Chapter Text
Tommy was having a nightmare. This much, he knew . He knew the world around him wasn’t real, yet the bleak dreamscape didn’t feel any less unsettling as a memory of his old body wandered through a narrow tunnel.
He found himself in a cramped room with chests and signs he couldn’t bother reading. There was movement all around him, warped voices in his ears, but his focus was fixed onto the button in the middle of the chamber. His body moved on its own, and despite how desperately the ghost wanted to run away, he reached out and pressed it, harsh light filling the room as blurry figures rushed in from a newfound opening on the wall. A flash of searing pain spread across his body, and Tommy was forced to watch in silence as blood soaked the ground and a deep feeling of betrayal struck him in the heart.
He shut his eyes and let out a guttural scream, bracing himself to be hit by one of the axes or swords carelessly cutting through the air.
However, the pain never came. Instead, he felt two hands shaking his shoulders, dragging him back to reality.
Someone was standing beside him, their words drowned out by the deafening cries still echoing in his mind. His instincts acted immediately, driving him to scramble away from the intruder and attempt to hide away in one of the corners of his dreary apartment.
Shivers racked his spine as the thump of panicked footsteps rang out through the empty room—away from him. Even as silence engulfed the room once more, he found it impossible to stop the tremors shaking his ghostly form.
Down with the revolution, boys!
We — we trusted you!
It was never meant t —
“ —ommy? Tommy, can you hear me? Oh god, oh no… Tommy, I’m gonna need you to take a deep breath, ok ?” The blond could barely hear the panicked voice above the buzzing in his ears, his uneven breaths only speeding up with the desperate tone it had taken on. “ Crap, okay, nevermind. God, this better work… ”
Tommy’s head shot up as a familiar tune cut through the noise in his ears, gently settling within his hollow chest. The melody was… bright. Bright in a way Tommy couldn’t begin to describe. It made him think of blue coats and freshly-baked bread. It made him think of freedom and safety.
Tommy didn’t know he could think of such things.
But his shoulders had stopped shaking, and he was finally able to see that the figure looming nearby wasn’t there to hurt him at all. Ranboo slumped down in relief as he noticed the fear had mostly drained from the ghost’s icy grey eyes.
“Oh thank god, you’re ok,” Ranboo breathed, wiping the tears in his eyes before they could overflow onto his scarred face. “Nightmare, huh?”
Tommy hummed quietly, giving a curt nod as he took in all of his surroundings. His eyes caught on the other’s face, and he quietly pointed to the half-enderman’s scars. “Are you hurt?”
“Oh, um, no… these—I get these from crying,” he chuckled awkwardly, running a finger across the rough skin tracing his cheeks. “I’m—it’s genetic. Don’t worry, though! These are pretty old, they just got a bit… irritated, recently.”
Ranboo didn’t meet his eyes, but Tommy could see through the poorly concealed truth. He may have been a ghost, but he was still smart enough to figure out it was his fault Ranboo was hurting.
“Guess we’re matching, then, ay?” He smiled sadly, pointing to his own scarred face. Angry red lines trailed down from his eyes, an ever-present reminder of his agony embedded on his face for everyone to see—for everyone to pity . He trailed off, mumbling mostly to himself. “I reckon I got these with my death. They were always clear in—in exile. Every day, I’d see them, but now they’re… different. I don’t know if they’re better this way, or if it’s just another thing wrong with me.”
His head shot up and he met Ranboo’s teary gaze with his wide eyes. “Wait, forget I said that. Alright, memory boy? You didn’t hear shit.” Only Ranboo seemed to register Tommy’s subconscious use of his old nickname, though he stopped himself from bringing it up. Somehow, the dam seemed to shrink down, just a little. Tommy didn’t notice. “And stop crying, coward, you’ll irritate your fuckin ugly face.”
At least he cares? Ranboo thought as he took a deep breath to compose himself. “Alrighty, then? Um, I’ve gotta go run some errands today, and I know you’re just now getting settled in, so I totally get if you want to stay here, but I also kinda don’t wanna leave you alone , but—”
“Can I go with you?” Tommy cut off Ranboo’s mumbling, hugging his arms around himself. A part of him wanted to lock himself in a dark room for the rest of… however long he’d be there for. However, the other urged him to accompany Ranboo, shivering at just the thought of being alone again.
“I—yeah! Of course!” He beamed, turning to open the door and motioning for the ghost to follow.
“So I was thinking we could eat spaghetti for lunch, what do you think?”
“Do you even know how to cook?”
“ Nope! ”
Tommy and I went out to the beach again today. He said he likes swimming, but I couldn’t bear to go into the water with him, even with my armor. He said it reminded him of… freedom. Hope. I’m not sure what that means, but I think… I think he might be getting better.
He’s more comfortable now. Whenever he’s inside, he always plays music or talks — to me or to himself. It’s been… nice. A bit sad that the person I trust the most is a depressed ghost, but still. I think he can recover. Every now and then, he’ll even remember some things we did together, and I think I know what makes him remember. He still hasn’t talked to anyone else, yet, but I’m coming up with a plan to —
Ranboo nearly dropped his quill as he heard a choked sob echo from the ground beneath his home. He rushed down the stairs, barely stopping himself from breaking down the door to Tommy’s room to see what was wrong. Instead, he quietly opened it with a soft knock to let him know he was coming in.
“Tommy? You okay in here?” He walked in to find the large windows had been covered by large quilts and an assortment of sheets, blocking out every ray of sunlight that would have otherwise lit the room. Tommy himself was pressed tightly into a corner, curled up to hide his face and the tears that ran across it.
“ Go away ,” he sniffed, voice muffled by his arms. Ranboo sat down at the opposite side of the room, trying to map out his words.
“Wanna talk about it, or do you just need company?”
“ Talk about what? I have nothing to say .”
“Well, whatever’s wrong. What’s bothering you? Or you—you know, we could just talk about something else, if that helps.” Ranboo was met with silence, so he looked over to find two dull eyes boring into his soul. The eye contact made him shrink away, but he did his best to meet his gaze with as much sincerity as he could show through his expression. Tommy immediately broke, shoulders sagging in defeat.
“That’s… that’s the problem . Nothing’s wrong . You’ve been so kind and I’m—I’m almost happy . You’ve been kind, and I’ve been happy, and I’m terrified, Ranboo!” Tommy’s voice steadily crescendoed, and he barely noticed his molten tears burning holes into the floor. “I’m terrified that I’ll wake up and—and forget it all! That I’ll go back to being miserable, to having nothing to cling to, that I’ll go back to the v̴̲̇̽o̸͙̯̔͝ǐ̷̲͇ḋ̴͙̪͒ . I don’t wanna forget, please , I can’t forget again,” he sobbed.
Ranboo was too taken aback to move for a minute, simply watching Tommy’s shaking shoulders in stunned silence.
I can’t forget again.
WHY CAN’T I REMEMBER?
I’m terrified that I’ll wake up and — and forget it all!
I need to write this down. I need to remember.
He knew that feeling.
He knew that feeling .
Ranboo numbly wrapped his arms around the crying ghost, his skin protesting against the heat radiating off of the other. His netherite armor shielded him from the boiling tears splashing onto his shoulder, but even the burning of his flesh wouldn’t have pained him as much as the devastating cries tearing the ghost’s throat.
“Listen, Tommy,” he rasped, reaching over to where he’d dropped his book. “I—I know I can’t pinpoint exactly how you feel, but… I—I get it. You know I struggle with my memory, right?”
Being met only with a hesitant nod, he continued, “Well, for a long time, I felt the same way. I—I was constantly scared and confused, and it… frustrated me to be missing pieces that I should have had. Anyways, I eventually figured out that if I could have something to track my memory, I’d never forget anything again…”
“Did… did it work?” Tommy was looking at him with so much hope in his eyes, that Ranboo couldn’t help the small smile that etched its way onto his face.
“Well, I use it every day, so I guess it must.” Ranboo hesitated for a second before gingerly handing him the book, trusting Tommy enough to not tamper with it. “You… you could write your own if you want. It helped me, so maybe… maybe it could help you, too.”
“I… yeah, I’d like to give it a try…” Ranboo gave him a reassuring smile and reached over to a chest to get him an empty book. He reached into his coat and pulled out a fluffy quill.
“This is my backup quill for if I lose mine, but I never really need it, so… uh, here you go? You’ll never run out of ink, but just make sure it doesn’t snap or anything.” Tommy nodded and opened the book to the first page, scribbling something before quickly flipping to the next and writing a large title in thick, shaky letters.
As if sensing Ranboo’s mounting curiosity, Tommy explained, “I reckon I’ll divide them. Make it easier for myself if I need to remember the good things. This first section is just for the bad ones. When I’m done writing out the main points, I’ll… I’ll start with the good ones. And I’ll—I’ll never forget. I won’t forget .”
He gave a determined nod and Ranboo shot back a small smile, slowly getting up to stretch. “What’s with the quilts, by the way?”
“Oh, I—I dunno. I guess I knew how to sew?” Tommy looked up from his furious scribbling, wincing at the memory of the blinding lights pouring through the glass walls. “It was…it was too bright—too overwhelming, so I… I made makeshift curtains out of some scraps of fabric I found. Don’t—don’t worry, though, I didn’t steal them from you .”
“Did—did you steal them from someone el —actually. I don’t wanna know. I’m. I’m just gonna go. Yeah,” Tommy stifled a chuckle as Ranboo smiled and opened the door to leave.
“Oi, Ranboo?” Tommy called out just before he headed out. He looked down at the new book in his hands and smiled, finding the simple expression somehow easier the longer he was around the other.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“It’s—it’s no problem, man,” Ranboo gave him a bright smile, quickly walking away towards the community house, encouraged by Tommy’s progress once more.
As he walked across the bridge and up the spiral staircase, he was met by a circle of people crowded around a small table. The citizens of the Dream SMP looked back at him and waited for him to speak.
“Hi, um, you may be wondering why I called this meeting.” A few gave a quiet nod, and Ranboo took it as his cue to continue. “It—it’s about Tommy.”
The people who hadn’t met his gaze suddenly gave him his full attention. Yeah, that’s fair, he thought.
“Ok, well, I’d like to preface this by saying… I didn’t know him as long as all of you did. Soon after I met him, he… he was exiled. I didn’t know him for very long, nor did I know him very well, but… I like to think we were friends. I knew him so briefly before, yet it feels like I’ve been walking through quicksand since I heard of his death. I’m sure some of you have felt the same.” Tubbo buried his head in his trembling hands, poorly concealing his tears. It was all Ranboo could do to keep talking without succumbing to his sorrow.
“Tommy can walk the prime path in New L’Manberg, but he’s still not there . Not fully, at least. And I’ve talked to his ghost a lot in these past few days, and it’s… he’s kind, even in death. But , right now, he’s still just reliving and remembering the terrible things he went through. He sees no future for himself—only the shadows of his past.”
“ Well, what can we even fuckin do now, mate? ” Phil snapped, breaking the silence the others seemed to maintain. He sounded angry, though Ranboo thought he heard some despair in his tone.
“He’s not too far gone—not yet. We know he can get his memories back, and I think I may know how. Look… I know we’re all looking for that second chance. We didn’t do anything before. We stood by and we let this happen.” Though he spoke the words with himself in mind—thinking of all the times he ignored the glaring signs in exile—they seemed to cut deep for a few others. At least he had their attention. It was most important they listened to what he had to say next. “ He can still recover . I think we can get him back. And…”
He looked out onto the blood-red sunset and the crowd of pleading eyes focused on him, and Ranboo vowed to himself that he wouldn’t give up.
“Well, I have a plan.”