t think about Tubbo. Order a coffee ( please and thank you ) from Niki’s café. Don’t think about Tubbo. Listen to Aimsey play a song for him. Don’t think about Tubbo. Go to school. Talk to Kristin at lunch ( Hello Rosie ). Don’t think about Tubbo. Finish school. Don’t think about Tubbo. Walk to the café with Ranboo. Don’t think about Tubbo. Order a pastry from Techno and do homework at the café with Ranboo until 5:30. Don’t think about Tubbo. Walk home. Don’t think about Tubbo. Eat dinner with parents at 6. Don’t think about Tubbo. Practice piano with Phil until 8. Don’t think about Tubbo. Go to bed at 9. Don’t think about Tubbo. Repeat.
***
The lover is aware that he is losing people.
Even if he is doing the same thing with the same people every day, he’s aware he is losing them. It’s purely his fault. He doesn’t recommend Aimsey a song anymore, even if he waves at star every day; he doesn’t speak to Rosie about her day at lunch, opting to eat in silence; he barely speaks to Ranboo on the walk to the café (the first week they walked, all Ranboo could talk about was how cool Tubbo was, Tubbo this and Tubbo that. The lover stopped talking sometime during that week); he doesn’t smile at Techno when he gets his order ( A strawberry scone, please and thank you); Even his practice sessions with Phil are muted, the lover no longer asking questions about Techno and Rosie (the writer and the reader) anymore.
It’s two weeks into this new (and hated) routine before anyone says anything. Techno is the one that calls him out. The stable willow tree atop the hill, the first one to say what everyone is thinking.
What the fuck is up with you, kid?
The lover splutters, not even finished with his order (it’s already on the counter, has been since before he stepped foot into the café).
What- what do you mean? Ranboo isn’t with him today. Something about a project with Tubbo for a class that the lover is not in, science or woodworking, something stupid. Must be why Techno thinks it’s okay to ambush him like this, Nothing’s wrong. Everything is fine. I’m fine.
See, now that is what makes me think something is indeed wrong. You don’t repeat yourself.
I wasn’t repeating myself.
Kid, don’t make this difficult.
Sorry.
Techno sighs, and opens the flap in the counter, gesturing the lover into the backroom, Let’s talk.
And talk they did. The lover tells him everything, from his group home, from his promise to Tubbo, to his parents taking him away, to Tubbo moving towns, to Tubbo not remembering him when he moved back (-not about the doctors, though, he can’t tell him about the doctors yet-), all done with his strawberry scone and a special hot chocolate Techno made him ( hot cocoa cures all issues, trust me) .
Afterwards, Techno regards him with a blank stare.
Why don’t you just ask him if he remembers you?
This makes the lover stop short. He never thought of this. It can’t be that simple. Nothing is ever that simple for him.
Because- well, because clearly I wasn’t that important to him. He didn’t have the same circumstances, it would be foolish to think I was just as important to him as he was to me.
Kid, you were seven. In a group home. Of course you were important to him.
The lover is quiet for a few moments. Techno doesn’t seem to mind, getting up to check on Jack who’s been banished to the till. He allows the lover time to process this. Something no one ever did.
Finally, he speaks up again, Can I have dinner at your house tonight?
***
Wake up at 6. Don’t think about Tubbo. Order a coffee ( please and thank you ) from Niki’s café. Listen to Aimsey play a song for him. Go to school. Don’t think about Tubbo. Talk to Kristin at lunch ( Hello Rosie ). Don’t think about Tubbo. Finish school. Don’t think about Tubbo. Walk to the café with Ranboo and Tubbo. Order a pastry from Techno and do homework at the café with Ranboo and Tubbo until 5:30. Drive to the Craft residence Techno. Practice piano with Phil until 8. Let Phil drive him home. Say hello to his parents. Go to bed at 9. Don’t think about Tubbo. Repeat.
***
He doesn’t quite speak to Tubbo about the home. That isn’t to say he doesn’t speak to Tubbo, because he does, just that the home is never mentioned. Techno is smart, and the lover believes him when he says that the home was just as important to Tubbo, but the lover is also smart and knows that the home is not a happy memory, for either of them. Neither of them want to think about how their parents left them with unfamiliar people, how they didn’t care enough to love them, and so the lover doesn’t bring it up.
And anyway, he and Tubbo are never alone, so he never gets the chance to ask him about it. He doesn’t think Tubbo would appreciate having Ranboo find out he was adopted (he was left, they were left, abandoned-) from someone other than himself. So, he doesn’t ask.
It’s good like this. He has a tentative friendship with him through Ranboo, though Ranboo stays unaware of the underlying tension the lover feels whenever he opens his mouth. And, in the evenings, after the lover has done his homework, has sat in silence long enough for the doubt to creep back in, he eats dinner with the Crafts, and plays piano for Rosie, and inevitably goes home to his parents to think about Tubbo some more.
He doesn’t ask Tubbo about the home, about the bees and the flowers and the little dance and the humming. Tubbo does.
Why didn’t you say anything? It’s a rare moment where Ranboo has to go to the bathroom, leaving him and Tubbo alone. Damn Ranboo and their human anatomy. Why couldn't he be an alien?
The lover takes a second to glance at Techno, hoping he has sensed his distress. He hasn’t. Fuck Techno too, he supposes, What do you mean?
When we saw each other again, why didn’t you say anything? Do you not want Ranboo to know about the home?
The home? He remembers? He remembers! Wait, he remembers.
Why didn’t you? You’re the louder of us.
I’m the louder one? He laughs. What is laughable about this? You may not speak as much as you used to but you’re just as loud.
That makes absolutely no fucking sense, big man. When is Ranboo coming back, how long does it take for a person to piss?
Tommy, all of the workers here know you, hell, you’re friends with the owner. The cashier has your order ready for you before you step in the door. The busker outside lights up when we turn onto the street. You eat dinner at Kristin’s house every night . Ranboo told me you know every one of the Craft’s as if they’re your own family. I’m lucky if Kristin speaks to me past a class-related topic. You’re loud.
He called Techno ‘the cashier’. He doesn't even know the busker. Now that he thinks about it, who even is this guy?
Tommy looks back at Techno once more, he's looking now. Ranboo is next to him, in a quiet conversation with Jack. Traitors.
I never thought of it that way.
Tubbo simply smiles, a smile that says he knew that already, That’s because you’ve never categorised yourself.
This bastard. Tommy smiles despite himself. You changed. Did you know that?
Tubbo leans forward, eager to hear his new categorisation, I’m no longer a bee? What am I now?
A pig. A pig covered in mud.
Tubbo cackles and smacks him on the arm. Fucking bastard.
Ranboo decides it's safe to come over- not that it ever wasn’t, but Tommy digresses, and their conversation starts anew.
And if Tommy talks a little bit more and if Tubbo laughs a little bit easier, no one has to mention it.
***
Wake up at 6. Order a coffee ( please and thank you ) from Niki’s café. Listen to Aimsey play a song for him. Go to school. Talk to Kristin at lunch ( Hello Rosie ). Finish school. Walk to the café with Ranboo and Tubbo. Order a pastry from Techno and do homework at the café with Ranboo and Tubbo until 5:30. Drive to the Craft residence with Techno. Practice piano with Phil until 8. Let Phil drive him home. Say hello to his parents. Go to bed at 9. Repeat.
Saturday Weekly Routine: Sleep in until 9. Order a coffee ( please and thank you ) from Niki’s café. Meet up with Tubbo and Ranboo at the park at 10. Walk to Niki’s for lunch at 1. Bother Techno until Ranboo has to leave at 3. Walk back home with Tubbo. Eat dinner with his parents and Tubbo. Let his parent’s drive Tubbo home. Repeat.
***
It’s a Saturday, well into the summer, that Tommy finally asks the question.
Ranboo couldn’t make it today, and Techno won’t be at the café, something about a rehearsal for a concert later in the week (Tommy says he doesn’t care, but everyone knows he’ll be in the front row of that concert), so it’s just Tubbo and Tommy. They’re cloud-gazing in Tubbo’s backyard.
What am I?
What?
Tommy sits up. You said I never categorised myself. So what am I?
Tubbo sits up at this, realising it's a serious conversation they’re about to have, not one for cloud-gazing.
Well, what is everyone else?
Techno is a willow tree, Phil the sun and Kristin the moon. You’re a pig- Tubbo cackles- Ranboo is coffee-stained pages, Aimsey is laughter while a song plays, and Niki is a cool breeze.
Well then. Tommy, I think you are a lover.
Tommy turns to him at this. They haven’t been facing each other, neither truly one for eye-contact. This is an eye-contact moment, however.
What.
Tubbo laughs again (-Tommy lied when he said Tubbo was a pig, he was actually a child’s giggle, riddled with joy and untainted by the horrors of the earth), You’re a lover. You categorise everyone into specific earthly things because you love them. If you want a better answer, then you’re the earth, connecting everyone around you and giving them life. But what is the earth if not love itself?
Tommy sits with this, while Tubbo goes back to cloud-gazing rather quickly. He’s never been one to dwell too hard on things. After a few minutes he goes back to cloud-gazing as well. He thinks Tubbo is smart not to dwell. Sometimes.
***
Fin.