#ghost!tommyinnit

She leans against the large tower not too far away. This must be the one Tommy jumped off of before running to Techno’s. It’s easy enough to guess that’s what happened, what with Tubbo rushing back in tears to announce Tommy’s death, before sweeping everything under the rug. God, she can’t imagine how he’s feeling now.

Tears spring to her eyes as he pulls away from the tower. It’s pointless to dwell on everything negative here, it’s pointless to even be here. Puffy knows she’s only here to assuage her own guilt over letting Tommy remain in exile, even though she’d tried her best to help him cope.

“I wouldn’t feel too guilty if I were you.”

Puffy almost wants to chalk that up to a hallucination. She wants to pinch herself and tell herself this is a dream, but when she turns toward the water, the ghostly form of Tommy is sitting there, letting his bare feet dangle.

He looks like he did before exile: a healthy teenager with no wear and tear. He’s sitting, with one leg drawn up to his chest and resting his arms on that knee. In his hands is some of Wilbur’s blue, and Tommy’s got a grin on his face.

Most notable is the lack of grey pigment in his skin. He’s very clearly a ghost, but he doesn’t actually look like one.

“Tommy?” Puffy feels like the air had been knocked out of her. “You’re... you’re here?”

“Yeah, isn’t it weird?” He laughs as he tosses blue at her feet. His eyes are shining a bright blue, brighter than they had been in life. “One minute I’m screaming for Sam to let me out, and the next minute I’m sat here, contemplating everything. I’ve come to the conclusion that it sucks.”

Puffy remains silent as she bends down at the knee, gently grabbing at the blue. Trembling fingers grasp at it as she straightens back up, staring at the small object. The silence drags on for too long, so she opts to sit down next to him.

“Tommy-”

“You know, I never understood why Ghostbur kept throwing blue at everyone,” Tommy interrupts. “I thought it was just something he did, y’know? He was weird like that, but I was just so happy to have him around that I accepted it as one of his many annoying quirks. But now I think I understand more. It’s easy to let things go if you don’t have to think about them. I can just take this shit, fill it with my own shit and trauma and whatever, toss it out and move on. It’s like it’s physically gone.”

“You remember?” Puffy watches him through her peripheral vision. He’s manifesting more...whatever it is, watching as it turns to blue. He hands her another one. “Wilbur didn’t remember.”

“I wanted to remember. I wouldn’t be as awesome if I was some fake happy version of myself, would I?”

She has to admit that he’s right.

“Look, I see it all over your face Puffy. I just wanted to tell you to stop feeling guilty, alright? You didn’t do it. You couldn’t have prevented it.”

Tears fill her vision. “It was my job to protect you. You were a child, Tommy. I should have done more for you.”

“I wouldn’t have let you in, you know. You or Sam or anyone who wanted to help. I was responsible for me, I didn’t want anyone’s pity.” He tosses a blue into the water. Puffy watches it slip below the surface. “It’s why Sam Nook was created. If Sam had tried to help directly I would have pushed him away. You don’t have to feel so guilty.”

“But we do, Tommy. We do feel guilty, we do feel responsible. You might feel like it was just you against the world, but we did care.”

“I know. I’m glad you cared; that was more than enough for me. Sometimes that’s all I want from anyone, is just to know.” He offers her a more gentle grin. It’s so Tommy, but it’s also something far wiser than he should have to be. As if he knows what’s waiting for him on the other side.

“Are you going to be around, like Ghostbur?”

“Nah. I’m not giving that green bastard a chance to toy with me. You know he’s going to, so I’m going to take my L and move on with Wilbur. He’s waiting for me, you know.”

Fresh tears spring to her eyes. The idea that Tommy doesn’t want to stick around feels hollow, but she can understand his logic there, too. “So we’ll never see you again?”

“Puffy.” Tommy sighs as he presses a hand to her shoulder. He uses her as stability while getting to his feet. “Sometimes people don’t come back after death, y’know. Schlatt and Wilbur did, but sometimes they just don’t. I don’t have any unfinished business. Mine was bringing Wilbur back, but since I’m not around anymore, there’s really no point to it, is there?”

“Yeah, but your friends-”

“-don’t need me as much as they think they do.” There’s another one of his bright smiles. “This isn’t a sad ending, Pussy. What was it you were saying yesterday? This is a new age, isn’t it? You and Sam, you two are going to lead them somewhere new. Build a statue in my honor, alright? Make it the coolest statue ever. Bigger than anyone else, so the world will know how big of a man I am.”

Puffy laughs. Not just at his words, but his purposeful use of the name ‘Pussy’. Even now, he’s resorting to being obnoxious and crude, and she knows she’s going to miss it. “Tommy, you were the best of all of us.”

“Nah.” He snorts and shakes his head. “Do me one last favor, will you?”

“If it’s to beat up Dream, I’ll gladly take that on.”

“Okay, well two favors then.” Tommy’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “Give some blue to Tubbo, will you?” He offers her a few pieces, which she takes carefully, treating them like something extremely fragile, which they are.

“Any message you want me to pass to him?”

“Yeah: ‘it’ll be okay’.”

“That’s it?” Puffy lifts an eyebrow. “No ‘I love you’, no ‘you’ll carry on my legacy’, anything like that?”

“Puffy, Tubbo doesn’t need messages like that. He’s not that deep.” Tommy rolls his eyes. “No, just that it’ll be okay. He’ll be okay without me, he’ll be okay being Tubbo. He’s got Snowchester and shit, he’ll be okay.”

Puffy nods. “I’ll give him the blue and the message then, Tommy. Are you off?”

“Yeah. I can already hear Wilbur screaming at me and calling me a child. I’ve got to go punch his stupid face in, because I’m a big man and I can take him, even dead.”

Puffy laughs at that. Even with tears streaming down her cheeks, she feels a new sort of joy. “Tommy, can I hug you goodbye?”

No words are exchanged here, Tommy silently complies. He feels warm, so she wraps her arms firmly around him, holding him close. The hug is doing wonders; it’s like every inch of sadness is being pulled out of her, like he’s trying his best to help. When he finally pulls away, Puffy still feels light.

“It’ll be okay, Puffy,” Tommy says. He drops more blue at her feet. “Don’t let shit get you down too much, alright? You’re Captain Puffy, and you know better than anyone what needs to be done. But also don’t hesitate to ask for help when you need it.”

With that, he’s gone. Disappeared into some beyond, or afterlife, or wherever he’s going. Puffy doesn’t necessarily know where that might be, but knowing he’s with Wilbur in the end has her feeling better.

Bending down, she picks up the last of the blue. She wonders if when they all die, they’ll end up with blue, but that’s a fleeting thought as she puts it all in her backpack.

He’s right, it is a new age. She’s not going to let him down by wallowing in misery, not when she has a whole server to clean up. Marching toward the portal, Puffy wears a smile on her face. She’s got a new pep in her step, and she’s not going to let anyone take that away from her.

Techno stretched as he surveyed his room, cardboard boxes strewn around it.They’d lived here before, when he was small - him, Phil, and his brothers. It was just him and Phil now. The two of them had travelled around for a while after Tommy died, but his best friend Tubbo had written, asking them to come back. The teen had been there a couple of times to check up on the property while they’d been gone, since he’d practically lived there before - love not being one of the things he got from his abusive uncle Schlatt. He’d become almost the 5th member of their family, even spending nights there when his only living relative was off his head drunk (which happened quite often).

However, they’d been informed that Schlatt had died of a heart attack while yelling at the teen, and now Tubbo lived alone in his uncle’s house, missing his found family. He’d also mentioned that there was something wrong with their old house, but Techno hadn’t really been paying attention if he was honest.

“Techno!” Phil called up the stairs.

“What do you want for dinner?”

He halted mid-stretch, thinking.

“I’ll cook!”

The 21-year-old yelled back, stepping over boxes to get to the door. His dad stood at the bottom of the stairs, leaning on the banister.

“What ingredients should I leave out then?”

The man asked, lowering his voice from a yell now that the other was in earshot. As Techno rattled off a list of ingredients, he felt something, like fingers carding through his long hair from behind. He was reminded eerily of the way his older brother Wilbur used to play with his hair, plaiting or just combing through it with his hands, but Techno just shivered and continued listing the things he would need for his spagbol - a family favourite. Tommy especially used to love his homemade garlic bread…

“And spaghetti, obviously.”

He finished.

“Gotcha. When are you gonna start cooking? It is getting kinda late...”

Philza glanced at his watch, remembered it had stopped working and pulled out his phone to check the time instead.

“Well, I’ve still got some stuff to unpack, so… maybe half an hour?”

“Alright, that’ll give me time to get the kitchen done. See you in a bit!”

Techno had barely turned around than Phil was back again, a confused expression on his face.

“Did you call me?”

The 21-year-old faced his father figure, equally bewildered.

“Hehh? No…”

“Oh… I could of sworn I heard… Nevermind.”

The blonde man left abruptly, shaking his head.

Confused, Techno shrugged, wondering if there was some kind of social cue he’d missed, or if he’d been inadvertently rude. He headed back upstairs continuing to search through various boxes for what he needed.

“All I wanted was a toothbrush, how hard is it?!”

He hissed angrily, rummaging through a box of clothes. A strand of light pink hair fell in his face and Techno brushed it away, reaching for the hair tie he remembered dropping on the bed earlier.

But instead of a hairband, Techno’s fingers closed on a long, hard object, with soft bristles at one end - his toothbrush!

“How the hell did that get there?!”

He was 250% sure it was not there 2 seconds ago, but whatever. It was the last thing he needed, so Techno seized the hairband and left.

Stepping carefully down the stairs, hands behind his head tying his hair, Techno barely had the time to react as he felt someone shove him forward, hands between his shoulder blades - and then he was falling. He tumbled down the stairs head first, and cried out as his back slammed into the floor with a nasty crack. For a moment, all he could do was lay there, hyperventilating, and scanning the empty stairwell for who pushed him.

Philza ran through from the kitchen, gasping in horror. Ignoring everything else, Techno sat up, tearing off his shirt and twisting around to check his back. It hurt like hell, but Techno was more interested in the mark there.

That night, they attempted to contact the ghost, having experienced some of what the owners had reported. Niki thought she’d seen Wilbur at the end of the second floor corridor when he was actually outside, and could barely spend ten seconds in the headache-inducing bedroom. Wilbur didn’t go in – the sight of Tommy’s bedroom would have been too much.

The two ghost hunters set up a small red box in the hallway outside Tommy’s the bedroom. The device would amplify any sounds the spirit made when they attempted to contact it. Niki turned it on, cleared her throat and asked:

“Is there any spirits here who would like to speak to us?”

Nothing.

“Hello?”

“…fuck…”

A voice came faintly through the speakers, barely audible through the static.

Niki looked up at Wilbur, who was trying not to smile.

He knew that voice.

“Let me try.”

He said, glancing around the empty room out of the corner of his eyes, a good tactic for seeing ghosts. He spotted a flash of blonde hair, and his face broke out in a grin.

“T- Tommy?”

Then, through the speaker, as clear as he’d ever heard in his 5 years of ghost hunting:

“Wilbur I love you I love you- love you I love y- Wilby I love-”

It broke up into static for a moment, then came back, slightly fainter.

“In my room- my room Wil- I love yo- love you- check my room- please Wilby now- love- Phil love Techno-”

Niki’s eyes were wide with shock as Wilbur burst through the door of the bedroom, bracing himself for the symptoms that the others had described, but he felt nothing. Niki winced as she passed through the doorway, then stepped back into the corridor.

Tommy sat on his old bed, slightly see-through, greyed out, and apparently frozen staring out the window, but his voice still poured through the device.

“Wil- bed- *cshhhh* -you fucking- idiot Wilbur you- *crackle* -an arsehole- under the bed!”

Wilbur knelt down on the dusty floorboards, carefully avoiding his brother’s apparition, and flung his arm under the bed, drawing out a small cardboard box, coated with 8 years of dust. The ghost hunter blew it away, carefully lifting the top off.

Inside was a small toy compass with ‘Your Tubbo’ in sharpie on it, a family photo, and a letter.

Tears stung Will’s eyes as he saw the items, kept safe by the ghost for so long. He looked up, and the apparition on the bed had moved, instead crouching next to him, looking at the box.

“Tommy I never-” Wilbur’s words were broken up by sobs.

“I never said- I’m sorry, Toms, I’m so sorry-”

The little box he held crackled with stactic.

“I love you, Wilby…”

Then he was gone, the ghostly figure by his side fading away.

Tears dripped down Will’s face as he flipped the envelope over, seeing ‘To Wilbur, Techno, Phil and Tubbo’ written in Tommy’s terrible handwriting on the back. He opened it with shaking hands, imagining he could almost hear Tommy’s obnoxious voice reading it out.

Dear Phil, Wilbur, Tubbo and Techno,

I know I’ll never give this to you, but it’s the best draft I’ve got so far, so here goes.

I know I’m not good with words, and I try and cover things up with bluster and swearing, but I love all of you. You’re my family, and I love the way Phil tries to pretend like he doesn’t have favourites, or the way Techno nerds out about greek mythology and calls me ‘Theseus’ all the time. I love the way Tubbo can’t talk about anything but bees, and I love listening to Wilbur’s emo songs. You’re all annoying, and you’re all complete dipshits, but for some reason I love you anyway.

Love,

Tommy

Fuck shit that’s so soppy and teerrible shitttt fukc meee

Wilbur couldn’t help but smile at the scribbled out message at the bottom of the short letter, even though he was still crying.