Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

After a long day of marching band practice, Quackity gets in his 2001 Honda civic. A shitty car, but one that still ran well enough to get him home from practice.

He opens the door and slides in, fumbling around for his keys before shoving them in the ignition, desperate to get home.

He yawns before throwing his flute in the passenger seat, along with his bag and jacket, turning the car into reverse and backing up, all Quackity could think about was "God it's so late" and "why the fuck did I do marching band"

He begins his journey home before he comes to a halt. "Shit. A road closure."
Unfortunately, the only way home was over an ancient bridge that was due to collapse any day now.

Regretting not taking up schlatt's offer to drive him home, he gave a quick prayer, averting his gaze to the rosary hanging from his rear-view mirror.

"SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT." he pressed his foot down on the gas.

He makes it. Then all the sudden the wind picks up and the branches on near by trees start thrashing, shaken up, he continues his drive home.

The car starts to go off balance, now swerving, out of his control. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

It was too late.

BAM. his car slams into a tree, turning it almost in half, seconds later, before Quackity can escape, it blows up in flames.

10 years later.

Tommy wakes up for school the next morning, reluctant to get out of bed, using his sanctioned 30 minutes of "Prime, Please I don't want to get up" laying in bed time he works into his morning.

Techno and Wilbur always drove to school together with their much cooler friends before Tommy wakes up. Tommy didn't care that they left him. He knew he was cooler than anybody else they hangout with.

Phil and Kirsten were still asleep, so the house was usually quiet in the mornings. He clipped together his necklace, a small dainty chain with the church prime cross on it, and threw an outfit on, lacing up his beat converse, and grabbing his backpack before heading outside.

He sits on a lawn chair until the bus arrives.

Upon getting on the bus, he sits in the retaliative middle, not a loser, who talks to the bus driver, and not loud enough, or cool enough, to sit in the back. If he was neutral, his seat should be too.

They pass over a newly constructed version of the old broken bridge. Tommy's eyes lingered as they passed over it, staring into the ditch below. If you look hard enough, you could still see some metal scraps from the wreck that has occurred maybe ten years earlier. Tommy wasn't old enough to understand, but he remembered his brothers and parents being shaken up by it, as they occasionally hung out with the boy. They didn't like talking about it though.

Of course Tommy knew it wasn't a wreck. He was much smarter than that. People just didn't want to believe in the super natural. Tommy was a big conspiracy theorist, he didn't believe anything anyone said unless he could prove it himself, even if he couldn't prove his own theories sometimes. Can you tell he doesn't have many friends?

He watches as they pass by the "Quackity memorial highway" sign.

sometimes he'd talk to someone's parent who knew him. They'd all tell him it was a "horrible accident."

Tommy knew better than to correct them.

He thought about Shroud, his spider he kept in the biggest tank the pet store sold. Shroud was the most pampered jumping spider there's ever been. He wondered what Shroud did all day while he was at school. Maybe he got lonely without Tommy. The thought made him sad.

He sat alone the rest of the bus ride, before getting off at his school, and making his way to a secluded spot he usually sat in the mornings, behind the theater room.

He shook his head, but the thought of shroud being all alone in his cage didn't fall out. Tommy knew how it felt to be alone. He didn't want his beloved pet to feel like that. WHat if he felt too small in such a large cage? or maybe the cage wasn't big enough? was he holding him against his will? did Shroud wish to be free? Tears started to well up in his eyes. He lifted his shirt sleeves and patted the corners of his eyes.

It wasn't like Tommy didn't have friends, it was just that he had a hard time being able to name any that weren't Tubbo and Ranboo.

Sure, he spoke to people all the time, before exile, it was usually Praise for techno, or "aren't you Wilbur and techno's annoying younger brother?" From upperclassmen who knew them. He was sick of it. sick of the shadow he constantly lived under.

That was before though. Now, he is usually met by stares, people turning to whisper to their friends, which almost disgusted Tommy more. He hated pity more than anything else. He was fine, but everyone treated him like he was so.. fragile. he balled up his fists by his face now

The bell rang and he was shooed off to his class by a coach. Tommy pushed himself to his feet, pulling his backpack up onto his shoulders in one smooth motion.

Chapter Text

He trudged through the crowd of people to get to the gym. He liked the class because Tubbo was in it. He didn't get to talk to Tubbo very much anymore since he had met Ranboo, but Ranboo wasn't in this class, so Tommy had him all to himself. As soon as he pushed through the door, he shrugged his bookbag off into the bleachers and picked up his pace, hurrying over to Tubbo, who was already doing his laps around the gym.

“Hey tubbo! I was thinking- you know that bridge that what’s his name-” Tommy was quickly cut off by Tubbo. “If this is some ghost shit, I don’t wanna hear it. You know I don’t mess with.. that stuff.” He kept jogging.

Tommy looked down, watching both of their feet against the wood flooring. “Just this once? I mean- you never do stuff with me anymore after you got with Ranboo and.. It's just once!” he whines.

“Then go with Ranboo, he likes the same weird ghost shit as you.” Tubbo huffs, pushing his hair back. This shuts Tommy up pretty quickly. Ranboo. “The cooler version of me, my fucking replacement.” he cursed under his breath, but tubbo lifted his head. “What?”

“What?” Tommy responded, shoving his hands in his pockets. He looked over at tubbo. “I didn’t say anything.” the two of them start to slow down as they finish their laps.

After class, Tommy pulled on his headphones and stared down at the pavement. He only looks up when a tall figure approaches his side. Ranboo. “Tommy, I- I’m sorry for- what happened to Wilbur, if you ever need to talk man-.”

Tommy pulled off his headphones, looking up at ranboo’s face, to which ranboo averted his gaze. “What?” Tommy stopped walking, several people bumped into him as he did. Ranboo stopped too. “What happened to Will?” Horror quickly struck over Ranboo’s face. “You.. shouldn’t hear this from me. Call your dad.” Tommy’s hands were shaky and his face was completely pale. Ranboo grabbed his shoulder and pulled him out of the traffic of students walking to class. He ushered them off to the nearest bathroom, and into the large stall. Usually Ranboo was very cautious of using it, since he wasn’t disabled, but he was sure the two wheelchair students who attended would understand.

Tommy couldn’t quite retain the information his father gave him, as both of them were in a state of shock and… panic. However, he understood this: On the drive this morning to school, a road closed, and they had to go over the memorial highway. Wilbur lost control of the car. Wilbur and Techno hadn’t made it to school that morning, and Tommy didn’t even notice. He couldn’t cry. He couldn’t think. He could barely feel Ranboo’s arms around him. He always told them “Everyone always thinks it’s the bridge- it’s never the bridge- They lose control before that and then the bridge collapses with the out of control car, im telling you.” but Wilbur had never believed him, and Techno especially didn’t. Tommy blinked and the call was over, and he had no idea how long he had been in the bathroom with Ranboo wrapped around him. He blinked again and he was in Ranboo’s car. It felt so prolonged yet so short at the same time.

He was in the hospital waiting room. The lights were too bright and the air sounded too sharp. Ranboo’s phone started going off and he hurried to shut it up, fumbling around his pockets, before answering the phone and giving Tommy a sympathetic “be right back” look. The pity made his stomach churn. He could see Ranboo moving his hands around, talking to somebody on the phone through the glass hospital doors. He shut his eyes as hard as he could and shoved his hands as far down as he could in his hoodie pockets, closing his body in on itself. He felt like a child, he hated it, but he couldn’t stop himself from shutting down like this. Phil came out, clearly disheveled, saying words like “coma” in reference to Techno. This only freaked Tommy out more.

A nurse gently approached the two of them. “You guys can come in and visit.”