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"Hey, you dipshit move".Tommy jolts startled by honking.Shit.He rubs his face.
Green light flashes his eyes.He starts his car down the road.Fucking green everywhere.He yawns and it turns a wave of dizziness into smoke evaporating in the air.Gentle clicking from the indicator grounds his mind to the road.
Legs stretching he spots Mr.Halo's shop in the distance.Thinks he should go visit him soon.He'd made a new song for the shop,his favourite project of the week.A work of art if he was being honest.Educational too,perfect when you must learn reproductive organs.
Maybe he shouldn't risk making these ridiculous songs anymore seeing as his position in the cafe had been compromised.Yeah that was a good idea.Too bad he couldn't give a shit.Everything's Dream's fault anyways.
Still he couldn't help but wonder if maybe Tubbo would hear about this and come by to scold him into oblivion.It was essential that Tubbo came by on his own.His Tubbo.His friend goddamnit.He sure was that.
Speaking of the bee-boy,he smiles remembering the bags he had in the back.The trip to the store was worth it after all.
He will have one hell of a birthday party.
It's the only thought occupying him all the way to the house.Through his creaking door and around his apartment.Makes him jump up and down-like a fucking kangaroo-decorating and rearranging.An upbeat song is on as always, Melohi.He dances along with it.Maybe knocking a few photos over.Who cares?He didn't need to look at them anymore,did he?
He hauls up mountains of clothes and throws them in the bin.Been a while since he did that.Maybe cleaning up a bit is not a bad idea.His dark oak table is looking rather grey.
The past few days have not exactly been poggers.But he'll take it.His friends are coming tonight.
He is done in about an hour.A banter is hung above the wall behind the table.Happy BDay our fave A-Male,it reads.If he could grow a second pair of arms to pat himself in the back,he would.
He looks around the room and sighs.In his excitement he had prepared an hour early.
God the waiting.
He should just call them,tell them to come now.What was he on about?He can wait an hour.He waited for weeks for fucks shake.He taps his foot.
They'll come.
He is waiting for seven to come around.Eyes stuck at the clock on the wall.It used to be Dream's.He scoffs.If only Dream hadn't decided to go against him.
06.08
This song is annoying him.He should find something else.Turning to his library he contemplates.He catches a glimpse of "how to sex 2".Searching behind it he grabs Wilbur's first song.
He'd made it before the cafe burned down.Tommy should probably hide it before he arrives.They don't talk about L'Manberg in front of him.Just like they don't call him Ghostbur to his face.It's simply a whisper between them.He doesn't know if maybe he prefers him to whom was before that,when Schlatt had kidded them out.The memory runs like ice-cold water down his back,jittering his hair on end but it doesn't much matter to him no more.He's grown to seek reminders.
06.23
Maybe he should put the cake back in the fridge?Yeah,that's a good idea.
07.00
He takes out his phone.Looks at seconds pass by,eyes blinking at the blinding screen.He must be going insane.So what if none of them are on time?
07.06
Sitting by the open window,he waits for Ranboo's black and white shining car.
They're coming.
He can feel it in his bones.Tubbo is probably having trouble with his tie again.God he couldn't do anything without his help.
07.17
Had there been any road accidents?The past few days rain's been pouring like hell.It's not unlikely.They'll be here.
07.23
The door-bell rings.He nearly falls over as he stands from his spot.He doesn't think he ran this fast when he was trying to get disks away from Dream.The door bangs against the wall as he opens it.
Speak of the damn devil.
Who even told him about this?He scoffs,stepping aside.
07.56
They'll come.
"I'm sure they will Tommy."Can the fucker read thoughts as well now?Had he really said that out loud?Er-How many times had he said it out loud?
"Six I think."Tommy's head snaps to him,Dream chuckles.
"Kidding.Kidding I-I lost count actually.You are like some child on a roadtrip asking when we'll be there."
"I am not a child.I am turning 19 Dream,can you not read?",he points to the cake."Plus that analogy would make you my dad.And my dad is much greater."
"Well Philza's not here.I guess I'll have to do for now."
"He is coming."How is it that he always ends up screaming whenever Dream's around?
08.36
He can't write songs anymore.Well he could.But he won't.Why?
Simply because he's run out of ideas.The only thing he's been up to lately is sitting inside.With how he can't go to the cafe.And all his friends are there having fun,preparing,always preparing for the next concert.They are keeping the place warm.Not just a shop.You could feel it in the air.They put their blood into building it.They tore their hands and made a home for their music.It was theirs and they fought for it.They went against Dream and his shop down the side of the same street.And maybe they didn't have as many customers.But it was all they needed anyways.
So when he is alone in his house,well what is there to write about?Not something to spite Dream.Not a duo for him and Tubbo.Nothing to lift Wilbur's spirits and stop his constant stress.Not a single song about his many girlfriends came to mind.
But surely when they come around they'll have hundreds of stories to tell.Thousands of things to complain about.All of them reasons as to why they never had time to visit him.He would write about them all.Down to the pettiest argument.
He just had to wait.
They'll come.
9.42
Birthday hat still on he takes some paper.If he couldn't compose he'd try drawing.Genius,truly a wonder child he was.Maybe something for the guests would be nice.It would make them laugh.He was sure Quackity would double over.
So it couldn't be too serious.As if he would manage that.He stands looking around the room wishing for some inspiration until his eyes fall on him.
Dream's lounging on his armchair.One hand over the armrest and another on his phone.One leg crossed over the other and he still looks more comfortable than he feels in his own house.He is a weird man.
He must be in love with that armchair.Always sits there in his visits to check Tommy wasn't copying another of Goerge's songs.As if he would ever need to do that.So he might have written a parody with Ranboo.That does not mean he copied a song.Dream was lying his ass off.Threatening to take them to court.It wasn't worth it.It was also not worth all this trouble with him not being allowed in the cafe.But what can he do if he has to deal with this asshole.
Said asshole he will draw.That's what he'll do.He grabs a black pen,leans on the table and he makes a circle with his famous smile on it.Who chooses to perform with a mask which has that smile on it?Like he said,he was a weird man.He needs to draw a body probably.He checks the clock.
09.44
Making a line down the centre for the torso he realises it is too much to the left so he continues the motion down and up to the right again.He ends up with a blob Dream.He'll take it.He draws the armchair he is sitting on too.He makes a cloud on the side of the blob.I am a pissbaby,he writes in it.Picking the paper up he holds it in front of him,crumpling the edges.Dream's eyes pass over to him.Tommy turns the paper.
He frowns so evidently it only serves to make Tommy burst out laughing.He should add mexican Dream probably.
"That was one time,"he whines."And how do you even know about that?."
"I am favoured by many ladies Dream.And they talk so much to me."
"Oh,fuck off."Dream stands up.Reaches for the paper but Tommy pulls away just in time.He makes it into a ball and throws it above dreams head.It trumples on the floor,but Tommy is too slow to catch it first.Dream strives for the bathroom.
"Wow-hey where are going with that?Dream?"The toilet flusses taking the poor thing away."What is wrong with you man?"
"I decided to be the only person to show up to a fucking birthday party.Clearly something."
"They're coming."It bounces off the walls and comes back to him.It's not a lie but it could be."Maybe.Wilbur forgot the invitations?"
"I talked to everyone.I checked.They have their invitations."Tommy clutches to joke at him,to expand the previous annoyance evident in his voice but he finds none,comes up with no retort.
A dizziness fizzles his head.The one he'd buried deep within rekindling step by step.The past few weeks emerging so vividly in his mind.All of it'd felt like a dream.And yet he had barely slept throughout it.It was hours spend in front of the blue light of his TV.A world that had been unsteady on his feet.How he'd stayed inside.Hadn't managed to call his dad.He would always send Wilbur to the supermarket,even if he knew it made him nervous.And Wilbur didn't have it in him to complain.He's been a brother to him and so much more.What has Tommy been?It's nagging at the back of his head.A weight he cannot place.A coldness he can't shake.
Tommy leaves.He feels like lying down.As he passes the table and he knocks over a glass.It shutters on the floor.He looks at it.Thinks about cleaning the mess.Picking up the pieces and swiping away the dust.Turns his back.Collapses,on the couch.
Dream appears.He takes another paper as well as the pen,nudges Tommy and sits by his side.
"Draw L'Manberg.The first one.It looked better."
"Piss off,man."
"Melohi?It's been a while since I've seen it."
"So what now you're an old man too?"
"No."
"Forgetting's only the first step,I tell you."Nonetheless he manages a circle.Then two.In-between of where he'd schrible black,he plasters a Dream smile and writes,Asshole. Dream takes it in his hand.He smiles.It's a smile so genuine.It sets Tommy ablaze.He wants to breathe it in.
And then Dream shifts, and it's washed away before he can think to blink.
Getting up from the couch Dream fixes his shirt.The window's still open,winter breeze making its way through.A shiver grips at Tommy's spine-shakes him,shoulders to bones.
"Where are you going?"
"Sapnap needs me for something.He texted me a while back",he puffs."He'll love the drawing.I'll see you tomorrow Tommy,yeah?".He's already reached the door.It's a soft click when it closes,enveloping the room.
Tommy looks past the cushions to the wood squeezed between nothing but plain walls.There are words scratching at his throat.Begging to be let out into the world.A lump like the jolty road leading up to his home.His hands are itching expecting him to rub his eyes.
If it puts him at ease-Dream's promise of return-he'd curse his stupid self and turn face first into plush cushions hoping to wipe it of all shame and disgust.