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"And if Lady Prime would bless me as one of her subscribers, then I will ring her holy bell and invite further acolytes into her domain so that she may feel the love of the devout and love them in turn."
The prayer ends, and Tommy takes a second to breathe. To feel the harsh marble of the church floor beneath his knees, to register the chill of the air and hear the water splashing in the nearby fountain. He inhales deeply, opening his eyes when he lets it go so that he can see the desolate church and mourn the loss of his congregation.
Sapnap, who lost his faith, Dream with his hubris, Wilbur who died, Tubbo who could no longer be bothered to be dutiful to their Lady. None of them came to the church except to exploit the no armor policy, the neutral and holy ground.
Tommy doesn't fault them, even his faith has shaken once or twice in the wars and conflicts that have torn the server apart. That doesn't mean he misses them any less, doesn't mean he doesn't feel their absence as much as he feels the constant ache of loneliness in his chest.
He lifts himself from the marble, but he can't bring himself to leave just yet. Feeling instead the desire to stay and just... bask in his Lady's church, knowing She is watching over him and loving him just as much as he is devoted to Her. The reminder is nice.
Sometimes he thinks that if he let himself waste away in here, his Lady would be inclined to greet him personally. To grant his passing soul a way past Limbo and towards the After Eternal that promises a paradise only to Prime's most devoted.
He fantasizes, but he does not see himself worthy, and so Tommy will let the image go and continue pushing on until he can hope to see the worth in himself that his Lady wants him to see.
The water from the fountain lets out a particularly loud splash, and Tommy doesn't bother to resist his desire to look. He turns his head, staring in the dim lighting of the lanterns low on oil to try and see if anyone had joined him in the church. Tommy sees no one, and so he turns forward again.
Stark green eyes meet his, and Tommy starts. If it weren't three in the morning and if Tommy wasn't so worn down from the events of the day, he might've started screaming. Might have started hurling insults, raising his hackles, doing his best to stay on his guard.
But Tommy is tired, and he sees no hostility when he searches the pale face wearing those green, green, eyes. The stranger (who bears a striking resemblance to Dream, with their body type and height and blond hair. But the way they hold themself is all wrong, lacking the loud confidence and strength and instead holds a soft surety in their stance) tilts their head.
"Hello, are you here to pray to Our Lady Prime?" he asks, unable to get himself to speak louder than just above a whisper, his voice husky from saying prayers for however long he'd been kneeling.
The stranger raises an eyebrow at him, their eyes dropping from his face to take in Tommy's dirty clothes and disheveled appearance. Tommy can't really get himself to muster much more than muted indignation at that.
Silence stretches, and Tommy sighs through his nose. He scrubs at his eyes with his fingers in an attempt to wipe away the exhaustion feeding into his mind. Soft, uncalloused fingers interrupt him, starting at the back of his jaw and just barely grazing his skin until their tips are gently pushing his chin upwards.
Tommy's breath stills in his lungs, his muscles freezing him where he sits with his hands over his eyes until the stranger guides them away with the softest hum he's ever heard. He doesn't dare blink open his eyes until the fear of this stranger hurting him when he can't see the attack coming pries his lids apart.
And oh, Tommy's never been one to opt for green, but those eyes seem to trap him. Reminding him of bright grass coated in mildew and shimmering emeralds glinting in the sun. If someone asked him right then, Tommy would say that this was his favorite color. That the green in this stranger's eyes was the only color he ever wanted to see again.
The stranger's lips quirk, and Tommy's eyes are drawn to them instinctively before he forces himself to look back at those eyes. He’s not sure what’s going on, or who this stranger is or why they’re touching him like he’s made of porcelain (like hes fragile but precious) but he doesn’t… Tommy’s surprised to find himself not wanting whatever this moment is to end.
And then there’s lips on his and Tommy’s shock rolls through him. The touch of the other’s mouth electrifies his skin, sending pulses through his face and down his neck, jolting to his fingers and boiling all the way down to his feet. It’s unexpected and thrilling, it’s confusing but not unwanted. Tommy yanks his head backwards, hands shooting up to push at the stranger’s shoulders and keep them at a distance while he breathes through the flush climbing his cheeks and warming up all of his insides like a fire finally able to ignite.
Tommy can see the stranger’s amused grin from the corner of his eye, but he can’t— His mind is whirling too fast with nonsense thoughts for him to be able to make anything of it. Why does he want them to do it again? Why did he like the first one? Is there something wrong with him, that he’ll dare to think of his own desires while sitting in his Lady’s church?
The stranger’s smile slips to a frown, and Tommy barely notices before they’re pushing his hands off their shoulders and cupping his face with both hands. He feels like he’s drowning, like he’s flying, like he’s burning all at once as he registers the touch, done without an ounce, a liter, a gallon of pain and almost entirely welcome to his thirsty-for-contact skin.
“There is nothing wrong with you,” they whisper, the first words Tommy’s heard them say. That feels significant, somehow. That the first thing this stranger tells him is reminding him that he’s not wrong or broken(and he’s positive that’s what they’re saying, even if the word “broken” was never uttered).
He sucks in a breath, eyes stinging in the air and reminding him he needs to blink even as he finds himself unable to. The stranger’s nose touches his, and it’s only then he realizes they’re getting closer. Tommy waits in anticipation this time, searching those bright green eyes until he grows frustrated with their hesitation and jolts forward until his teeth click with theirs painfully.
Tommy hisses, attempting to yank backwards only for his movement to be stopped by the soft grip of the stranger. Their laugh rings softly in his ears and then finally, finally their lips meet again and Tommy’s mind is quiet.