Chapter Text
he prefers to think of himself as a phantom rather than a ghost, because for a while, he just hovers over them. he doesn’t dare to come close-
except for dream.
for dream-
oh, for dream-
for dream he gets as close as possible. he gets right up in dream’s face, all in his space, and he grins. and he knows that, for once, dream is scared.
“you proud of yourself?” is the first thing he says, and when dream doesn’t respond, tommy doesn’t say anything else. he just sits there and smiles, stares at dream, knows that his face is probably bloodied in death, knows that the death-causing injuries stay (he remembers the bloodstain on ghostbur’s coat), knows that even though he’s grey, his teeth are stained dark with his own blood. and he grins wide at dream, and he does not let his grin fade.
he loses track of how long it’s been. he’s gone back and forth, between the prison and other places. he’s figured out how to make himself visible and invisible. he’s figured out how to float through walls, and shit- it’s fun, mostly. it’s not so fun being dead, but being a ghost is kind of cool. especially because he knows he isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
but still. he isn’t ready to face anyone else yet, so most of the time he remains in the prison and grins at dream. and eventually, dream grins back.
“tommy,” dream says, teeth bared. tommy’s smile is a mark of aggression; dream’s is one of fear. good. he should be afraid. there is no god that can reach them in this prison. “what are you doing here?”
“isn’t it obvious, big man?” he replies. “i’m here to haunt you.”
“why me?” dream snorts. “why not one of your other little friends?”
“because you’re the one that killed me, dream,” tommy snaps. “time and time again. it all comes back to you, doesn’t it? did you know- even the god of the world looks like you. although i’m sure you knew that, it probably boosts your ego.”
dream’s doesn’t dignify this with a response. tommy huffs and crosses his arms.
“you might as well talk to me,” he says eventually. “i’m not going anywhere. you tried your damn best to get rid of me, didn’t you, and it just didn’t work. look at you! you keep losing to a kid! now you’re trapped in here again, and you don’t even have me to torment, because i can just leave! and your cat is dead, too- you have nothing, dream. you’ve driven away everyone. and for what?”
“shut up!” dream roars, one hand raised, and tommy laughs.
“what are you going to do, hit me? try it! you did that already, so much that it killed me, dick! i’m dead because of you!”
he finishes it with anger, because god, is he angry. he’s fucking furious. dream has taken everything from him, and for what?
“for what, dream?” he asks, deflating. “what was it all for? why’d you do it?”
“you pushed me too far,” dream snarls.
“so you killed me. permanently. you know, i should’ve known it would be you to do it. it always comes down to me and you, big man, doesn’t it? and it’s going to do it again, because you’ve got two lives gone and i’ve taken both of them, and you know what? if you escape, sapnap kills you, fine, whatever, i can live with that. but if you die in here-”
he hovers closer to dream, getting up by his ear, drops his voice to a whisper. dream freezes.
“if you die in here, i’ll have taken your last life from you, too.”
he backs up quickly, almost to the edge of the lava, and he fucking cackles. “you can’t win, dream! you’re never getting out of here, and i’m going to take all three of your lives from you, just like you did from me! and there is nothing you can do about it!”
dream looks as furious as tommy feels. good. he should be furious. he should be afraid. he should be forced to feel everything that tommy felt while he was alive. he should feel pain. tommy wants him to suffer.
but he likes to think that he’s a better person than dream, so he says nothing. he just smiles and dream snarls back and eventually, when he gets sick of the stand-off, he floats back through the lava.
he rests there, for a moment, lets the world burn around him. it doesn’t hurt. nothing can hurt him anymore, at least not physically. he still feels plenty of pain knowing that the rest of the world continues on without him while he’s stuck in time. and sure, dream has the book, and hypothetically they could bring him back, but he doesn’t know if he’s worth all of that. he doesn’t think he’s worth the trouble of whatever dream would make them go through in order to complete the resurrection.
when he’s had enough of the lava, he floats back out. he’s a little angry at sam, mostly because sam could’ve tried harder to get him out, and now he’s- well- dead. but really, it all comes down to it being dream’s fault, and he doesn’t have the energy to be angry at anyone other than dream.
still, he chooses to make himself invisible as he floats past sam. the warden looks distraught, even from under the mask. good, tommy thinks, he should be. he won’t be angry, but he has every right to be a little salty about it.
it’s nighttime. the rest of the world is still spinning. there are lanterns in the sky and there are flowers outside his house and people have built statues that are all over the place, littering the ground, and he smiles. he didn’t want this. he didn’t want any of this.
it’s the flowers that get to him, really, the fact that they’re practically covering what was once his front yard. he sits down on the ground- or at least, tries to materialize enough that he doesn’t immediately float to the core of the earth- and stares at the path leading up to his doors.
god, is this what he’s become? getting emotional over a few flowers? it’s not the flowers, he decides, it’s what the flowers represent. not their language, or whatever, but the fact that people cared about him enough to plant flowers outside his house. the fact that people remember him.
this wasn’t how he wanted to die. he can’t change the past. he can, however, change the future. and god, if he has anything to say about it, he’s going to change the fucking future. this shit started with him, and he’s going to make damn well sure that it ends with him, too.