Chapter Text
Even from inside, the cold air of Snowchester had Tommy tugging several layers of blankets over his shoulders. Despite the biting cold, though, he didn’t particularly dislike it; it felt like home, like safety and mugs full of hot drinks to warm his hands. That wasn’t to say he had wanted to be there either, though. Tubbo had made him walk the whole way to the little commune so he couldn’t “go fuck up his bones some more”.
His friend had ordered him to stay put until his ribs were healed (which Tommy personally took as meaning he didn’t feel like crying each time he took too deep of a breath).
Apparently ‘staying put’ meant not leaving the little cabin, which Tommy had learned when he tried wandering around the area and was quickly ushered back inside. His boredom, however, got the best of him and he eventually tried to sneak out. Which is what got him here, glaring daggers at Ranboo who was on ‘babysitting duty’, as Tubbo had put it.
Tommy had long since given up on trying to make Ranboo let him leave, because it seems like the guy only had a spine when someone's 'physical wellbeing’ was involved. Though it could have also been the threats Tubbo had strewn at the older teen if he so much as considered any of Tommy’s bribes.
Now, Tommy had never particularly minded being inside, but recently sitting in silence led his thoughts to less than savory places. Bad memories he did his best to block out completely. In fact, it was currently beginning to go to those places yet again. Sure, the pain from breaking his ribs had left him pretty shaken, but more so had the lovely little revelation Tubbo had left him with on that day.
It just wouldn’t leave his head. He had found himself awkwardly craning to see his back in the mirror far more than once since his arrival in Snowchester. But no matter how many times he saw the scar, he couldn’t help but second guess himself and wonder if it was really real or not. Tubbo told him it was, and sure that had to amount to something, Tommy knew his friend wouldn’t just lie to him like that. Dream had.
Tubbo also wasn’t there though. He didn’t know the first thing about what happened in exile, and Tommy still wasn’t inclined to tell him quite yet. Partially because he wasn’t sure what parts of it had actually happened and what his mind had just made up. He needed to be sure on what was real and what wasn’t, before he felt confident enough to tell anyone about it. The only flaw with that though, was how scared he was to face it by himself.
He wasn’t a baby, he could handle himself just fine, but thinking about exile left him feeling sick and shaky, all he would want to do was hide from the world for a month. He just wished that someone knew , even the smallest bit. He had gone over it in his head a thousand times, just who had visited him, even once. Sam, Fundy, Quackity, Bad, Lazar, Jack, Ranboo- wait .
Ranboo had visited him, and not just once, like nearly everyone else. Ranboo not only visited, but also wrote him letters, gave him advice and not to mention, he was the first one who Tommy had actually told about anything that had happened. If there was anyone in the world who knew anything about exile, it would have been Ranboo. And he had also told Tommy plenty of times if he ever needed to talk…
“Hey Ranboo?” Tommy called, getting the ender hybrid's attention almost immediately, and regretting it instantly. Still though, he was a big man, he wasn’t just going to back out of asking a simple fucking question just because it made his stomach churn and left his hands feeling clammy. “Do you remember anything about… exile?”
Ranboo’s ear flicked, and he looked uneasy. “Yeah. Um, we sent letters back and forth. One day, you just… stopped.”
“Oh, uh, sorry about that then, I guess.” Tommy bit at the inside of his cheek. “But I meant like, do you remember anything that happened back then. Not the letters, but did you ever, I dunno, see anything?”
“You were… you were bruised some of the time. You looked really tired. It made sense with your letters, you said how bad Dream was, but… I dunno, it was still really concerning. Why do you ask?”
Tommy took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, but it only made him wince in pain. He pushed through the small bout of pain before Ranboo could verbally express any concern though. “When I fell off the hotel, Tubbo saw something. And I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around whether it's actually real or not, because Dream always said it wasn’t but Tubbo keeps on insisting that it is. I just don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“I can look, if you want?” Ranboo offered. “If you need someone to make sure. I have no reason to lie. I don’t even know what the ‘something’ is.”
“Well there’s this- fuck.” Tommy buried his face in his hands. “There’s a scar on my back? I think? I don’t know.”
“Okay. I can check.” Ranboo’s voice was gentle, almost unbearably so.
"Right, if it's actually... It should be pretty obvious which one."
He slipped off his sweater, and the sharp intake of breath he heard from behind him was enough to know that it was real. “T- Tommy…”
"So then I guess it's really there then, huh?" The short nod he got when he looked at Ranboo let him know that yes, it was. "Fuck man. I just don't get it, why did he lie about it? What was the point? Why'd he have to make my mind all fucked up like this, I've seen it, and I still have a hard time believing it's actually there."
“I- I don’t know why…” Ranboo breathed. “Why would he ever- why would he hurt you like that?”
Tommy shrugged. “‘Cause I fucked up? I couldn't seem to do anything right, but he really didn’t like it when I tried to hide things. Even if I didn’t mean to.”
“No, that- he did that to you for hiding things?” Ranboo sounded downright horrified. “Everyone deserves privacy! And even when it was a mistake?”
Tommy couldn’t stop the small flinch, he knew, full well Ranboo would never hurt him. He didn’t think the guy was capable of it, his body didn’t seem to get the memo yet though. “I mean, it wasn’t that bad, I don’t think. He was nice too, if I was good. I- he said he was helping me get better, since I always wind up messing shit up and dragging everyone into my problems.”
The ender hybrid’s breath hitched. “That- no. No, no, Tommy. Is that why you stopped messaging me? Because I’m happier hearing from you, even if it’s bad news, than having you suffer in silence. That’s not healthy, what he did to you.”
“Even if I fucked up? Even if I- if I deserved it?” He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for, because no matter the answer, Tommy was certain it would leave him in shambles. He was already on the edge of his breaking point as it was.
“You didn’t deserve it!” Ranboo’s ears were pinned back as he came into Tommy’s view. The ender hybrid made eye contact, which took Tommy’s breath away. Eye contact was rare for any creature from the End. It was rare, a sign of trust. Without trust and honesty, the gesture would be downright painful for the hybrid.
“Tommy- Tommy, look me in the eyes. You didn’t deserve that. Not for any reason.”
Tommy didn’t even bother trying to stop the tears when they welled up. That was it, for the second time that week, he let himself cry, despite knowing once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. “I don't get it, he was supposed to be my friend, he told me he was my friend. Why did he hurt me? Was there even a point, if I didn’t deserve it, then why?”
“He wasn’t a friend, Tommy,” Ranboo murmured. “He- he was a monster. And I’m so, so sorry you had to deal with that alone.” The hybrid tentatively put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, looking ready to pull back at any sign of discomfort.
Tommy huffed out a humorless laugh. “He really was, wasn’t he?”
Ranboo nodded solemnly. “And… I know we’re not… the closest… but I want to help you see what true friendship is like, if you’ll let me.”
“Yeah,” Tommy leaned forward, until his forehead was resting on Ranboo’s shoulder. “I think I can manage that.”
Ranboo rested his hands on Tommy’s back. It was comforting. Unlike Tubbo’s tight, clinging hugs, Ranboo’s was loose and reassuring, enough to be there but not enough to feel restricting. He was simply allowed to be.
And that was freeing.
---
Despite what one might think, Pandora's Vault was actually quite warm. Sure, the obsidian had a tendency to sap up all the heat, but the lava and redstone that ran through the very core of the building kept it from turning into some kind of hellish ice box. Sam might even call it cozy, if not for who was being held at the very heart of the building.
The person he would be looking right at, if not for the thick wall of lava separating them. He had his four thick, lion-like legs tucked underneath him, arms crossed as he spoke.
“You know Dream, I still don’t get it; why try and kill them? They’ve hardly done anything wrong, and nothing they can’t still learn from. I mean, they’re kids, why put them through that? Why let yourself fall that low?”
Dream laughed, the sound like ice on the other side of the barrier. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“And why’s that? Explain it to me Dream, you'd be surprised at just how much I actually might get. But there’s not even a chance of it if I don’t know what your motives were.”
“I only wanted to get Tubbo out of the way. I would never kill Tommy. Well-” the prisoner laughed again. “Not without a way to get him back.” It was a non-answer, and it only served to confuse and annoy Sam.
“Why just Tubbo? As far as I’m aware, he never even challenged you, not without prompting. What makes Tommy so…” Sam tried to find the right way to word it. “Special? Why can't you leave them alone?”
“He’s fun.” Sam could hear the crooked grin in Dream’s voice.
“Fun? Dream, I’ve hardly even spent a couple of weeks with him, and I can already see just how bad his mental state is. You can’t actually tell me you find it fun to screw with someone who’s already been through so much.”
“You haven’t seen it. He breaks so easily. Prime, for someone with so much fire, it wasn’t hard to douse the flame. A little challenge, sure, but it’s a hell of a rush knowing how easily I control the ‘free spirit’ of the server.” Dream sounded sickeningly pleased with himself. It made Sam want to march in the cell and grab him by the throat.
“What the hell are you talking about?” The question left the taste of bile on his tongue, but Sam asked it anyway. “What did you do?”
“You don’t even want to know, Sam. You’ve always had a soft spot. Think of it as a type of mercy that I’m not telling you.”
“You seemed awfully proud of yourself just a moment ago. I think it’s you trying to save your own skin, because you’re scared of what I’ll do if I find out.” With that, Sam turned, not even waiting for an answer. “Not that it really matters, I can just ask Tommy myself.”
“Take a message to him from me, will you? Ask how the scar on his back’s healing.” It seemed innocent, but the way he said it unnerved Sam. It followed him, echoing around in his head even as he locked up the prison.
He needed to find Tommy.
---
Finally, finally for the first time in what felt like months (though it couldn’t have been more than around two weeks) Tubbo had given him the clear to go outside. Tommy had still been told not to do anything too strenuous, but that didn’t matter . The fresh air felt so nice and Tommy could swear he tasted it- actually, that was probably the salty ocean spray getting caught in the wind. It was actually kinda gross, but in a weirdly nice way.
He had to be careful standing out on the strange stone brick docks so as to not slip on the sleek ice, but that was fine. Tommy didn’t feel up to doing anything more than walking quite yet. It was nice, leaning on the short railings and staring out into the vast expanse of the ocean.
The sound of waves crashing on the shore had become something of a comfort to him, probably because it was just about the only thing that could lull him to sleep in exile. He was snapped out of the sea filled trance when a voice called out to him.
“Tommy! There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” Sam waved to grab his attention, quickly growing closer.
“Sam, big man, it’s been a while!” Tommy laughed, walking over to greet the man. “Tubbo’s had me under house arrest for the last few weeks since he seems to think I can’t take care of myself, even got Ranboo in on it.”
Tommy could tell Sam was smiling, even under his mask. “What did you do this time?”
He reached up to nervously scratch at the back of his head, a guilty look crossing his face. “I may or may not have fallen… From the third story of the hotel?”
“You what?!” Sam asked in disbelief.
“It’s not my fault! I really thought I could make that jump, but the beams are deceptively slippery! We should really invest in some less slippery beams.” Tommy brought a hand to his chin thoughtfully. “But really, it wasn’t even that bad, just a couple of broken ribs and they’re all healed up now. Nothing to worry about.”
“Broken- Tommy!” The green, centaur-like hybrid scolded. His tasseled tail flicked back and forth. “You really need to be more careful.”
Tommy rolled his eyes. “You all worry too much. Nothing could ever get me down for long, especially not some measly bones.”
“Those ‘measly bones’ could have killed you if any fragments of your rib managed to puncture any of your organs and cause internal bleeding!”
“Nonsense. In fact, I have just decided, I am incapable of death.” Tommy declared. “Absolutely nothing can kill me.”
Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. “Sure.” He shifted and looked over to one of the bags slung over his green lower back. “Right. Well, I actually have some less fortunate news to share with you. Regarding Dream.”
Tommy tensed, shivers not brought on by the cold air running down his back. “What did he do-” Tommy’s eyes widened, a newfound, almost violent fear making itself at home in his chest. “He didn’t get out, did he?”
Sam shook his head quickly. “No, no, not that. He’s still locked up tight. No, he just said some concerning things regarding you. He said he wanted to relay a message, but I’m not sure I trust it.”
“What did he say?” Tommy said the words slowly, looking at Sam with unease. Although it was nice to know Dream hadn’t gotten out, the rest of what Sam said didn’t help to quell Tommy’s nerves.
“Are you sure you want to hear? It could be some sort of code meant to threaten you. I don’t want to cause you any kind of distress.”
Tommy scowled up at the man, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not a baby, I can handle whatever Dream says. It’s not like he can actually do anything from in there.”
“He asked how the scar on your back is healing.”
Tommy felt the world sway, and he reached out to grab ahold of the railing to steady himself, bringing a hand up to his mouth feeling just the slightest bit queasy. “He said that?”
Sam plodded closer, reaching a hand out to Tommy. “He did… Tommy, are you okay? Are you alright? Do you need help? I can take you back to Tubbo’s house, if you need.”
Tommy waved Sam off, shaking his head. “I’m fine, I can walk by myself.” He was quickly proven wrong when after just two steps his legs gave out and he felt himself sprawling towards the hard stone bricks.
Sam caught him just before he fell. The creeper centaur herded Tommy onto his fluffy green back. “It’s okay. It’s alright. I can help. You don’t need to do it alone.”
Tommy just grumbled as he was hoisted up, puffing out his cheeks in annoyance. “I’m getting really tired of all of this shit. It’s embarrassing as hell, just the other day I cried like a toddler in Ranboo’s arms.”
Sam hummed understandingly. “It’s not embarrassing to need help. There are plenty of people who need a little more than others. That doesn’t make them childish.”
“I guess,” Tommy sagged forward until his cheek was resting on the back of Sam’s shoulder. “But I still feel like a baby.”
“Believe me, you’ve gone through far too much to be considered a baby. Even if you are still a child.” Tommy could feel Sam’s quiet, rumbling laugh.
Tommy batted at Sam’s head, making the man try to duck out of the way. “I am not a fuckin’ child, you’re just fucking old. I bet everything looks like a baby to you when you’re always squinting like a senile old man. We need to get you some glasses Sam, that can’t be good for your eyes.”
“I’m in my late twenties. That’s not old!” Sam argued, but he didn’t sound mad.
“Sam, I am in the prime of my youth. I know an old man when I see one.”
“I thought you reserved the old man jokes for Phil,” Sam teased.
“I haven’t seen Phil in forever, so I gotta use them on someone. You just happen to make yourself the perfect target.” Tommy explained.
“You’re awful,” Sam snorted. The hybrid sat down abruptly the moment he was through the door. The motion jarred Tommy, but it only served as an extension of the banter. He didn’t request Tommy get off immediately as he usually would, just curled his legs underneath him and turned to Tommy. “You feeling okay now?”
Tommy nodded. “I think so, yeah. World just got a little bit spinny there for a minute, must have breathed in too much of that sweet, sweet ocean air. Salt can really affect the brain, you know?”
“I don’t think salty air does that. Tommy, are you really okay? What did Dream mean by… what he said?” Concern gleamed in Sam’s eyes.
“Honestly?” Tommy ran a hand through his hair, letting out a huff. “I don’t know. If I’m okay or not, I mean, I- I know what Dream meant.”
Sam’s tail flicked back and forth in what Tommy assumed was worry. “Do you want to tell me?”
“I- he- I know what he meant, but I don’t think I really understand. He always said it wasn’t there, and now he’s asking about it?” Tommy shrugged. “At least he doesn’t think I’m too stupid to realize that shit, I guess.”
The creeper centaur was silent for a long moment. “Dream’s a liar. I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him. He probably just wanted to cause a stir.”
Tommy lets out a small laugh. “Knowing him? Yeah. I honestly don’t know if he does it on purpose but he tends to… confuse me.”
“He probably does. Hey, in better news, though, I have something for you.” Sam’s tone lightened as he pulled something out of his inventory.
“What’s that?” Tommy leaned forward, trying to get a better view of what Sam was holding, a small inkling of excitement sparking in his chest.
He held up a blue-centered disc that Tommy recognized as Mall. “I’m pretty sure this is one you don’t have. I found it while I was caving, and I figured you’re the one that’s most passionate about discs on the server.”
Tommy held out a hand, taking the disc carefully. “Yeah, I haven’t managed to get ahold of it yet. Thanks.” He slowly stood, walking to the opposite side of the room, he looked carefully between the jukebox and the ender chest, laying right next to each other, debating which would be better to put the disc in.
“Of course. I hope you like it.”
“I do, really. I just don’t know if I should…” Tommy trailed off, making a gesture towards the jukebox.
“Go ahead. Music’s meant to be heard, isn’t it?”
“Well yeah, but every time I try to play a disc anymore I just- I don’t know, I get all shaky and shit. I can’t stop hovering over it like someone is gonna try and take it away.” Tommy’s face scrunched up. “Actually, forget I said that, it’s stupid.”
“No, no. It’s not stupid.” Sam stood again and plodded closer to Tommy. “I should have realized you’d be hesitant after the disc wars. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. Do what you want to do.”
Tommy debated it for another moment, then pulled the ender chest open, carefully placing the disc inside. “I just, I don’t think I’m ready yet. I wouldn’t mind, y’know, listening to it with you, when I am though.”
“Of course.” Sam ruffled his hair. “You know how to contact me when you are.”
Tommy smiled, then nodded. He made his way back over to lazily drape himself over Sam’s back.
Sam let out a quiet chuckle and shifted into a sitting position with his legs curled under him. “You want me to stay here?”
“Yes. Or take me with you, whichever you prefer. I just wanna take a nap.”
“I’ll stay, then. Wouldn’t want to have Tubbo and Ranboo on my case about moving you around too soon.” The words were soft and fond, despite the teasing nature behind them.
Tommy mumbled a protest that wasn’t quite audible, even to himself, and curled closer to the green fur beneath him.
(If, in a few hours, he was woken by Tubbo’s cooing to find that Sam had drifted off as well, he sure wasn’t going to mention it.)
---
Jack was confused. Truly, honestly confused. He’d dedicated his time and energy to kill Tommy, and then the kid had just apologized. As if those few words didn’t shake Jack’s entire worldview.
He’d crawled out of hell through sheer spite, only to find the person he wanted to teach a lesson to already knew the faults of his actions. It made him want to scream. But Niki had agreed that killing him was too much now, so Jack wanted to get a good understanding of what Tommy’s ideals were, just to make sure he was truly better.
Which led to him standing in front of Tommy’s door. Was the blonde even in there, or was he wasting his time? Maybe it would be best to write a note or something. Oh, well. He was already there, he might as well check.
“Oi, Tommy. You in… here…?”
Jack’s voice trailed off as he took in Tommy’s state. The kid was there, sure enough, in the process of changing his sweater. Normally, that wouldn’t catch attention; Tommy was a cis dude, after all, so he didn’t really have an issue in terms of social indecency.
What caught Jack’s eye was the massive, gnarled, red-pink scar arching along his back. It was uneven and not uniform, as if it had been traced over multiple times before. And it was in the shape of a smile .
Tommy stood frozen, like a deer in the headlights for what felt like all too long, then he began shrieking . “Get out! Get out Get out! Get the fuck out!” He began shoving Jack towards the door, a strange air of franticness about him.
Jack put his hands up, taking a startled step back. “Prime, Tommy, calm the fuck down! What the fuck was that?!”
“Doesn’t matter, none of your business, wonderful conversation we’ve had here, I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day, goodbye.” Tommy spoke all too quickly, the words getting jumbled together as he once again began pushing Jack further out the door, though nowhere near as harshly.
“You can’t just brush that off! What the hell , Tommy?! Where did you get a scar like that?!” He feared the answer, but he needed it. To thwart Tommy’s attempts at shoving him out, he grabbed the teen’s wrists and pushed him back into a position where it would be harder to herd Jack away.
Tommy sent a sharp glare. “Jack, let. go. ”
“Tell me, then!” He spat back.
“Dream.” Tommy said the name as if it could answer all the questions in the world.
“Fucking obviously. It’s a smile. How the hell is it that deep?! That’s not a war scar!” An insidious feeling crept into Jack’s chest. Dream couldn’t have… no. He wasn’t that horrible, was he? When would he even have had the time?
“Of fucking course it’s not a goddamn war scar!” Tommy hissed. “I would have gutted him myself if he so much as tried!”
“So what happened?!” Prime, trying to get answers from Tommy was like pulling teeth.
“Well, you know exile, yeah?” It was strange, how quickly Tommy’s demeanor changed, to almost sounding subdued.
“When you killed me when I went to visit you? Of course I-” Jack’s voice cut off as it sank in. Tommy had been under Dream’s custody. He had acted completely uncharacteristically in that time period. He had a scar that looked like it was carved over and over into his back.
“I did ?” Tommy asked incredulously, he sounded almost horrified. “I- I’m sorry, I… I don’t even remember that. Exile is so fuzzy I don’t know what really happened back then, but I am sorry, really, Jack.”
The taste in his mouth was so bitter now that he hardly even cared about the apology he’d wanted for so long. “No, no, hold the fuck up, what were you going to say about exile?” He begged Prime and XD for it not to be true, for him to be coming to conclusions too fast.
“Well, you see, Dream wasn’t- no, no wait, he was my- nope. No he wasn't, he was shit. Absolute capital S shit. ” It was honestly getting worrying, just how quickly Tommy seemed to be flipping back and forth. “He said he was trying to help me get better, load of shit that was, but it’s funny, because I actually believed him. Got into my head and shit, got pissy when I didn’t do everything perfectly. Usually he wouldn’t leave anything that would scar, but I guess hiding things, even if it’s a damn accident, means that can be thrown out the window!” Tommy let out a hysterical laugh.
Jack felt sick. His stomach churned at the implications. Fuck what he’d assumed, fuck the haze of rage he’d spent so long staring through, this was what was real. What he’d been missing the entire time. Tommy wasn’t as bad as Dream; he was victimized by Dream. “You- you’re kidding-”
“I wish I was. I really, really wish I was.” Tommy was shaking, fuck, was he crying?
Prime, he wasn’t prepared for this. He had a bad time even calming crying kids down, how was he supposed to deal with a teenager having a mental breakdown. He let go of Tommy’s wrists quickly and patted the blonde awkwardly on the shoulder. “Shit- shit, uh… It’s okay?”
Tommy let out a broken laugh that sounded halfway like a sob. “Prime, you are horrible at this, man.” It didn’t hold the usual bite Tommy always had; it was by far the weakest jab the blond had ever given to him.
“I know !” Jack wasn’t even embarrassed about the fact. “Niki’s the one that’s good at this kind of shit! Prime, just- have some bread or something!” He handed one of Niki’s loaves to Tommy. She offered baked goods to sad people, didn’t she? Bread was close enough, in his opinion.
“Yeah, she is.” A solemn look crossed over Tommy’s face. “I miss her, haven’t seen her since we almost got hit by that nuke.”
Jack sucked a breath in, suddenly feeling very awkward. “Uh, yeah. That very accidental nuke. Anyways, maybe I can get her over here sometime?”
“Would you? I’ve tried, but I have no clue where to find her.” Tommy shrugged.
“We’ve kept in contact. She’s made an underground place for herself. I’ll tell her to visit.” Jack latched onto the conversation topic, because it seemed to be calming Tommy down.
“Underground, huh? That’s… nice.” The way Tommy said it made it sound like he thought quite the opposite, but he continued on before Jack could ask why. “Thank you though, really. For whatever this was.” He made a vague gesture, laughing shortly.
“I’m the best at comforting people. Better than Niki, actually. I don’t know what you mean.”
Tommy smirked and lightly punched Jack in the arm. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that, man.”
Maybe Jack had been caught up in his hatred. Maybe he’d been short-sighted. But he could only thank the gods that he was seeing it now, before it was too late.
---
There weren’t many places Tommy particularly disliked on the server, so few that he could name them on one hand. Logsted, the remains of L’Manburg, Pogtopia. Pandora’s Vault was making itself mark pretty high on that list, though. Tommy always felt uneasy walking down the halls, even with Sam’s constant presence at his side, it felt like the walls were shrinking, closing in all around him and the halls looked to stretch out for an eternity.
The journey was coming to an end though, but Tommy found himself dreading the destination. The curtain of lava was all that stood between him and the person who had hurt him so, so much. He heard Sam tell him to stay on the platform and keep near the front so he couldn’t fall as easily when it moved. Then the lava began to fall.
He could see him, just standing there. He didn’t look threatening, but his mere presence made Tommy shiver. Tommy didn’t back away though, holding his ground when the platform began to move. It only took a few seconds to cross the gap, but each one felt agonizingly long. Dream didn’t speak until Tommy was on the other side, opting to instead wait and stare. Tommy glared.
“Hey, dickhead.”
“Hello, Tommy. I was wondering when you were going to visit again.” The mask over the man’s eyes was cracked, though it didn’t show much but more of his skin.
Tommy’s eyes flitted about the cell. “Nice place you’ve got here.”
“It gets a bit boring. Sam took away my clock.” Dream sighed. He sounded so human , it unnerved Tommy.
“Well, do you really need a clock?” Tommy shrugged. “I mean, you’ve got no reason to worry about the time, you’ve got a lot to spare now that you’re in here.”
Dream tsked. “Tommy, that isn’t exactly fair, is it? I can at least imagine. Without a clock, I don’t know how much time has passed. I can’t even make tally marks on the walls because of the mining fatigue.”
“You don’t exactly deserve fair, though, with all the shit you’ve done."
“You can’t really mean that, can you? We were friends. You’re the one who condemned me to this fate, even though I took care of you!”
“You hurt me!” Tommy bristled. “In what fucking world does that translate to ‘taking care’ of someone?!”
“I was the only one that visited you. I provided some shelter, food, and I helped to fix you.” Dream grinned. “You haven’t forgotten, have you?”
“Of course not. I remember everything you did for me, but I also remember everything you did to me.”
“Oh come on, Tommy. You’re making a big deal out of nothing. I had very simple rules. When you broke them, you got punished. I didn’t kill you. I didn’t even restrict your freedom! Anyone was free to visit, you could go to any of the surrounding areas, you could even go to the Nether! As long as I knew, it was fine. Stop comparing your punishment to being trapped in this tiny, hot room with nothing to do but write or spin a clock that’s not even here anymore!” Dream snapped.
Tommy flinched, taking a few steps back, then he straightened. He was getting off track, this wasn’t why he was here, to fight over the logistics of whether Dream actually needed a clock in a windowless cell or not. “Why did you lie?”
“Lie? You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“I mean about the scar! What was even the point of saying it wasn’t there? Why make me feel like I’m fucking crazy, seeing it for months? I honest to god believed you, for so fucking long!”
Dream tilted his head. “I never said it wasn’t there. What are you talking about?”
Tommy’s face scrunched up in confusion. “What? No, no you did. I remember you telling me that the healing pots would cover it, that it wasn’t even deep enough to scar.”
“I thought so, but after the first few times, it was. Tommy, I think you’re remembering things wrong. I never denied it was there when it actually was.”
“I never asked after the first few times though, because I thought you’d just tell me the same thing!”
“You did once, and I told you the truth. You’re making me out to be a worse person than I am.”
“Stop trying to justify the fact that you hurt me!” Tommy did his best to ignore how his voice cracked. “I’m not even asking for an apology at this point, I just want you to admit it!”
“I gave you a punishment that was clearly outlined after the first time. You knew. It wasn’t because I wanted to hurt you, it was just because you didn’t learn any other way,” Dream said coolly.
“Why did you have to know everything I did so badly?” It was a genuine question, and Tommy did his best to keep any hints of sarcasm or snark out of his voice so it couldn’t be misinterpreted.
“Because how else was I supposed to know that you weren’t doing something you weren’t supposed to? Obviously, I’m the only one that’s ever tried to fix your behavior.”
“I mean, I guess that makes sense.” Tommy pulled his arms closer around himself, it wasn’t even cold, but he still felt chilled. “Not like it even matters though, does it? I’ve done what I can, to be better and I have people who’re helping me now- actually helping me.”
“They’re only helping because I fixed you, however slightly,” Dream hissed.
“Fixed me? You ruined me! You broke me down until I was nothing!” Tommy’s voice broke and his eyes started to burn. Fuck, he couldn’t cry, not here, not in front of him.
“And yet, people like you now. Now that you know how to be quiet, how to shut up, how to listen to orders, they tolerate you. How would that ever have happened if you weren’t fixed?”
"I don't-" Tommy cut himself off, because that was at least a little bit true, wasn't it? Everyone had been tolerating him up until now. Hell, he killed Jack for crying out loud! And yet somehow the guy had found it in himself to accept Tommy's apology. "Do you really think I'm better now?"
“You could be better, but you actually listen now. If you hadn’t run away, you’d be everyone’s favorite person. People would like you more than just for show. I’m sure they’re all spending time with you because they pity you. Now that you’ve learned to shut up, it’s not unbearable.”
"So what? Nobody liked me before? Or did I just screw that up too somehow?" Tommy couldn't stop the bitterness from seeping into his tone.
“They realized how much of a child you are. You got old, Tommy. You got boring. Everyone is expected to grow up eventually, and you didn’t. I was the only one that cared enough to fix you.” Dream’s voice was cool and calm, and it made Tommy want to cry.
“Why?” Tommy’s voice cracked yet again, and ah fuck, here come the tears. “Why bother? You had to have realized now that I can’t be fixed, Dream! You tried, it didn’t work, no matter how good I wanted to be I just couldn’t .”
“And yet, you started to improve.” Dream’s hands pulled Tommy close, and it felt so paralyzing, so, so wrong. Dream shouldn’t be doing this. Dream shouldn’t be the one comforting Tommy, he only hurt. And yet, who else was there? “Believe me, Tommy. If anyone can fix you, it’s me. I’m your friend, remember?”
“Promise?” He couldn’t help but hope, as much as it hurt, that maybe, just maybe Dream really did care about him.
“Of course,” Dream crooned, stroking his fingers through Tommy’s hair.
Tommy leaned into the touch, just a little bit. He wanted to believe it, he wanted to so, so badly, but that little voice in the back of his head was screaming at him, this was wrong. He would ignore it for now though, just live in ignorance for a little longer. He knew Puffy would scold him for it later, for letting Dream get into his head again, but for now, that was okay. “Thank you.”
And yet, the sinking feeling didn’t go away, even as he leaned closer to Dream and tried to block out the voice. His head was spinning uncomfortably, he was so tired , the world was shaking-
Wait, what? That part wasn’t in his head. He went rigid at the sound of explosions. Dream simply looked up, not seeming too concerned. His fingers were still threaded in Tommy’s hair.
Tommy pulled back, looking around and it finally registered, the shaking, the rumble that only seemed to grow louder as time went on; explosions. “What- what the hell? What’s going on?”
“Sounds like someone’s bombing the prison.”
"What?!” Tommy couldn’t stop the panic from choking him. “Won’t that like- Wouldn’t we get caught in it? It’s too close!”
“The prison walls are impenetrable with TNT. Don’t worry. And I know the security protocols. This just means that you’ll have to stay here for a few days. It’ll be fun. And it’ll certainly fill the silence.” Dream smiled, as if Tommy’s world hadn’t just crumbled in front of him.
Tommy pulled his arms around himself. “I’m going to be stuck in here?” He didn’t want to be here in the first place, now he was going to have to spend days locked in the same cell as Dream? He wasn’t sure if he could do it, he was already falling apart at the seams within a few minutes of speaking to the man. All the places he had carefully stitched himself back together would be sure to have unraveled by the end of this.
“It’s going to be fun,” Dream said with a grin. “Look on the bright side, Tommy. You’re going to be with a friend. That’s better than being alone, isn’t it? We’re already getting along so well!”
“Yeah…” Now he really was shaking. The walls were getting smaller, too close, it was almost suffocating, getting too hard to breath. He could just barely hear himself taking shallow gasps over the ringing in his ears. It was getting to be too much all too fast. He felt dizzy.
Dream’s smiling mask loomed over him. It always did.
And when he died not even a week later at Dream’s hands, he wished he could say he was surprised.
---
Revival. Such a simple word, and yet, it was Wilbur’s savior. He relished the sun on his skin, the wind in his hair, every second away from that train platform. He felt like a child again, filled with a sense of wonder for life that he hadn’t had for decades.
Of course, the ghost made it more complicated. He’d talked it out with Phil, but he couldn’t seem to get rid of the transparent version of himself. It was a little awkward, and frankly, he wished Ghostbur had just taken his place, but a ghost haunting only him was a small price to pay for being alive again.
Prime, Dream was a goddamn saint for this one.
“We should go see Tommy. He hasn’t been around much, I want to see how he’s doing,” Ghostbur piped up from beside him. Normally, Wilbur would get annoyed and snap at the other version of himself, but he was in a good mood.
“Hell, why not?” He wasn’t opposed to seeing his little brother (technically, they weren’t actually brothers, but neither of them gave a shit). Ghostbur was right, it had been a while.
So, with a plan in mind, he set out for Tommy’s little hobbit hole. On his way, he lit a cigarette and took a deep inhale of it. Prime , he’d missed being alive.
You whisper to TommyInnit: im outside
There was a loud crash from inside, followed by a long string of cursing, then the door swung open with a loud creak to reveal Tommy standing there, glaring. “Could you maybe give a guy a little more notice before showing up?”
Wilbur blew out some smoke and grinned at Tommy. “It was a spontaneous decision. In the end, isn’t that what life’s about?”
Tommy rolled his eyes, stepping aside to let the two of them in. “Having those big epiphanies now, I see. How’s new life been treating you so far?”
“Fucking great, Tommy. And that’s not sarcastic either. After more than a fucking decade, man… it’s great to be back.” He moved to step inside, but Ghostbur protested.
“Wait, put out the cigarette first! Tommy doesn’t like smoke!”
Wilbur wanted to bite back with some remark about Ghostbur not being his mother, but Tommy was already looking at him. Oh, well. The kid could deal with a little smoke. It wouldn’t kill him. He strolled through the door.
“Well that’s good to hear, I guess. Anything in particular that made you want to suddenly stop by, or is it your newfound spontaneity?” Tommy said the word with a slightly mocking lilt.
In retaliation, Wilbur blew smoke in his face. “Spontaneity, motherfucker! I get to keep my secrets.”
Tommy waved a hand in front of his face, coughing. “God, you’re a fucking prick.”
“Call it what you want, I call it enjoying life to the fullest. ‘Sides, you don’t get to judge me, you dramatic gremlin.” Wilbur ruffled Tommy’s hair. “You’ve seen Limbo. You know why I’m glad to be back from that hellhole.”
“Yeah, also means you should understand how sensitive a guy's lungs can be after that shit.” Tommy walked over to one of the shoddy windows and heaved it open. “A little bit of fresh air won't kill you, you know.”
“It won’t,” Wilbur conceded, taking a drag of his cigarette. “But it’s funny to see your reaction.”
Tommy tensed for a moment, the brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Whatever, just… What the fuck do you want, man? This is my house, you know I can just kick you out, right?”
“I’m wounded you would imply you don’t like my presence here.” Wilbur sat back on Tommy’s bed, intentionally laying so it would be harder to get him off and out. “Can’t I talk to my little brother? We’ve grown so distant, Tommy! We haven’t talked in close to three days!”
“That’s really not that long, Wilbur. You were in limbo for years. ”
“All the more reason to cherish the time I have! What’ve you been up to, anyways? You were never the type to hide in your house for days on end. You’ve gotta be working on something part-time.”
“He’s changed since you were here. You might want to stop pressing him. It’s been tough-”
Wilbur cut the ghost off, effectively signaling his avoidance “C’mon, you never visit Paradise or the Ranvan anymore! There’s gotta be a reason.”
“Well maybe it’s because you won’t stop talking about Dream.” Tommy hissed the name like it was something vile.
“And why shouldn’t I? Hell, you know as much as me that he’s a fucking hero! He pulled me out of Limbo, he pulled both of us out of Limbo! And he’s in prison, for no fucking reason! Of course I’m gonna talk about him!”
“He fucking murdered me, Wil! I don’t give a fuck if he brought me back!”
“It was probably a fucking mistake, calm down.” Wilbur rolled his eyes and puffed out a bit more smoke. “He brought you back, didn’t he? It’s not like he intentionally tortured you. What the fuck do you have against him?”
“He didn’t intentionally-? Wil, do you have any idea what exile was?!”
“A punishment for you burning shit down that you weren’t supposed to?” Wilbur crossed his arms.
“Ask literally anyone and they’ll tell you the shit he did to me was too cruel to be any sort of reasonable ‘punishment’!”
“Well then, enlighten me, Tommy.” Wilbur gestured with the hand holding the ever-shortening cigarette.
“He hit me.” Tommy began, ducking his head down. “He hit me a whole fuckin’ lot and made me blow up all things every day. Told me that would make me ‘better’ somehow.”
Wilbur felt something dark and lurking creep into his chest. Tommy had to be overdramatizing it. He had to. And yet…
“He- he did? ” Beside him, Ghostbur looked horrified. “No, no, I never saw that! They were friends, weren’t they? ”
“I, uh, heard that you were friends, though. Is that really true, or are you just making shit up because you had a bad split? Because Tommy, that’s not something that’s okay to lie about. Even I draw the line somewhere.”
“Oh what, you want fucking proof ?” Tommy hissed. “Because I have a great fucking example.”
Wilbur raised an eyebrow. “Go ahead, then.” Beside him, Ghostbur looked distraught.
Tommy reached behind himself, then began pulling his sweater up until it was over his shoulder and turned around so his back faced both Wilbur and his ghostly counterpart. “See? I’m not lying.”
The sight there was fucking gruesome. Wilbur wasn’t prepared for the deep, nearly maroon scars on his back, in the shape of a smile. Even though all his other scars seemed years old (a feature that came with revival), it seemed like this one was doomed to never fade. He felt sick. Ghostbur put his hands over his mouth, seeming somehow even more haunted.
“What the fuck?” The words were all Wilbur could muster.
Tommy snorted. “Pretty fucking ugly, innit?”
“N- no- what? Dream did that?!” Wilbur didn’t even realize he was staring until the cigarette burned his fingers. It had gotten too short in the timespan of he and Tommy’s conversation. Numbly, he put it out.
“That he did.” Tommy nodded, letting his sweater fall back into place and turning around. “Dream’s not a good person, man. It took a whole lot of everyone telling me that for me to realize it though and that was when I already had the scar.”
“No, no, but I was there! How could I have let that happen, why didn’t I see?!” Ghostbur sobbed beside him. Despite himself, Wilbur felt bad for the ghost.
“Did anyone else know? During exile? How did he get away with that?!”
“Because no one was there, he made sure of it.” Tommy shrugged, saying it as though it should have been obvious.
The same man who’d revived Wilbur hurt his brother. Tommy had outright admitted it was like torture. Prime, Wilbur had almost forgotten what burning rage felt like. Until now, at least. Because the simmering feeling was rapidly growing in his chest.
He was so conflicted, he wanted to scream. “What the fuck did he do?” The question came out a lot lower and more furious than he’d meant it to be, judging by Tommy’s flinch.
“W-well, I wasn’t exactly allowed to leave? At least, I don’t think so. It was never said, but given how many times he showed up when I was staying with Techno…” He trailed off, letting the implications hang high in the air. “Not to mention, I always had to say when someone visited, and usually that meant talking about nearly every detail of what we did, if he wasn’t around to see it at least. There were also the messages with Ranboo... ” Tommy cringed. Clearly that memory wasn’t a very good one.
Wilbur had to physically stop himself from spitting out a curse aimed at Dream. His teeth were clenched tight. “And what did he do if you didn’t do what he wanted?”
Tommy gestured vaguely at his back. “That.”
He clenched his fists tight, shaking with the effort of keeping calm. He was about ready to take Dream’s final life. Nobody hurt his little brother.
“Alivebur, stop, you’re scaring him!”
Wilbur looked up, pulled from his thoughts. Sure enough, Tommy was staring at him, wide eyed. The blonde’s muscles were tensed, as if he was ready to bolt at any second.
Tommy let out a choked noise that sounded half like whimper. “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
Shit. Wilbur quickly untensed his muscles and put his hands up in a calming gesture, which made Tommy flinch back, as if expecting to be hit. If Wilbur were any more emotional, he would have broken into tears at the sight.
“Shit- Tommy, I’m not going to hurt you. I didn't mean to make it seem like I did.”
Tommy blinked a couple times, looking slightly dazed. “You’re n- No, of course you wouldn’t. I know that, I- fuck me, man.” He buried his face in his hands. “I was really starting to think I could talk about this shit without freaking out.”
Wilbur didn’t even know how to respond. He was so caught up in his own pounding heart that he couldn’t fathom a response.
“What are you waiting for? Comfort him! He needs it!” Ghostbur urged.
He threaded a hand through Tommy’s hair gently. “I’m sorry. For everything. For not being there, for taking the wrong way out, for blaming you and making you scared. I’m sorry.”
Tommy looked up at Wilbur, then nearly barreled him over with a hug. It startled the brunette at first, but it was nice to feel, even if the circumstances weren’t as good as he hoped.
“Just please,” Prime, his voice sounded so small. “Promise you’ll never do it again.”
“I promise,” Wilbur murmured.
For his brother? He would promise the world.
---
Tommy sighed, surrounded by pieces of crumpled paper. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to get this right; it would never see the light of day after its completion, but it just felt too… important .
He lifted the quill and dipped it in ink for what felt like the hundredth time that day, then placed it to the paper in front of him.
‘Dear Dream,
I think I’m done thinking about you, now. I’ve spent so many days and sleepless nights trying to untangle all of the little threads you wrapped me in, trying to make my thoughts mine again, and while I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop, I do think I’m ready to let go of all the shit you did.
That’s not to say I forgive you either, I know I’ll never be able to do that. But I also know that you’ll never apologize for it, or even begin to think of it as wrong. Which is fine, I can’t force you to do anything, nor do I plan on it. However I don’t need to care about that anymore, you’re stuck in an obsidian box where you can never hurt me again and I’m not stupid enough to get close enough to let you anymore.
This is usually the part where someone would say “I wish you the best” or some bullshit like that, but I don’t. I hope you fucking rot.
Goodbye, Dream, fuck you.
-TommyInnit’
He stared at it, for a moment, looking over the words. While it wasn’t his best work yet, it would have to do. Dream didn’t deserve his best anyways.
With that, he stood, stretching for a moment to get the ache of sitting over a desk for hours to dissipate. Then he took the letter, folding it as neatly as he could manage and walked over to the furnace in the corner of the room. He tossed the piece of paper in, watching as caught ablaze with something akin to fascination, slowly crumbling into nothing but ash.
“Burn in hell, you fuck.”