Chapter Text
Alone.
He'd always be alone— it was a given at this point. He only had Dream and even then it wasn't enough.
Tommy let his eyes glance down at the clouds below him. It had been a peaceful day. Drista visited. They had fun.
Tommy had fun.
Now, though, he stood at the edge of a cliff. It wasn't far from Logsted, but far enough to where he couldn't see the beach. The party that no one had come to.
The hell that no one dared to visit.
The boy looked down, and sniffed the air. It was colder the higher he went. Colder. Colder.
Tommy shivered. He took a breath and smiled lightly. He readied himself and leaped.
As he fell, he felt feathers wrap themselves around his face, and the boy fell slowly, his back facing the ground, and let the wings protect him.
They lifted, and Tommy felt free. He flew.
Theseus was flying.
The feathers were so warm. Dream was not. Dream was cold, he was unpredictable and intimidating. He was scary.
He was Tommy's friend. He didn't feel like a friend at the moment. He was quiet. He was quiet but so loud. His quietness was so loud.
Tommy grabbed as many maps as he could— Tubbo. He needed to get those maps of Tubbo. He retreated once the TNT went off. Clawing at dirt to climb out of the hole and be safe, he covered his ears as it blew up.
The noise was so loud. Thoughts of the first war flooded his head. How someone shot him—ten paces, fire. A room, a betrayal. More TNT went off and the festival went off in his head, blossoming into more memories. He could see Tubbo, clear as day in his head, leaning in that box, limp. Revoke citizenship. He remembered a ravine.
More TNT. He clamped his ears shut and cowered in the corner, facing away from all the noise, desperation clawing at his insides to get away, to be safe , and he cried out. He watched in his head as L'manburg was destroyed—pummeled by withers and a simple button.
The loud noise slowly faded.
Dream lowered his crossbow and let his eyes stare Tommy down. Feathers covered him, covered the maps he protected. Dream watched as Tommy pulled himself out of the hole, gasping out apologies as much as he can, sputtering and climbing to ground level.
Those wings.
He held the maps close to him and soon stashed them away—somewhere safe. It wasn't all safe, just his backpack, but it felt safer than clutching them with hopeless hands.
Dream made bruises before. He always had since the first disc war. But this time, Tommy knew these bruises would be permanent. His breathing hitched and quickened and slowed and repeated, no rhythm in him, as he watched the dotted eyes and smile on that mask come closer to him.
"Tommy."
There's silence from both of them and Dream is right in front of Tommy, a hand on his shoulder.
"Tommy, I won't ask for your things. I've done what I wanted to this place," Dream told, and glanced at Tommy's back.
"But not yet to you."
Before Tommy could understand, he was being pulled and dragged harshly to the beach. He was slammed to the ground, his head hitting water and sand being sent into his eyes.
He gasped for air and was pushed down farther into the water, desperately trying to keep his breath steady as his head was forced underwater.
Dream pulled him up and Tommy was coughing up a fit, tears on his face as he pleads with Dream to let him go, to stop.
Dream wasn't done yet.
He grabbed Tommy's neck, leaving bruises, and forced him to turn around, and placed his hands on Tommy's wings, around the middle where most feathers were.
"They're so white, Tommy. And soft. I've seen you fly around here with them." Dream said lightly.
The boy felt hands grip those wings and cried out.
"Too bad you won't be having them anymore."
There's a yank, and a pull, and a boy screaming.
It was like his nerves were being shot, or stabbed, or burned in lava. It was like breaking a nail. He couldn't move away, he couldn't stumble or crawl. It was slow. It was so unbearably slow.
Dream used his time to his advantage. He had nowhere to go for a while and could use all the time he wanted to teach Tommy a lesson. He slowly tore the wings, picking at the feathers with one hand while he pulled at the middle with no resist or mercy.
He let Tommy suffer for hours.
Hours of screaming, screaming, so much screaming, which turned into hoarse yells, and soon hopeless cries. There was no use in asking Dream to stop. He wouldn't stop until Tommy begged for death.
And that's what he did. He begged for hours, through his screams and crying, he asked to die. He begged for it. There was only slow and educated chaos.
Dream scoffed and stopped ripping. Tommy only had just a little bit of what he previously had, just small, bloodied feathers protruding from his back while the pure white wings were now dark and red, resting in Dream's hands.
"We're still friends, Tommy. You did something that hurt me, and you needed to be taught not to do that. Tubbo would've let you off without punishment, Tommy. I could have just killed you."
He walked around Tommy's who was now on the ground, stifled crying buried into the ground. Dream kneeled down to meet Tommy's face as he forced him to look at the masked man.
"I'll come back in a week or two. I hope you learn from this. Don't fucking disobey me again." With that, the man harshly dropped the boy's face into the ground, and broke the nether portal as he boated away silently.
His wings were the only thing keeping him sane. He'd fly at the end of every day, at sunset, to feel that freeing feeling once before he went to sleep.
Tommy watched through the sand as the only one who was there for him leave. He forced his arm to reach for the boat, but it was already at the horizon.
Now, as the sun set, Tommy laid there, tears brimming at his eyes and sand sticking to his clothes.
"Please... Don't leave me here..." A broken voice pleaded. "My wings..."
He let his arm fall as he lost consciousness, his back throbbing in pain.
He'd never fly again.