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Sam stood in front of Tommy’s hotel, frowning.
“What do you mean you’re shutting it down?”
Tommy gave Sam a confused look. Why did Sam care so much? Why was he acting like he gave a crap? Last time Tommy had checked, Sam hated Tommy with every fiber of his being for what happened with Ghostbur.
Then again, this entire day had been strange.
“Because Jack Manifold has been trying to take it,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets, “Obviously.”
Sam was still frowning. “And you’re just going to let him?”
“What else am I supposed to do?” Tommy scowled at the ground. “It doesn’t matter anyway, it was just some stupid idea.”
“You wanted a safe place for everyone to stay.” Sam tilted his head at the hotel that they had worked to create all those months ago. “That doesn’t sound stupid to me.”
“Oh yeah?” Tommy snapped, “Well, that’s great. I manage to do one non-stupid thing in my life. Somebody give me a medal.”
Sam glanced at Tommy uncomfortably. “That’s not what I meant.”
Tommy was breathing heavily, and he looked away. There was no point in arguing over this. Any relationship that he had with Sam was dead at this point. There was no point in trying to get it back. There was no point in trying to explain the jumbled mess of emotions that were tangled in Tommy’s chest.
“What did you mean, then?” Tommy crossed his arms. “Because first you want to know why I was sad Sam Nook, because apparently he was ‘just a robot’ and now you want to know why I’m giving up this stupid hotel. If you don’t like my decisions, then bloody leave.”
Tommy pointed behind him, down the prime path and away from Tommy.
Sam looked confused. “I… I just… I don’t understand. You worked so hard for this hotel.”
“I—” Tommy’s voice closed off. “—I don’t owe anything to you. Just leave. Please.”
Sam just stood there, and Tommy glared, sitting down at the edge of the prime path and hoping that maybe if he just ignored Sam, he would get bored and leave him the hell alone.
Instead, Sam sat down next to him.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” he said slowly, “But maybe you could talk to me?”
Tommy glared at the sky. He didn’t owe Sam anything. He wasn’t saying anything. He was ignoring Sam.
“Could you at least tell me what I did wrong?”
Oh, he wanted to act like that.
“Oh, I’m sorry, where should I start?” Tommy asked sarcastically, “How about that time where you abandoned me in a prison where I died? Or, better yet, let’s think about that time when I was trying to kill Dream, and instead, you accused me of trying to free him and Ghostbur died and Wilbur was revived and you told me that if you saw me again you’d kill me and then hunt down the ghost that remains?”
Tommy’s voice was shaking, and he forced himself to stay under control. He was fine. Everything was fine. Sam was the one with problems. Sam was the one who couldn’t do anything useful.
“Remember that, Sam?” Tommy snapped, “Or should I continue to the part where you act like it’s weird for me to miss a robot who actually spent time with me, and actually gave a crap about me?”
Sam didn’t say anything, and Tommy took vindictive pleasure in the silence. “That’s what I thought.”
They sat there in prolonged silence, watching as the sky turned into a vast array of oranges and pinks and reds.
“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered.
Tommy stiffened. “What?”
“I’m sorry.” Sam laughed, sounding more broken than Tommy had ever heard him. “I… I really screwed up, didn’t I?”
Tommy rolled his eyes, trying to mask the way his hands were trembling. “You don’t say?”
“I shouldn’t have done those things,” Sam continued. Sam clasped his hands together. “I… I was just trying to keep Dream from hurting anyone else, but I guess I was doing the harm too, huh?”
Tommy glared. “Listen, I don’t want Dream to escape. I don’t—” Just thinking about Dream standing over Tommy with that stupid croon in his voice was enough to make Tommy want to shudder. “And I get why you might, why you might panic because of that. But—”
Tommy hugged himself. Sam was watching Tommy attentively, as though the words he was about to say actually had any value. Like he actually cared about how he could be a better person.
“They hurt, alright? I thought… I thought we had bonded or something like that, I don’t know—” Tommy’s throat closed off. He glared. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Okay.” Sam sounded understanding. He sounded like he did back before Tommy tried to get closure. He sounded like he cared, but he didn’t, because nobody ever truly cared, they were only ever trying to use, use, use—
Tommy stood up abruptly. He couldn’t breathe. He needed to get out of there.
“I’m leaving, since you apparently won’t,” Tommy said, his voice shaking. Tommy hoped that Sam would think it was due to anger instead of this strange over-encompassing grief that shook him to the core. “Just… leave me alone, alright?”
Sam didn’t try to follow Tommy, and Tommy went to his house, greeting a hissing Shroud. He got antsy at night, so Tommy didn’t bother to try to pet him.
Instead, Tommy flopped on top of his bed, trying not to think about stupid conversations and apologies.
Sam hadn’t really meant it anyway.
The next day, Tommy found himself walking back to the hotel. He stared at the building that he had once been so excited to see unveiled. He remembered doing those stupid tasks for Sam Nook. He remembered pretending to be annoyed when Sam Nook forced him to wear that stupid safety equipment.
Tommy swallowed back a lump in his throat. He was fine. There was nothing wrong.
Tommy tried not to think of cold obsidian walls closing in on him as he screamed and shouted for someone to come, but nobody did, and there was only Dream, who was laughing—
Don’t think about that, Tommy told himself sternly.
It was over. It was over. Tommy was not in the prison. Tommy hadn’t been abandoned by someone he thought cared about him.
Tommy thought Wilbur had cared about him.
Fool me once, shame on you.
Tommy thought Dream had cared about him.
Fool me twice, shame on me.
And then there was Sam. Sam, the one who Tommy thought my finally be different. Sam, the one who Tommy had hoped would stay by his side, who Tommy had actually believed when he said he cared.
Fool me three times—
Why had he even been trying anymore?
In all honesty, Tommy didn’t want to touch the hotel. He didn’t even like looking at it. It only reminded him of a time that had actually been filled with hope. It only reminded him of a time that might have turned out okay if Tommy hadn’t made one stupid attempt at closure.
Tommy turned around, looking away from the hotel. He sat down on the prime path again, tugging at his hair.
Tommy really was pathetic. He wanted to get rid of things that reminded him of the past, and yet he clung to them all the same. He was like a sensitive child, not able to let go of something that wasn’t even making him happy anymore.
And then Tommy noticed a small slip of paper taped to the ground.
Curiosity overcoming him, Tommy let go of his hair and walked to the slip of paper, picking it up and quickly scanning its contents.
I’m sorry.
I should’ve been better.
You don’t have to forgive me.
It didn’t exactly take a genius to figure out who wrote the note.
Scowling, Tommy crumpled up the sheet of paper in his hands and threw it off of the path. He watched it half-heartedly soar into the grass, his heart beating erratically.
Then, panic overcame him.
Why did he do that? Sam was trying to make things right, and Tommy had thrown it away.
Why did Tommy keep pushing people away?
No wonder everyone got sick of him in the end. Even Wilbur had turned to Ranboo, because Ranboo was everything that Tommy could never manage to be.
And Tommy was just stupid, unlovable Tommy.
There was a time when Sam would’ve refuted that.
Tommy let out a shout of frustration and marched down to where he had thrown the stupid piece of paper. He smoothed it out, and he pulled out a quill to write.
I don’t forgive you.
You should’ve known better.
I hate—
For some reason, Tommy frowned, and he scratched out the beginnings of the last line.
You owe me a lawyer to get this stupid hotel back.
Tommy marched the piece of paper as close to the hotel as he dared, slammed it to the ground, and marched back to his house.
The next day, as Tommy was walking shroud, Tommy spotted a fresh piece of paper sitting in front of his doorstep.
Okay. Meet me in front of the hotel tomorrow?
Tommy scowled, and he crouched down to quickly scrawl underneath.
Fine.