Hey Ya know, ypu'd think there would be more fics about Tibbett and Crope- they're so much fun and then so tragic. Dissapointing. Hmm. Well, for any one else who agrees with me, here's a sad little one-shot that takes place the morning after the Philosophy Club escipade.
"Tibbett?" Crope shook his friend's shoulder to wake him, but he didn't move. "Tibbett, are you gonna be ok?" He sat gently down on the bed and smoothed some hair out of his friend's face. Slowly his eyes fluttered open and after a second where these green orbs scanned the room, he gasped and sat bolt upright.
"Shh," Crope soothed. But it did no good. Tibbett was staring straight ahead of him, breathing heavily. His body shook uncontrollably. "Tibbett," Crope pleaded, putting a hand on Tibbett's cheek and leaning in to kiss him.
Tibbett pulled away very suddenly and looked, horrified, at Crope. "Don't touch me!" he breathed, his voice full of panic.
"Tibbett?"
"You heard me." He was trembling so violently that the bed shook beneath Crope. His eyes held a fiery madness. "Please don't touch me."
Then suddenly, his eyes went entirely out of focus. He began mumbling, and it was in a voice so unlike Tibbett's that it made Crope shiver. Most of the babble was incoherent, but Crope managed to catch a few words. Kumbric Witch. Unnamed. Tigers.
A moment later he seemed to snap back into reality and his eyes, which again held that frightful gleam of insanity, focused on Crope's face.
Tears stung behind Crope's eyes. He would never forgive Avric for dragging them to the Philosophy Club the night before. Seeing his best friend like this was torture.
"W-why did they d-d-do that to me, C-Crope?" Tibbett whispered pleadingly.
"I'm sorry," Crope breathed back. He put an arm around Tibbett's shoulders.
Tibbett jumped off the bed with manic speed, shrieking, "DON'T TOUCH ME!"
"Tibbett…."
"Please," Tibbett begged, backing up against the wall. "Please don't, please."
Crope's lip trembled and tears began sliding down his face. This wasn't Tibbett. Tibbett was fun, flighty, flirty. Flamboyant and sweet and amazing. He loved to kiss and fool around. And he loved Crope.
"It's just me, Tibbett!" Crope shouted, standing up but keeping his distance due to the look of horror on his best friend's face. Crope was crying now, and sobs broke his words. "Tibbett, it's me, it's Crope! I love you, I'm not going to hurt you!"
The two Queen's boys stared into each others eyes. "You'll pull through this," Crope insisted, in a quieter voice. "You will, I promise." Tibbett just looked at him, his chest heaving and his eyes shining, still pressed firmly against the wall.
"Tibbett…." Crope said soothingly. He repeated his name a few more times, quietly, and so, so gently. "Tibbett…." He reached out and put his hand on Tibbett's face.
"Please," Tibbett pleaded. But Crope refused to remove his hand. Tibbett began to cry. "Please." He sank to the floor, sliding along the wall, apparently unable to hold himself up any longer. Crope sat beside him and put both arms around him, holding him tight. Tibbett didn't struggle, but sobbed harder and whispered, "Please, please…" over and over.
"No," Crope said softly in response.
"Please let go of me…."
Crope shook his head and Tibbett's crying became uncontrollable hysterics. Crope's sobs began to flow again as well and their tears mingled on their faces. Crope reached to wipe away some of Tibbett's tears, and Tibbett all but shrieked at the contact.
"Tibbett—"
"Please stop it!" Crope ignored his wails. He'd get through. He'd bring Tibbett back. It was just shock, that was all.
And who could blame him after that incident?
Minutes passed, the only sounds in the dorm room being Tibbett's fretful cries and Crope's gentle shushing. It seemed to Crope a terribly ironic parody of their lives. It was always just them; Crope and Tibbett, Tibbett and Crope. It was as though they were the only people in existence, living in their own, wonderful world. They worked on theatre and helped Elphaba with whatever research she assigned them. They hung out with their friends and had fun with them. But at the end of the day it was still just them, caring about nothing and no one but each other and themselves. And now they sat here, on the floor of the dorm, and it was still just them, and no one else existed or mattered. But yet it was not them, for it was not Tibbett. And without Tibbett, Crope was not Crope. And their world wasn't wonderful, but terrible and frightening.
Slowly Tibbett's shouts waned, but Crope could tell by his face that it was not out of comfort, but merely the realization that Crope would not let go no matter how he wailed. Tibbett began shaking again, and Crope could feel his every muscle twitch so awfully against him and held him tighter, his tears falling into Tibbett's light hair, wishing he could take the suffering away.
Eventually Tibbett fell into a fitful slumber in Crope's arms. His face contorted and he whimpered and pleaded in an incomprehensible mumbling. Crope wondered what he was seeing as he slept, trapped in his nightmares.
"I love you, my Tibbett," Crope said, smoothing Tibbett's hair off of his fluttering eyelids and kissing his forehead tenderly. "Come back to me." Tibbett's lips stopped moving for a moment and Crope kissed them, leaving a teardrop on his face. "Please."
Reviews are peachy. If I get enough I MIGHT (please note the might) turn this into a full-lenght story or, more likely, write a few more random Tibbett/Crope related scenes and one-chapter fics and put them all together, because I have ideas for them, my favorite minor characters, but not much time in which to write these ideas out. Anyways, thanks for reading