#ha ha...

tubbo sits at the top of tall, winding stairs. there is no chair to sit on, there is no furniture at all. every room and every house is empty. no allies or enemies walk the grounds of snowchester. maybe that should bring a fresh breath of air but instead it feels suffocating. tubbo can see his breath. his chest is tight. his throat scratches itself from the inside out.

at times where a husband would place a warm cup of tea on the counter there is no one, no place for tea to sit. a son is lost somewhere and tubbo can not move. he once thought that he was at home, that snowchester filled some void. but it is clear now, that void is still evergrowing and hungry. tubbo once filled that gaping hole with work and politics. once that was devoured, a family came into view.

tubbo’s days were spent giggling along with a small child. his evenings with a caring partner who held up when tubbo could not bring himself to walk. now he just lays, on the top of steps meant for the both of them. the steps ranboo paid for, the steps they had ran up once, the steps they toured together for the first time.

a void starts to break open in an empty mansion, in a small lonely boy’s heart. an enemy is supposed to become a friend and a son needs saving. yet tubbo is sitting perfectly still on some odd stairs. even the ghost of the man he loved will not greet him with his presence.