You felt sick, utterly helpless and numb, out of your physical body in itself for what felt like the longest. There was a pain ripping your heart out of your chest slowly, letting it bleed out to be nothing but a hollow shell before taking it all together.

You went home, changed your clothes, got your shovel out of your storage shed and went out near the river with shaky limbs, you dug the grave, made a bench, found his disks and put down a music player.

Tommy had died, under your watch, and everything hurt, it hurt so much, he was gone. Gone under your watch, and you couldn’t fix it, you couldn’t….

You changed Tommy into the nicest clothes you could find, his favorite colors and his disks in his hands with some flowers, he looked far too peaceful. You wrapped an old L’manburg flag behind his head as a pillow and put his and Tubbo’s scar on his wrist in a gentle knot.

You put him down in the ground, closing the casket and buried the dirt over him, when you went back inside techno was in your house, blinking up, not saying anything. Just watching you for a moment. “I heard about Tommy.” He said finally.