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It’s been three weeks since Dream got locked up in the prison, and Tommy has never been happier.
At least that’s what he tells people when they approach him on the street, telling him that he’s brave, that he’s a hero.
He is happy most of the time. He spends his days doing mindless chores for the hotel, talking with Tubbo about things that don’t matter, and causing general chaos on the server. His days are filled with laughter and fun.
But then the sun sets, and every night Tubbo goes back to his warm little cottage in Snowchester, and everyone leaves, and he’s left all alone.
And it gets so cold...
Tubbo said Tommy could live with him but he won’t- he can’t leave. His dirt hut is just fine, and it’s only a two minute walk from l’Manburg.
So every night Tommy curls up on the dirt floors of his home, and he listens to his discs on repeat until his eyes grow heavy and he feel himself wanting to drift off to the warm embrace of sleep.
He can never reach it though.
Instead Tommy’s thoughts keep him up at night. His deepest regrets and biggest failures claw into his head and wrap their cold fist around his heart.
They come with a voice too— a cruel taunting tone that sounds an awful lot like Wilbur.
“Let’s be the bad guys Tommy.” The voice says as it sends ice cold shivers down Tommy’s spine
“No one is on our side Tommy” The voice says as it drives a frozen stake into Tommy’s heart
Often the voice will shift into another tone, this one the perfume of dead roses, sickly sweet and full of false compassion.
Oozing honey, Dream’s voice tells Tommy, “You’re never going to get anywhere without me. You need me, Tommy.”
Tommy tries to yell at the voice, to say that it’s a monster and Dream is a horrible person and Tommy could never need him. The voice only laughs.
“And who’s to say you’re any better than Dream is”
And this is when Tommy’s mind starts to flood with images of all the things that are his fault. A home going up in flames..a man being held hostage, sobbing and begging for his life...a pink haired man with betrayal in his eyes and violence in his heart....a beautiful country turned to dust and debris....and a once beloved man in a dirty trenchcoat, as ripped and mangled as his sanity, who lay dying because Tommy wasn’t enough to save him.
And no matter how hard Tommy squeezes his eyes shut and hugs himself for warmth, the memory of an axe splitting skin and bone cuts through his thoughts... A sword entering a defenseless pleading man, and coming out dripping with blood... and so so much blood. On the floor, on his clothes and hands, on the body that lies at his feet. And the worst part is that the blood isn’t his.
Tommy killed Dream. He killed him and he enjoyed doing it. He did it not once, but twice, and he would have done it a third time except that Dream had something he wants.
Who is he to call Dream a monster?
This is the point in the night when the air turns so cold that Tommy can see his ragged breathing turn to clouds around him, and his shivering teeth is the only sound that breaks the silence.
Some nights Tommy will get up from the ground, and he’ll walk to the ruins of l’Manburg, where the red vines creep over the broken stone.
He’ll stand on the edge, on some plank or rock that juts out into the crater, and he’ll ask himself if he deserves to be there.
Tubbo has a country to look after, Tommy thinks to himself, The last time he had a country to look after I ruined it for him. Just like I ruin everything and everyone I touch.
Maybe it would be better if I wasn’t around anymore. I wouldn’t be able to ruin anything else.
He’ll kick a loose pebble down into the crater, watch it fall to the bottom.
It would be so easy to fall, just like pebble, and go tumbling down into the darkness. The voices wouldn’t be able to reach him there...
He’ll sink to the ground, hugging his knees to his chest and resting his head under his arms. Only then, at the edge of a crater that was once a nation, frost on his eyelashes, and scars on his face, will Tommy finally sleep.
Tubbo will find him in the morning. He doesn’t question what Tommy is doing there.
So then another day of mindless chores and talking about things that don’t matter dawns, and Tommy is happy. He won, and everything will be ok again.
He just wishes it wasn’t so damn cold at night.