I've lost the passion that comes with living (since I started university)

Lack of brain-power, lack of white blood cells to fend it off, lack of the full biology at all to even be considered affected by it even though Tommy clearly had been affected by it, judging by the pile of bones in the living room of a mountain house.

Letting go for that mere second, for the virus to take over and rid you of the burden of having to think, of feeling, of seeing and everything else that came with life… something you could be aware of and not aware of all the same.

It sounded right up Tubbo’s alley.

or: Tommy was dead, again, and Tubbo wasn't doing too hot.