Chapter Text
Some nights were worse than others if he's being honest.
Not saying he had any good nights anymore. Or days. Nothing good has happened to him lately really. With day who-knows-what of exile, Dream constantly harassing him after every simple breath along with destroying his things at every opportunity, having to pretend everything is fine so the man wouldn't do something worse was starting to seriously wear him down.
It's fine. He can do this.
..Right?
……….
Right.
After the third nightmare of the night- (Fire. So much fire and the explosions were so close and Tommy couldn't breathe- Where was Tubbo? Where was everyone he thought this was over why is this happening why can't we just be done with all of this- Why did you do it Will what went wrong why did everything have to become so fucking wrong-) and seeing no chance of resting anytime soon,Tommy decided to give up on sleeping and rose from his makeshift bed with a tired sigh; swinging his legs around so that he could sit cross legged.
Stretching his arms behind him Tommy yawns, scrunching up his nose in distaste when he's done. Rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands he tries to wake himself up more and forget his dreams. Pointedly ignoring the leather jacket hanging in the far corner of his so-called "Home".
Giving in he glances over and gets lost in thought as he stares blankly at the 2 flag patches on the arm of the jacket. He stands and walks towards it slowly, gently tracing each stitch on one of the patches with his fingers.
The first flag of L'Manberg.
Tommy can vaguely remember when Wilbur stitched the flag onto his coat, it was just before he-
...Just before he detonated the TNT and destroyed L'Manberg.
With a small frown Tommy picks up the jacket and keeps looking at it, trying and failing to fight off the same doubts and ebbs of betrayal he's been feeling for weeks now.
It's been nearly 2 weeks and Ghostbur still hadn't come back to visit him.
He'd left to go see Phil and hadn't come back, taking some of his "Blue" and notebooks with him.
Tommy stopped hoping he'd reappear after week 1.
He wanted nothing more but to march his way back to L'Manberg and ask him what the hell his problem was but for many obvious reasons that wasn't a good idea. Ghostbur wasn't his Wilbur anymore, his Wilbur was dead (Da- Philza stabbed him- why did he stab his son, why did he have to kill Wilby- ) Plus it wouldn't do much good to yell at an amnesiac ghost.
A ghost of the brother whom he trusted with his life, who was practically his best friend. Someone who he trusted almost as much as Tubbo.
"But look where that trust got you in the end." A tired, hurt part of his heart whispered. "Abandoned by everyone you've ever known, thrown away to live in a dirt hut like an old rusted toy no one wants to deal with anymore."
Shaking his head to disperse his thoughts Tommy gently sets the jacket back down and trudges over to a nearby chest, deciding to focus on making breakfast to distract himself. He grabs some chicken he still had left over from the failed Beach Party and some Flint so he can start a fire. Walking outside he squints at the rising sun, glancing around to make sure there are no mobs still around despite the growing heat of the morning.
While waiting for the chicken to cook Tommy's thoughts kept drifting to the jacket in his tent, and ideas started to form.
Why should he stay here? He has nothing left. No one to miss him. I mean clearly they don't miss him, not even Dream has stopped by to torment him. Then again the last time Dream had stopped by for a "chat" he had mentioned something about everyone preparing for some sort of celebration.
The more Tommy thought about the benefits of leaving, the more hope started to shine in his once dull eyes. He had a purpose again. He was gonna leave this hell hole even if it killed him and no one was going stop him.
Quickly standing up he grabs his now nearly burnt chicken and paces while he cools it off, thoughts racing as he works on a mental list of what he was going to nneed. Perking up from a sudden idea he runs into his tent and digs in Ghostbur's chest, grabbing one of the many blank notebooks he left behind; quickly jotting down what he can take with and a basic check list of what he can do once he leaves so he can have somewhat of a plan.
SUPPLIES/TO DO LIST-
- Food (not much left, will need to hunt while on the run)
- Sword (netherite, managed to hide it from D cuz I'm awesome)
- Notebook (can't leave this list behind that'd be dumb-)
- Build Boat (use logs from Logstedshire?)
- Build armour (Leather will have to do for now-)
- Get some tools
- Cover tracks as best as possible (Fake Death??)
Smirking to himself he moves onto a new page, practically buzzing with excitement at this point as his plan starts to feel more and more within his grasp.
TO DO LIST AFTER FREEDOM-
- Travel as far as possible, don't stop unless necessary
- Become farmer? A knight? (Doesn't matter right this second, worry about getting away first)
- Let Tubbo know you're alive (send letter?)
It was on the last thing on the list that he hesitated. Should he bother? I mean sure, he still cared for Tubbo despite the betrayal and he'd been thinking over things alot and had come to the conclusion that he had messed up as well during the whole fiasco leading to his banishment; but did that mean he could forgive Tubbo for sending him away?
He glanced at the chest where the compass Ghostbur gave him was, gently taking it out with a small sad smile.
Finally deciding no, it wouldn't be a good idea, because someone could use the letter to track him down, Tommy stuffed the compass in his pocket and decided to get to work on checking things off the list. Standing up straight after finishing his list, he turns, his eyes settling on Alivebur's old leather jacket.
Walking over, Tommy brings it with him out of the tent and puts it on- ignoring the fact it was slightly too big for him. Feeling a smirk worm it's way onto his face he rolls up the coat sleeves with a determined look and stands tall.
It's time to get to work.
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After several hours of hard work Tommy had some food gathered, functional tools and armour, The Notebook and his Netherite Sword, and a boat ready to go.
Now came his next challenge- covering his tracks.
He could blow up Logstedshire, the problem is he didn't have any TNT- Maybe track down a creeper and get it to follow him? Yeah that could work. That would give him some kind of reason piled on top of his other reasons to "die" atleast.
Barely 20 minutes later, if anyone was around they'd see a 16 year old lanky teenager dodging around trees as not one but 2 creepers chase him down- Narrowly escaping injury as they explode near him once he has them in the middle of Logsted.
Panting softly he takes a break, looking at the charred remains of his old home with a mix of elation and slight fear stirring in his chest.
It was nearly over.
Opening his inventory Tommy grabs a stack of stone and moves to the nearby beach. After taking off his coat and hopping up onto a small hill of sand he slowly builds a tower up, eventually sitting high above the island nearly to the clouds. It was now or never.
Taking several deep breaths to calm himself he looks over towards the horizon, letting a gentle smile over take his face as he thinks of the future.
Glancing a little warily at the ground below he sighs shakily and closes his eyes so he can psych himself up.
"You're nearly there innit. You're nearly free-" he murmurs, clenching his fists and eventually opening his eyes with a new look of determination and stony resolve. Not giving himself any more time to doubt he jumps, landing safely in the water nearby.
Scrambling up to the surface he gasps for air, laughing shakily as he swims to his boat and pulls himself aboard. Giving himself a moment to recover he let's himself dry in the sun while he double checks his supplies he packed in the boat before his jump. Once he feels he's dry enough he pulls Alivebur's - no his leather jacket back on and firmly grips the oars, making sure to point his boat in the right direction.
With a small pat to the pocket holding the compass and a mind dizzy with emotions and hopeful plans for the future he sets off.
Time to take the world by storm.