Work Text:
Recently, Tommy had felt the happiest he has felt in quite some time. It had been a pleasant experience to just be able to devote himself to a project without having to feel the looming threat of war. After managing to wrangle Sam into his scheme, he had started to work on his hotel. He declared that it was going to be a safe place for people who needed a relaxing location to stay. No more fighting. No more bloodshed. No more destruction. Today had been an exceptionally good day, he had proudly worked hard and managed to bring back all the materials Sam had asked for. Sam was obviously pleased with him, as he told Tommy he should go rest after all the effort he has put in. Yeah, it was definitely because he was pleased with him, not because he had noticed the prominent bags under his eyes. It definitely wasn’t because Tommy still looked agitated and anxious days after the long battle he had recently endured. No, of course not. Sam was pleased with his work, not worried about the child’s safety. Tommy obliged and headed back home, pushing away the nagging thoughts that annoyingly took up all the space in his mind.
For once, Tommy did as he said. He had come to respect Sam as Sam was one of the few adults that had treated him with sincerity. Sam was fun and kind, he wasn’t anything like- Stopping himself from continuing the thought, Tommy hurriedly made his way back to his base. Despite the concerned glances Sam had been throwing in his direction, he constantly assures the man that he was fine. He wasn’t scared anymore (in fact, he claimed to never have been scared to begin with). And he wasn’t visited by the black abyss anymore. He didn’t have nightmares anymore. He didn’t feel alone anymore. He was fine. Yeah, he was fine.
But as Tommy slipped away into a state of sleep, the dark void that he persistently reassured others wasn’t affecting him anymore, had returned.
He was fine though. He may still be frequently finding himself engulfed in the bitter darkness, but he didn’t mind that. Everything was fine. He was fine. He was-
He was not fine.
Darkness faded. That never happened, the black void he would float through never ever left him. But it didn’t scare him. No. No. Tommy didn’t get scared of silly things like that. He was only meant to be having a small rest like Sam had ordered him to. He was meant to wake up in few hours’ time, ready to continue his work. So why did the darkness morph into stone? Stone that was familiar. Stone that he had spent staring at for too much of his life on the server.
After the chaos that unfolded there, he promised he would never have to go back again. This was easy to do too, he was sure that he would never have to face the past again. The future was bright, he had won his final battles, so why was this happening?
The fighting had ended, Dream was locked up, Tommy had the discs. It was all over. Why was he being forced to look at the same exhausted eyes that he had stared into all those months ago? He had returned to the bottom of a ravine, a makeshift base resided in it, holding too many pained memories. Around him, the world transformed quickly, the slightest head movement causing the reality surrounding him to spin and shift and change and- and- it was moving too quickly. Surely this had to be a dream, right? A nightmare that he would eventually wake up from. So why did it feel so real. Pain, thoughts, feelings, and emotions that he never thought he had to feel again resurfaced, suffocating him.
The figure that stood before him was undoubtably Wilbur. Eyes vacant, lips pressed together thinly, unkempt hair hidden under a tattered beanie. But Wilbur was dead, he couldn’t be standing there. This is just a dream. But then cold fingers grabbed onto his shoulders. A feeling too familiar for his liking.
Wilbur kept his mouth sealed shut but his words somehow echoed through his mind. “Are we the bad guys?” Tommy wanted to scream, he wanted to thrash about and run but his feet were embedded firmly in place. Paralysed. A smirk formed on the older boy’s face. A smile that wasn’t full of joy like it was previously, when he used to strum on a guitar, waiting for their potions to finish brewing. No, this smirk was cold and sneering. It told Tommy that he was in danger, that he should flee. His body refused.
He closed his eyes. The hands stayed planted into his shoulder, the grip tightening. He wished he could just wake up. Opening his eyes again, the stone walls were now a jarring red. The same red as TNT, a cerise that had cursed his life. And then it was replaced with blinding light, everything exploding all at once. And yet no sound reached his ears, he just watched in silence as he felt the world tremble violently. Wilbur still towered in front of him, expression unchanged.
Then the floor crumbled away, causing the two of them to tumble down. Flashes of light still bursting around him. Then a stick of dynamite fell between him and the emotionless older boy. Another flash. But as the bright white subsided, a gash was now in Wilbur’s chest. A gash that wasn’t there just moments ago. A wound that could’ve only been made by the sharp blade of a sword. A sword wielded by his own father-
Blood started dripping from the cut, droplets hitting his checks. The flow only got heavier, the crimson liquid now splashing down onto him. Panic settled in his core. The blood wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop. So much was spilling onto him that his vision became a blur of red. A metallic tang covered the inside of his mouth. The stench of death and rotting flesh filled his nostrils, causing him to gag, now choking on the thick cherry liquid as it took over his body.
He was going to drown, he was going to drown, he was going to die all alone in this hell, he was going to-
Another hand gripped onto him, this time wrapping around his wrist. Feeling his body being dragged through the thick sea of red, he let himself get taken. Once he surfaced, he gasped for air. Face coated, body heavy, hair matted, t-shirt stained. He glanced up to see who had saved him from the jaws of death.
A porcelain mask stared down at him.
Tommy didn’t even get time to react. The purple glint of shining netherite was lifted into the air before it promptly came crashing down into him. It ripped into his skin before the blade was removed. The cycle repeated. Struggling, he tried to free himself from the grasp but to no avail.
In silence his body got shattered into thousands of tiny fragments. He felt everything. He felt nothing. Everything was quiet.
He wasn’t sure if he liked the mocking, harsh, silent stare of the mask or if he preferred it when insults and commands were muttered out from behind it. Not as if it mattered. He was helpless. He always had been. Just useless extra weight that others had to carry. Not really doing much. Is this why he felt so numb?
As his body was chipped away, a hand would grab the splinter, clutching onto it. It dragged on until there was no more of Tommy left to break, not existing but somehow seeing everything around him. Standing out from the endless darkness was the nauseating green hoodie and the glaring white mask.
The mask twisted. It stretched. It split off into two. It repeated the process.
Hundreds of fake smiles stared at him, no matter where he looked, he could only see the emotionless expression. He hated it. Why wouldn’t it stop. Why wouldn’t he leave him alone. Even in his dreams (Tommy found the name to be slightly ironic) he was cursed to face the man.
Suddenly a cacophony of noise rang out, a familiar voice yelled, one that he thought was locked up in an unescapable prison. Alas, the man still managed to speak to him. He couldn’t understand what any of the masks were saying but he recognised the dry tone. Disappointment, anger, whatever was being said was laced with malicious intent.
His throat tightened, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t scream, what was going on? Dream’s frustrated tone overpowered him. He wanted it to end. He prayed and he hoped and he wished that whatever broken simulation he was experiencing would stop.
In the midst of the chaos, he thought he could hear someone else. A calm, reassuring voice. A voice that he had become familiar with recently. A voice he trusted.
For the first time in what seemed like hours, he was finally able to speak, his voice raspy and weak, “Sam?”
Then everything stopped. Tommy bolted up in his bed, eyes shot wide open.
“-ommy, ‘an you ‘ear m-”
His heart pounded loudly in his ear drums. Sporadic breaths escaped his lips. Salty tears had started to tumble down his cheeks. He felt his hand gently get placed on a soft surface. A faint beat could be felt under his palm as the surface it was touching rose and fell at a steady pace. Tommy felt himself automatically matching it, his heartrate slowed down, and his breathing became stabilised. Once he noticed it was Sam crouching down in front of him, he hurriedly wiped away the tears. Tommy wasn’t scared, he never got scared.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay I’m here.” Sam comforted.
“Sorry,” was all he managed to croak out.
“No need to be sorry, everyone has bad dreams sometimes.”
Embarrassed, Tommy attempted to change the topic, “w-what are you even doing here Sam?”
“You forgot your hardhat at the building site, and I thought I’d return it, though that isn’t important anymore.”
“Thank you, you can leave now,” Tommy hoped the creeper hybrid would follow his request.
“Tommy I am not just going to abandon you,” looks like Tommy’s wishes weren’t going to be answered.
“I’m fine Sam.”
“I’m not going to ask you what you saw or heard, but I want to let you know that you were whimpering in your sleep. It was as if you were afraid.”
“I’m sorry.”
Sam sighed; Tommy panicked. Was Sam mad at him? Dream always hated it when tommy showed weakness, surly Sam felt the same way. Oh no. No, no, no- “Tommy you never need to apologise for stuff like this. You’ve been through so much, please don’t feel the need to say sorry.”
A weight was lifted from his chest. Sam wasn’t annoyed, in fact, he was concerned. It somewhat calmed the boy. “Oh okay, sor-thank you.”
“Do you want to talk about it? You sounded pretty frantic.”
“No not really.” Tommy hesitated, “I do have a question though?”
“Go for it.”
“The prison. Its-its inescapable, right?”
Sam smiled and it was a genuine smile too. Not one of the fake ones he had had to face over the past few months. Instead, it was warm, “of course. No one can get out, I promise.”
Both sat in silence for a moment before Sam decided to ask, “Can I stay with you? Its fine if you don’t want me here, I just thought if I’m here then maybe you could get some well needed rest.”
“I’d like that.”
Without another word, Sam lifted himself onto the bed, sitting next to Tommy. He pulled the blonde closer and Tommy felt his whole body relax. Meting into the warm embrace, he rested his head on Sam’s shoulder. A set of fingers started to gently run through his hair. It felt nice. It felt safe.
For the first time in weeks, Tommy drifted off into a peaceful sleep, not worrying about the world around him.