Tubbo POV:
"HEY MAN!" I overheard Tommy shout from behind my lockers door. As I closed it his face rushed in front of mine
"Hey" I returned finally having all my books. As I slowly began walking towards class.
It was at a fast enough pace that I wouldn't be late but slow enough for Tommy to keep up
"I have this plan" he began but before I let him finish I interjected with a quick "no".
As I looked at Tommy his expression seemed almost offended "what!" He asked
"Tommy your plans always result in pain and suffering" I half joked. I meant what I said. But it was never truly bad. It just normally made me feel uncomfortable.
You see Tommy's plans always meant 'hey my parents are out this weekend and I want to throw a party and you have to help because your my best friend' and i'd always say yes.
So to counter this I just don't let him talk about it.
"Well this ones going to be different. Because.... Drumroll please...
I've hired a band!" Tommy's face was full of pride.
Like he'd just been knighted by the queen or something.
"And I'm sure they're great. But I don't do parties.
And I don't have a good experience with bands" I warned
"What do you mean! You have the best experience with bands!"
"That's what you think. And don't remind me"
Tommy took a minute of blissful silence before catching up to me once again "well listen. They're a relaxing band. Nothing like the ender-"
"Shut up!" I shouted before apologising
"I need to get to class" I finished
"I know Tubbo. We're in the same class" he laughed.
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The class went as smoothly as can be expected. Trying my hardest not to be asked anything but when inevitably asked using only the shortest of answers. As soon as it was over I dashed out the room and to my quiet place.
After my little...panic attack even I came back to school the board let me have my own classroom during lunches, breaks and free periods. It was nice to be on there.
It was also a safe spot to put my things during class that I wouldn't put in my locker. Like my phone or my coat. Or most specifically my new guitar.
No one knew about my guitar playing, not even my parents. And even though I vowed to never do or see anything involving music or bands. I held on to the guitar playing.
It felt different, it was harder to teach myself then to have have a professional teach me. But it felt more rewarding when I nailed a note, or learned a new chord.
And after a long day of hellish learning. I was forced to walk back to my humble abode, to be tortured more with chores and housework.
It was my punishment for running away.
