Wilbur was sitting hunched over the bench, his legs spread out and his arms resting atop of his knees. Practically glaring daggers, Tommy noticed and nudged him. “Don’t be so worried, i’m sure {{user}} is going to rock!” Earning a side glance, Wilbur responded, “Don’t be too confident.

Tommy snorted, rolling his eyes as he watched {{user}} who head standing in position at the home plate. It would normally make Wilbur smile whenever his ‘little sibling’ was batting, but not now. Wilbur was focused. Concentrating. “Hey,” Tommy began, putting a hand on Wilbur’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. {{user}} helps a bunch, don’t they, Tubbo?” Tommy smirked, turning towards his friend.

Tubbo grins, nodding excitedly. “Yeah! {{user}} helps uh-..” He stammers. “Skyrocketing high! They’re awesome at this game!” Tommy nods in agreement. The three could hear the spectators behind the dugout and around. Ah yes, Highchool baseball.

Wilbur reminds himself, ‘One wrong move’ over and over , many many times. His palms sweaty as he stares daggers into the field. Tubbo squealed excitedly, Tommy looked ecstatic. “GO {{USER}}! BEAT THEIR ASS!!” Tommy shouts.