and you caused it: chapter 1

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In which Niki has a terrible secret, Puffy just wants to move on, Tommy sneaks into casino parties and Wilbur learns to deal with anger being justified. Or - the one thing they don't warn you of, when dropping nuclear warheads on old friends, is fallout.

in chapter one: wilbur does his very best to be a good friend. niki continues to have issues with making apologies. a casino opening party is attended, and a few well-kept secrets find their way into the light.

wc: 9.8k (this part's the longest! you can tell i start writing out fics from their opening scenes lol)

so before getting into things, i'd like to lay out a few warnings and additional comments.

cws include: implied/referenced suicide, implied/referenced self-destructive behaviour, implied/referenced child abuse, and discussed food restriction. this is very much a fic about trying to deal with the fact that you haven't done great things and having trouble coming to terms with your mistakes and wrongdoings, and not always approaching that in a healthy way. do i still need to clarify all my fics are extremely entrenched in unreliable narrators? the viewpoint(s) of this fic most definitely are.

this fic should be considered canon-divergent from early season 3, as a direct sequel to cause most of us are bitter over someone.

apologies for some of the broken up snippet boxes. did you know tumblr has a character limit per text block? i didn't, until today.

and yes, this fic is also named after youth by daughter. i mean, come on.

with that in mind, onto the story proper.

prologue

The crater is so, so much bigger than she thought it would be. Crumbling rock stretches onward, a chasm fields larger than the pit that once was L’Manberg - easily bigger than L’Manberg ever was. Even now it yawns itself larger, stone crumbling at the edges and tumbling downward, ever downward. The crashing is muffled, the ground under her feet unsteady and yet floating, frozen, caught and crystallised in the stray second that Niki is trapped in. Every stone a diamond, the hulking and twisted mass of metal below glittering in the late afternoon sun. It sinks into her brain, thick and heavy, as she struggles to wrap her mind around what her eyes tell her she sees. This isn’t a burning tree, this isn’t dynamite - this shouldn’t even be possible. And yet somehow, somehow, they failed. She edges closer to the lip of the cliff, letting the sound of tumbling rock fade from her earshot, and stares. Just - stares. What else can she do? Bedrock peers up at her, threaded with smoking silver-grey. The air is clear up here, sky a fading blue, but the longer she looks - her eyes burn, and when she takes a breath she coughs on what tastes like gunpowder, but it burns down the rungs of her throat like it’s somehow been lit behind her tongue. Gunpowder is dry, cold - it doesn’t do that. She would know. The burning feeling raking its way into her lungs pulls her back from her vigil, and somewhere behind her she can hear Tubbo pulling Tommy back from the edge. His voice rambles on about - about radiation. Poison leeching its way into her lungs, her skin, every thread of muscle and sinew holding her together, her brain. (She’s either dizzy, or the height is giving her vertigo. She steels herself, clenches her hands into shaking fists, and tries not to drift.) And they’re all standing in the thick of it, air hot and heavy with poison. Because Tommy’s still here. She tears her eyes away from the wreckage, watches - watches him, still here, still alive, still fire-bright and bold enough to start kicking rocks around. When a cliff crumbles he bounces back, has the audacity to laugh. Jack’s eyes bore holes into the side of her head. Her stomach hurts, pulling itself apart, lining loose - oh, fuck, she’s going to be sick. She can - she can’t feel it, she shouldn’t be able to feel it, but she does. That poison seeping into her bones, settling there like silt. It reaches out with sticky hands, tearing open her stomach and burning everything it touches leaving nothing but the wet and wrong feeling of gristle inside and she takes a deep breath and squeezes her eyes shut and clamps a hand over her mouth because she’s all too aware of every toxic shift in her chest. Takes a shaky breath, feels that burn down her throat too. Her gut is twisting like something’s grabbed it, shot it through with shards of ice, but it’s just her, Jack, Tubbo and Tommy. And the pit that stretches out beneath them. There’s a hand on her shoulder, and Tubbo’s words swim past her ears like she’s been held underwater. We need to go, his voice murmurs quietly. It washes over her like rainwater, like what’s left of the stream that weaves its way into the crater and drips down like rain on the edge of a roof. We need to go, or we’ll die. Isn’t that the point? she wants to ask. It all blurs together when she blinks the water out of her eyes - the shitty canopy over their van, a tree that goes up like firewood, smoke in the back of her throat. Dynamite under her hands, dug deep into a podium. Radiation sinking into her bones. She staggers over - Tubbo is wearing something heavy and yellow, encrusted in shimmering black dust, pressing something similar into Tommy’s hands. She’s wearing - Wilbur’s coat, thin and flapping in the breeze, still smudged with ash. She can feel a draft through the tears in the back. Tommy steps away from the cliff’s edge, and her hands twitch. Hasn’t that always been the point?

☢ ☢ ☢

chapter 1

the first two scenes of this fic are actually written out, so they have been linked in their entirety below:

scene 1 - wilbur and niki, hanging out again - comfortable, reunited - as niki brews potions that she (reluctantly) reveals are to treat radiation sickness from a mishap with one of tubbo's nuclear experiments.

scene 2 - niki walks to snowchester to drop off a few potions, a peace offering. unfortunately, tommy and michael are the only ones home. it's a bit awkward. niki struggles to navigate the historically-turbulent relationship between herself and tommy.

---

after snowchester comes the afternoon syndicate meeting - insert the meeting notes, penned by the deeply-experienced ranboo_beloved.

items of note: technoblade's absence, as he is due to return from his hibernation tomorrow. phil advises ranboo and niki that techno seems to have some big ideas in mind for the syndicate upon his return, but there's no time to speculate - wilbur has advised them that las nevadas is throwing an opening party for its casino in a few nights' time, and the syndicate does not trust like that! ranboo will be representing paradise burgers and phil is pulling the "you've all called me old for too long, and i am now using it as an excuse to get out of this party i don't want to go to" card. niki, you would love to go, wouldn't you?

---

well, niki is a bit so-so on las nevadas, but to be honest - a night at a fancy party with a few friends doesn't sound so bad. so niki makes her way to the sparkling city in her glitziest red dress, and wilbur is just a little bit too excited to meet her on its front steps.

The place is bustling, fashioned for pleasure instead of business tonight - strings of lights wrap their way around slender pillars of stone on every corner, each housing sea lanterns that send shifting shades of blue and purple across the obsidian paving. The water flowing from the fountains is bright and blue, the music coming from the casino is booming, and the space needle is lit up like a lighthouse that throws the spotlight onto every partygoer who enters the city. It is sparkling, dazzling, and probably shockingly expensive. In other words, just as tacky as Niki had expected. Although maybe even sparklier. There is something about this place that is stale, artificial. There is a chill to the air despite the sand stuck in her heels, and Niki finds herself shivering as night settles over the desert - and wishing she had a shawl or something. She's wearing the same red dress as she did for the banquet months ago, knife tucked by her back, right in arm’s reach. Though even in her glitziest gown, she feels underdressed. "Wonderful, isn't it?" Wilbur, at least, seems unbothered - he’s still donning his torn trenchcoat and canary-yellow sweater, but moves through the city as if the bright lights and tall buildings fit him like a glove. “Wonderful is one word for it,” Niki murmurs. She’s never visited Las Nevadas, and tonight with its flashing nights and thrumming music seems determined to leave… an impression. A good one, or a bad one, she can’t say - although she’s certainly leaning towards the latter over the former. She thinks she can feel a headache coming on. “Oh, come on, Niki. Try to have a little fun, won’t you?” He grins, a little crooked. “A beautiful night in a beautiful city - a lot of potential, for a night like that..." Wilbur is acting strange. it’s not the locale, because he looks the same as usual and moves through the city in the same way as usual - but he is clearly planning something, and Niki hates to say it but it’s putting her on edge. Bless him, but Wilbur planning things doesn’t end well. Especially when she doesn’t see it coming.

"Alright, get over here," he interrupts her rapidly-derailing train of thought. "Your eyeliner is smudged.” Niki wrinkles her nose as Wilbur licks his thumb, and dodges an attempt to swipe it past her temple. “I’ll decline you rubbing your spit on my face,” she says, taking a step back. Wilbur pouts. “I don’t have anyone to impress here, Wil.” Certainly not. Not in the brightest, most wasteful city in the server. Wilbur presses his lips together, but he doesn’t say anything - just huffs, taking a step back with a roll of his eyes. Niki resists the urge to roll her own. He’s wired, and she’d like to pretend she’s not at least mildly suspicious, but she is. She keeps her mouth shut, though. She trusts Wilbur - despite and because of everything in equal measures. “Don’t blame me later,” is all he says. “This place is so... gaudy. I don't know how much fun you expect me to have,” Niki points out, and reaches out to fix the pins on his collar - glinting gold under the lights, one’s come detached from the point of his collar and dangles helplessly from the chain. He huffs slightly as she winds the pin out from the wool of his sweater, and fiddles with the point of his collar until it stays. “You really are starting to sound like Techno now, you know.” “He’s your brother,” Niki says, flattening out his collar. “i think that should be a compliment.” “Maybe,” Wilbur laughs, and offers her his arm. “Just - try to have fun, yeah? Don’t be stressed. It’s a party.” “It’s a reconnaissance mission.” “It's a reconnaissance mission at a party,” he says flippantly, although there’s something hiding beneath his tone. Niki trusts Wilbur, she reminds herself. “I know you’re putting some plan together again,” she says, despite herself. she just can’t piece together what he’s planning, and that worries her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he hums. “You clearly do.” Wilbur drops the act a moment - not long enough to fill her in on whatever scheme's caught his eye, but just enough for him to shoot her an encouraging smile. “You'll have a good time, Niki,” he assures her, confident. "Promise."

but oh, the party seems fine. she runs into a few friends - quackity, tubbo, ranboo (they got a babysitter for tonight), actually meets slime. tommy is there too, and they share a bit of awkward conversation, but even they are getting along finely tonight.

Tommy nods out towards the mostly-empty space in the middle of the room, some glitzy imitation of a ballroom - Ranboo and Tubbo, hand in hand, twirl around the space in a clumsy but cheerful attempt at a waltz. As they pass the bar Ranboo spins Tubbo under his outstretched arm, smiling at Quackity - the man grins back, and lets the vodka glug into his glass for a few seconds too long before tossing it back with a grimace.

niki eventually takes a small breather from the party, lingering on the sidelines to catch her breath between all of this talking - this is where wilbur finds her, the most keyed up he's been all night and insisting that niki follow him. it'll be worth her while, of course (he's done something to make things up with her, to make things properly right between them, to do something just for niki). and so niki follows to the faux-ballroom, eyes cast downward to avoid stepping on anyone's feet as wilbur eagerly ushers her through the crowd, until she almost runs into his back as he steps away and finally -

locks eyes with puffy.

who is not happy to see her.

(oh, it would be so kind of wilbur - who has noticed how lonely the niki-who-is-now is compared to the niki-who-once-was, who once had perhaps not a country but friends and a girlfriend who she could rely on. and someone as sweet and good as niki would never do something to cause a horrible, drawn-out, justified breakup.

the point is, wilbur puts niki on a pedestal. he means well. they don't even notice that he does, half the time - he thinks she is good and clever and rational and deserving of the world, and some of the time, she really is those things. she's just also an attempted murderer. and finally, it is coming back to bite both of them in the ass.)

puffy, who has been led to believe that this is some get-her-back scheme orchestrated by niki, is mildly annoyed at best. we broke up for a reason, she insists, and niki knows that.

"I can’t believe you," Puffy scowls, the expression a brash, red rose across her face. "Really, Niki?” “This wasn’t my idea!” she cries. "Guilty as charged," Wilbur mumbles - suitably abashed, he slinks over to Niki's side. She is still too shell-shocked to shoo him away. Puffy is transfixing, like that. A thousand thoughts tumble through her head, chaos - and yet, she can't bring a single other one stammering to her lips. “Well, god knows what you’re telling everyone, then!" Puffy snaps. "I don't know what kind of dumb get back together plan you're trying to pull - I don't care, Niki. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but - you're a fucking mess." The words land like a blow to the chest - Niki sucks a breath in past her teeth, bracing for the hit, before she thinks better of it. "I told you. I can't fix you, I couldn't - I couldn't just stand around and keep my eyes closed when you hurt people, Niki, I'm done with it. I told you, I'm done."

but niki has been trying. and fuck, trying has been hard. she's not going to beg that puffy takes her back - that ship has sailed - but she's not going to stand there and let herself be slandered, either.

“...I’m getting better," Niki retorts, voice small. Puffy lets go of an angry breath. “Don’t start. Don’t start.” “I have the Syndicate now!" she exclaims. "I have friends - good friends - and I started baking again, I started caring again, I started trying again, and it's - it's none of your business, either way. It's not your business!" “This started being my business when you tried to kill someone under my care - I don't know if you remember that - and then you just, just disappeared off into the wilderness about it! Fuck, have you even apologised to Tommy for all that?” And Niki goes quiet. It's more of an answer than anything she could have said in words. Puffy's glare goes thunderous, voice a loud, rumbling crash in Niki's head. “You haven’t? After exile, after all of that shit - you were in the vault with us, Niki, you heard everything that fucker said, you were there - and you haven't even fucking apologised to him?” A cold rush of - of shame, it sweeps over her, making her painfully aware of the scuffs on her dress and the acne on her chin and the abject, open anger on Puffy’s face. Puffy is no angel but she is righteous, powered by something burning bright and so scathingly good at her core, nigh-divine in her knightly fury - and despite her namesake, Niki is so very far from godhood. “It’s difficult," Niki tries. "It’s - it’s complicated.” “No, it’s fucking not!" Puffy shouts, incredulous. "You tried to kill the kid!” “Niki," Wilbur cuts in, voice quiet. Niki freezes, ice fanning down the length of her spine - she had forgotten, she had somehow forgotten, that the world existed outside of the small bubble encasing herself and Puffy. It all comes rushing back to her now, an assault on the senses - the coloured lights, the fabric of her dress settling across her neck, the uncanny sensation of a person standing at her back, the low sound of Wilbur's voice over her shoulder. "You, did you - you tried to hurt Tommy?” She is experiencing that sense of paralysis again, she dimly notices, silent - voicebox giving up the ghost. Oh, there's nothing she can say to fix this one. So the cords of her throat make no noise at all. “Yeah, go on, brag about it." Puffy waves a half-hearted hand in her direction, dismissive. "You seemed real proud of yourself this time last January.” “She’s - she’s lying, right. What the fuck." She can't see his face. She can't see him, and for some delirious moment her mind parrots if you can't see him then he can't see you, then it's not real then this never happened, he never came back you never tried to kill anyone you never he never - "Niki - Niki, she’s lying, isn’t she?” She turns, strangling the delirium silent. Niki has seen Wilbur heartbroken, desperate, dead - and yet there is another expression in his face that Niki simply cannot recognise, can't put a name to, an expression she has never seen turned onto her. “...I told you," she says weakly. "I said - I said I’d done things I wasn’t proud of - “ "Yeah, what - property damage or something, some shitty fights, I don't - I don't know," he exclaims, voice climbing in volume and incredulity. “You tried to kill him?” “I - I..." “...can you even admit it?” "Let me finish," she snaps, and he falls silent. “I - I did, I did.” Ah, there's the name for that expression. Horrified.

a crowd is forming. and it is listening.

from the crowd bursts tommy and ranboo, both in a state of panic - and as soon as tommy enters the scene, all eyes land on him.

did niki try to kill you, wilbur demands.

and tommy, he backpedals - no, we're over it, we're getting over it - it's none of your fucking business, wilbur, we sorted it out! and the lack of denial amidst it all is damning.

the argument could continue between the four of them for days, but tommy is already frantic - he cuts wilbur off, tells him ranboo is in a state of panic and can barely speak, and was using his few words to beg tommy to take him to wilbur. wilbur's not keen to drop this line of conversation at all, until ranboo babbles out the words casino, and TNT, and wilbur goes white.

you didn't, tommy says. no way you did, no fucking way -

you promised, niki chokes out, and wilbur snaps that now is not the time for her of all people to be rattling on about lies -

and the horrible story forces its way out of ranboo: yes, wilbur asked him to place a bit of TNT in the casino. a small amount! small enough that wilbur had practically forgotten. but ranboo, anxiety-ridden, felt strangely something was out of place - and discovered that somehow, they don't know how, they don't (they do know: it's the same reason excess TNT seems to appear around ranboo and prisons in droves) a few stray pieces of TNT have become an entire network, hundreds of pieces as far as they could see when they checked just now. enough to blow the casino sky-high, and easily kill every player inside.

all hell breaks loose.

tommy is furious with wilbur. wilbur is demanding why tommy didn't tell him about niki. niki is panicking. the crowd has given up on staring for now, instead focused on their escapade stampde. quackity is furious with everyone, barely keeping control of the crowd as they flood outside, as far from the building as they can get.

“Where is Tubbo?” Quackity shouts. “Tommy said he left earlier,” Niki offers quietly, and the man whips around to face her - his gaze settles on Niki, and Niki is not afraid of Quackity by any means (not in Manberg, not now), but the fire in his glare makes her stand a little straighter. “You’d better fucking hope you heard him right, Niki,” he snarls, and turns back to the crowd. “I need - “ And then, the bombs go off. It feels as if someone has taken a sword to the night that falls over Las Nevadas, splitting it open - day spills over them, a bright light that burns its way into her eyes even as she hides her face in the crook of her elbow. The ground shakes…

they make it out, but las nevadas is a wreck. fire falls from the sky, the sands glowing alight with flame, slick with melting glass. niki falls into step with the flood of evacuees, surrounded by whispers, by stares, by a crowd of nosiness and judgement that shifts awkwardly away from her when she walks beside them, pulled into puffy's tumultuous wake.

as the blast settles, the truth dawns on niki - wilbur has heard what she's done. everyone has heard what she's done. puffy has (yet again) rejected her, her peers have rejected her, even wilbur, whose friendship she fought so fucking hard to get back, has rejected her. all her work to heal - all her work, dragging her feet as she just couldn't quite spit out an apology to tommy, not a proper one - has gone up in fire and smoke. it's over.

With her arms wrapped tightly around herself, curled-up and pitiful, Niki walks away from the flaming crater that was once the city of Las Nevadas.