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Tommy doesn't want to wait.
He doesn't want to wait until Dream throws him permission to visit L'manberg as a pity gift. He doesn't want to wait for Dream to "consider" his request. He doesn't want to wait until his "maybe" - a "no" - turns into an "of course".
Dream will not allow him to return to L'manberg. They both know that.
Tommy doesn't want to obey and play by Dream's rules. He doesn't want to wait for a "miracle". He wants to go back now, because the pain of the compass needle pointing at L'manberg - at Tubbo - is getting worse and worse.
He can't pretend that longing isn't burning a hole in him, and that the presence of Ghostbur and other rare visitors from L'manberg is enough.
Tommy doesn't want to be bound by the chains of his last life, doesn't want to dance to Dream's tune and give him everything he wants just to live another useless day in exile.
So when Tommy deceives Dream, he clearly feels that he is signing his own death sentence. Tommy wants to die by his own rules, so he puts a sweeping signature on the contract with Death.
It's hot in the nether, but for some reason it's very cold for him. Tommy's hands do not obey and tremble.
Broken portal gave him more time. He doesn't look back as he runs, doesn't look where he puts his feet, so a couple of times he almost falls into the once-coveted lava.
Tommy hears him behind as the world begins to float in purple.
Before his eyes - only the running arrow of the compass in his hands and blurring familiar places when he leaves the portal and finds himself on familiar lands and roads. L'manberg is now one murky, uninteresting spot.
At some point, along with the compass needle, he stops. Tommy thinks that he is about to lose consciousness.
Tubbo stood under the lanterns, his eyes fixed on Tommy's silhouette. The days that passed in exile now seem even longer.
Tommy doesn't say anything. In a few steps, he covers the remaining distance and pulls Tubbo to him, confident that he will not be pushed away.
As Tubbo's hands frantically grip the back of his t-shirt, Tommy can finally take a breath and close his eyes. Nothing hurts anymore. Sorrow coiled obediently at his feet like a dog.
Tommy feels safe when Tubbo calls his name softly. He's finally home. Tubbo's arms feel like home.
The water runs softly under L'manberg's planks, Tubbo says something to him in an undertone, and clings to the torn shirt so tightly that Tommy is sure he was missed.
Even though his fingers are getting cold and it's getting harder to stand, and the blood on his tongue feels like metal, the standing tears in Tubbo's eyes hurt him a lot more than an arrow driven into his back.
Tommy coughs up blood, collapsing on the wooden floor with Tubbo. Memories of the festival come to mind. Memories of Tubbo's execution. Memories of his best friend's blood on his hands. Tommy feels tears on his skin. He doesn't know if this wound will ever heal.
Tommy wants to look at his best friend again, make sure that he's okay, but his head still rests on L'manberg president's shoulder. He doesn't think about anything while Tubbo tries to save him.
Death does not frighten, he did everything as he wanted.
"Why?.." Tubbo asks, and that's the only thing Tommy can hear in the deafening silence that surrounds him.
The tone of Tubbo’s voice makes his heart ache. The compass on his neck makes Tommy happy.
"I had to see you again."