Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Every detail could be important.

-

A knock on his bedroom door has Tommy groaning and blinking his eyes open.

Phil’s voice filters from outside the room, “Time for school!”

With another groan, Tommy sits up and fumbles around for his alarm, slamming the cancel button with probably more force than necessary. The blonde fumbles around the room, shrugging off his pajamas and slipping on one of his black T-shirts.

On the front in big bold letters it says, ‘Eat. Sleep. Game.’ and Tommy grins at himself in the mirror while quickly threading his hands through his bird nest hair in an attempt to tame it.

He grabs his ratty red backpack and throws open the door, silently observing the chaos that is his family.

Techno’s currently banging at the bathroom door, “Wilbur, it doesn’t take a whole hour to do your hair! Get out or we’ll be late!”

On cue, Tommy hears Phil call from the kitchen “You guys are gonna be late!”

The blonde good-naturedly chuckles and shuffles down the hallway and into the living room. Setting his bag down by the front door, Tommy strides into the kitchen and sits down at the table, watching as Phil attempts to make breakfast.

“Need help big man?” Tommy knows he’s just as unqualified as Phil is.

The older man laughs and offers a smile over his shoulder, completely avoiding the question. “Last month of school, are you excited?”

Tommy shrugs but notices Phil has already turned back to his very very burned eggs and instead voices his thoughts out loud. “Not really, we have exams coming up.”

“You’ll do great-”

Wilbur cuts him off, huffing into the kitchen and plopping down into a chair. “Phil, tell Techno I need at least an hour and a half to do my hair!”

Phil sighs and turns around with two plates of burnt eggs. “We already had this talk, Wil.”

“It’s not fair!”

Phil sets one plate in front of Wilbur and the other in front of an empty chair, where Tommy assumes Techno will sit.

“Don’t put me in the middle of this,” Phil looks up and across the table, meeting Tommy’s eyes.

His bright green eyes shine at Tommy and a shiver works its way down the teen’s spine. Tommy clenches his hands, closes his eyes, and forces himself to take a deep breath.

The kitchen goes silent and Wilbur asks uncharacteristically quiet, “Tommy, are you okay?”

When the blonde blinks open his eyes, it’s to see Wilbur and Phil staring at him in concern. He flushes a deep red at the attention.

“Mate, do you feel okay? You don’t have to go to school.”

Dull blue meets warm sapphire and for a moment no words are passed before Tommy quickly shakes his head and mumbles out, “I’m okay, just tired.”

Another pause, “Okay…”

Techno breaks the spell, clattering down into his chair and instantly grabbing a fork full of eggs. Phil and Wilbur laugh as Tommy looks on in quiet amusement.

He watches as his brothers and father banter back and forth, loudly talking about the upcoming day. Sorrow fills Tommy’s gut and momentarily paralyzes him. He used to be exactly like that, to a point where most people found him annoying-

That’s not right, he’s always been quiet. He’s the shy and quiet kid of the family, everyone knows that.

Phil clears his throat and yells over the conversation Wilbur and Techno are invested in as they shovel eggs into their mouths.

“You guys better get going or you're gonna be late!”

There’s a flurry of movement and Tommy pounces towards his backpack, shrugging it on and following his brothers out the door. He looks back and waves to Phil, who’s leaned against the door frame with a grin.

The trio practically sprint down the sidewalk, it seems they were later than originally thought.

The air is warm, almost to an alarming degree if you asked Tommy. The humidity tangles around him and sticks to his skin.

He feels light-headed from trying to run so fast and his ears start ringing as he stutters to a halt, looking around in confusion. It’s high pitched and so unbearably loud that it has Tommy doubling over and lifting his hands to cover his ears.

Small flecks of blood coat them and Tommy feels like he’s gonna be sick.

Techno’s voice cuts through, “Are you coming?”

As quick as it came, it’s gone and Tommy looks up to see Wilbur and Techno looking at him expectantly.

The pink haired boy has his arms crossed while Wilbur is busy fussing with his hair.

His fingers aren’t coated in anything and he feels perfectly healthy, even the air seems to have thinned out enough to allow him to catch a proper breath. Tommy grimaces and tries to shake off the nerves he had been hit with.

The trio continue on their path towards the school while Techno gives him a quick glance every so often but ultimately doesn’t say anything.

The school comes into full view and the trio pick up their pace, well aware of the fact that they’re technically five minutes late. When they reach the entrance, the twins head towards the senior classes while Tommy runs towards the freshman hallways.

The blonde fumbles with his locker, grabs his materials, and tries to silently shuffle into his English class.

The hinges screech and he ends up red-faced as he’s chewed out by the teacher and laughed at by his classmates.

The humiliation from it all is enough for him to zone out in the back of class and let the morning pass by in a hazy blur while the blonde looks blankly outside. It’s a warm and bright spring day; the birds chirp jubilantly and there’s not a single cloud in the sky.

Tommy tries to soak it in; he loves the spring and the warmth it brings. He’ll never admit it out loud but he also loves to admire all the different flowers that grow.

The blonde slides his eyes away from the window and watches as the bell cuts their teacher off mid-sentence. Mr. what’s-his-name huffs and rolls his eyes before offering a polite goodbye.

Tommy doesn’t wait around, he stops at his locker to shove his things in and nearly sprints to the cafeteria.

Most kids stick to their own table and the socially-awkward boy sighs in relief when he notices his table is still empty.

He sits down and slowly scans the crowd for a familiar face who will come bounding up with a smiling face and packed lunch and worry over the fact that he hasn’t eaten.

He’s not hungry, hasn’t been in days; his body tries to occasionally growl but Tommy promptly ignores it. If he could survive weeks with a few scraps of stale bread and rotten meat, he could go a few days without food.

Teens continue to stream in, all talking and laughing with their friends as they grab their lunch. Tommy waits patiently, eyes darting around in hopes to see a familiar head of chocolate brown hair and bright eyes.

He waits all year. No, he only waits forty-five minutes, a full period, before he feels his hope diminish as the bell rings.

Betrayal stings at the backs of his eyes. Tommy ducks his head in an attempt to protect himself from the outer world.

He shouldn't feel so betrayed; he knows that Tubbo's not the kind of kid to just miss school so something big must’ve happened. It’s just one lunch period.

It’s not like Tubbo will never see him again, or abandon and turn his back on him. Right?

He’ll see Tubbo tomorrow. This is ridiculous.

Tommy manages to stand up and drag his feet towards his locker, taking out a random notebook in preparation for his next class.

He blinks, class ends.

Time has been molasses, days blurring in together until it’s nothing but a clusterfuck of a thousand events. He hadn’t been able to keep track of time, it seemed so unimportant. The only thing he needed to acknowledge was when the sun rose and set.

That’s wrong. He does care, he remembers dates and weeks because it’s just one month until school ends and he has so many plans for the summer. Tommy keeps track of the days religiously; he writes in calendars and journals so he can know when exams are and when school ends and when he can hangout with Tubbo.

It’s how he has always been and every other normal kid does the same thing.

The last bell finally rings and Tommy quickly shoves his assignments for the day into his backpack and races out of the school.

He finds a spot in front of school on the cement stairs and sits, watching as all the other kids run to their buses or get in their parent’s cars. Tommy has to wait for Techno and Wilbur, so they can all walk home together. Phil said it’s not safe to walk around the city alone.

The blonde rolls his neck, relishing in the relief he gets when it cracks. He tilts his head up, eyes searching around for his siblings before he’s motionless.

Across the road, between the crowds of kids and buses, an enderman looks him directly in the eye.

Endermen don’t exist, he’s just having another one of his weird day-dream things.

The boy, because obviously, it’s just a boy, continues to silently stand and stare at him across the road.

Tommy wonders where the boy got his eye contacts from because whichever doctor told him the mismatching colors went well together, was lying to him. However, Tommy supposed it went okay with the whole split colored hair thing.

It’s a standoff that no one around him seems to notice. Tommy refuses to back down, never letting his eyes stray away from the boy.

A girl accidentally jostles him and he turns, smiling awkwardly as she says sorry. What really matters is that when Tommy looks back, the boy is gone.

Tommy unconsciously fiddles with and straightens out his classic red and white t-shirt, a nervous habit he could never drop.

The kids and parents and buses clear out fast, leaving Tommy to sit alone and wonder where the hell his brothers were.

Tommy’s not sure how long he waits but the sun starts to make its descent towards the edge of the earth, making the teen shiver. It’s getting colder and he wishes his brothers would just hurry up as annoyance courses through his veins and makes him clench his teeth.

Where are his brothers?

Heavy clouds converge over each other to cover the sky while the wind fractionally picks up. It’s so sudden that he feels like he’s getting whiplash from the shift in the weather. He hugs his arms around himself, trying to preserve any warmth he has left.

Of course Tommy was an idiot and forgot to pack a coat. He doesn't even know how he managed to get out of the house without Phil shoving one into his hands.

As time presses on, small flurries start to steadily fall, coating him in a thin white layer. This is when the blonde starts to realize just how stupid it is to walk from and to school with no coat in the middle of winter.

He’s shivering, curled up in a ball and trying to calm himself down as panic flows through his veins like ice, adding to his dropping temperature. He tries to calm himself and opts to watch his backpack get covered in its own blanket of snow.

Where are his brothers? Why aren’t they here?

A hand settles on his shaking shoulder and Tommy feels the fear leave him while he quickly looks up, a smile on his face.

It drops as he meets the eyes of the kid that was staring at him from across the road earlier.

Tommy should run but he’s so so cold; his body is shutting down and running seems like so much trouble.

The wind blows and Tommy wonders if his lips have started to turn blue. Isn’t that what happens when you start getting hypothermia?

The kid drops down on the steps to sit next to him, not a single freezing snowflake landing on him while Tommy is slowly getting overtaken by them.

He doesn’t meet his eyes, “You can’t keep this up.” His voice is soft and for a moment, Tommy thinks it’s almost familiar.

That doesn’t make sense though because, “I’m not doing anything.” Tommy barely gets the words out with how badly his teeth are chattering, the snow continues to coat the world in white.

“It’s only getting even more out of control.”

Tommy has no idea what the kid is talking about but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it because he lets out a startled cry, holding his face as blood pours from his nose and a cut on his cheek that makes no sense because it came out of nowhere.

His ears distantly ring but the kid’s voice is as clear as day.

“You can’t take much more.”

Sky blue meets emerald green and blood red before the wind and snow pick up and Tommy can’t see anything but white.

The ground disappears and he’s falling and falling and falling, until there’s a small thud and something soft is under him.

He turns to his door where Phil is looking at him with a frown. “I shouldn’t have made you go to school.” He murmurs, defeated.

“What happened?” He throat is like sandpaper, he's parched.

“Wilbur and Techno found you huddled on the steps in front of the school with a fever, you were pretty out of it.” Phil sighs.

The piercing cold of snow is the only thing he remembers. “Oh.”

“I'm so thankful Techno and Wil found you in time, just try to get some sleep and I’ll be back to check up on you.”

The blonde nods, afraid that his words will fail him. Phil quietly shuts the door, leaving Tommy by himself to dejectedly look at his ceiling.

He hasn’t had a peaceful rest in weeks, possibly months, he deserves a break. Tommy closes his eyes and lets himself drift.

Chapter Text

He wakes up to the sound of one of his oak doors slowly creaking open and dim candlelight peeking its way into the room. The room was freezing, colder than snow and Tommy instinctively shivers before pulling his comforter tighter around himself and huddling under it.

There’s a small sigh before the blonde hears soft footsteps approach his fireplace. A timbre voice breaks the silence.

“No wonder it’s so cold in here.” Fondness laces his voice.

The teen turns onto his back and lets out a loud yawn while stretching his arms above him, “There was supposed to be enough wood in there to last all night.” He says in a voice muddled with sleep and promptly ignores the slight whine in it.

The brunette chuckles and Tommy gets off his stomach and lifts himself up to prop against the carved pine headboard.

His eyes take a moment to adjust to the dark but then he watches in amusement as Wil takes one of the fire pokers and nudges at the wood. It crumbles into ash at the slight push and Tommy almost laughs out loud when Wilbur’s face sours.

The older boy sets the iron rod down and grabs a few logs from the stack next to the fireplace. He sets them gently inside before grabbing a few more to lug on top of the others.

“The wood burned pretty quickly,” Wilbur says mildly as he grabs the flint and steel,kneeling in front of the wood before striking it together.

Tommy rolls his eyes, glad the darkness of the room hides his face and sarcastically answers, “No, really?”

Wilbur ignores him, continuing to strike the flint and steel without hesitance. “Is this pine or spruce?”

“Spruce.”

“No wonder it burned so quickly, spruce wood is horrible for kindling.” A spark finally catches and Wilbur backs up as a small flame engulfs one of the logs.

In seconds, the room is dimly lit and the sounds of crackling wood echoes around them. The shadows that lurk in the corners of the room disappear and Tommy feels something tight in his chest uncoil.

“Then why is it in the castle?” Wilbur shrugs in response.

The blonde wants to laugh and tease him, because isn’t it a part of his job to know what goes on around the place? Even if it’s just as simple as types of wood for the kindling?

He chooses to let it go, it’s too late in the night to start things like that.

Tommy closes his eyes again and starts to fall asleep while sitting up as he continues to grasp his comforter while the fire starts to warm up the cold room.

Without warning, his ears distantly ring, muffling any sounds around him. His anxiety rears its head and Tommy’s eyes shoot open, looking around.

Wilbur’s nowhere in sight and the large, empty room begins to shrink towards the king-sized bed. His breath stutters in his chest as the walls shift from fancy wallpaper to cold metal. His double oak doors forge into one dark, cold metal one. There’s no handle.

In the quiet, Tommy tries to regain his breathing and calm himself as the room stops shrinking mid-way and starts reversing. The metal door separates into two oak ones, the wallpaper rolls back up, and the fireplace continues to merrily burn from the opposite side of the room.

Next to him, the bed dips and Tommy realizes he must’ve been so out of it he hadn’t heard Wilbur move across the room. He was lucky his brother hadn’t noticed the attack or else Wil would’ve fretted over him like a mother-hen for at least the next week.

The day-dream hallucinations had been coming more recently, if Tommy was more awake, he’d start to get worried something serious was actually going on.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on it as Wilbur quietly shuffles onto the bed before lifting up the comforter and wrapping it around himself. Tommy slides down from the headboard and fully relaxes when he realizes he has his hearing back and that Wilbur’s here to offer comfort.

The older boy doesn’t need to ask for permission to get in the bed, they ended up sleeping together so many times that Tommy wondered why they even attempted to sleep apart.

The pair lay in silence, listening to the wood pop and the wind whip against the large windows. Snow flurries hurtle past in a white blur.

After a few moments, Wilbur shifts onto his side, facing towards the center of the king sized bed. Tommy doesn’t miss a beat and quickly scoots himself towards the middle.

He easily tucks himself under Wilbur’s chin and feels warm and secure arms wrap around him.

Thoughts race through his head but he finally manages to settle on one, the one that had most likely brought Wilbur here in the first place.

“I wish they weren’t out there,” The blonde confesses in a whisper.

Wilbur’s chest softly vibrates as he speaks, “I do too.”

“It’s not fair.” He wants to shout it at the rooftops.

Wilbur pauses, thinking over his words as he works his jaw. “I wish it wasn’t how it works, but sometimes we’re going to have to do things we hate. Tech and dad have lived through worse situations, they’ll be okay Toms.”

It’s not fair to hold it against Wilbur for holding out hope but the truth is Tommy already knows that if the right quest comes along Phil and Techno won’t be coming back. They’ll be able to leave their duty behind and just become two adventures traveling the world, no kingdom or family holding them back.

A particularly strong gust of wind and snow hits against the window, Tommy can’t suppress his flinch at the loud noise.

Wilbur just holds him tighter in an attempt at comfort; it might’ve worked except that an ever-growing part of him doesn’t feel any comfort, only anxiety at the thought of being trapped with Wilbur and unable to move. The comforter suddenly feels more suffocating.

The air feels heavy and Tommy’s lungs have a hard time properly expanding. He starts to wonder when his sheets had started weighing so much.

Wilbur leans in closer and in a honey sweet voice says, “Don’t think about things like that. They’ll come back like always.”

Tommy’s voice falters, he chooses to nod his head in response.

It’s as if someone suddenly hit the brakes because Tommy’s train of thought derails. His worries and anxieties disappear in a blink and Tommy feels them slip away as the warmth of the fire, comforter, and Wilbur start to catch up to him.

Tiredness sweeps over him like an extra blanket as Wilbur continues to hold and comfort him. T

He’s been so tired; some peaceful rest on a soft bed next to Wilbur would do his aching body some good.

He hasn’t slept on a proper bed in so long, the ground was so hard and lumpy.

He internally laughs, too tired to push it past his lips. He’s so tired that he’s not making any sense. He literally slept in his bed yesterday.

“I wish we could stay like this,” He slurs out without thought.

“We could, there’s no important meetings or obligations tomorrow,” Wilbur offers and Tommy detects the smile in his brother’s voice, “We could lay like this all day.”

He knows it’s not true, Wilbur’s taken on all the responsibility since Techno and dad left. There’s always something that needs to be done. Guilt rolls in his gut but that’s not what has Tommy’s heart breaking from sadness.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Wilbur shifts, confusion evident in his voice. “What do you mean ?”

He pauses. Wilbur’s arms are so warm and it’s the middle of the night. Sleep beckons him like an old friend and Tommy finds himself wanting to give in and let go whatever conversation he was trying to dredge up.

He drowsily blinks and makes eye contact with the tall figure in the corner of the room. Their long tail swishes from shadow to shadow in an ominous melody.

Wilbur doesn’t seem to notice the mismatched glowing eyes and Tommy knows he’d never be able to voice it out loud. He gains a small amount of alertness, just enough to speak.

“I don’t want you to leave,” the teen confesses.

“Leave?” Wilbur echoes, “Toms, I’m not going anywhere. Ever.” It’s said so self-assuredly that Tommy wants to truly give in and believe him.

The moment of clarity is gone, Tommy barely has enough energy to say, “You’ve already left, Wil.” It's a sad truth; so indisputable that the younger boy wonders what Wil could even say to try to counteract it.

Wilbur tenses, muscles clamped tightly together.

“Tommy, you’re making no sense. Stop saying nonsense, let it go.” It’s forceful with a hint of the familiar cruelness and Tommy knows he messed up, because he always does.

He lets his eyes roam back to the now empty corner of the room.

“You must be so tired.” Tommy knows an order when he hears one and he hastily closes his eyes.

Tommy inwardly shrugs, fighting against his big brother’s wishes would always end up futile. Maybe the young prince can throw a tantrum about it in the morning but right now his thoughts are breaking apart until there’s only a jumbled mess left.

A tantrum is proper, Wilbur’s right, he’s just speaking nonsense. His older brother is holding and comforting him, Wilbur just wants Tommy to be unburdened while Techno and Ph- Dad are away.

“I’m sorry.” He replies automatically with numb lips.

Wilbur takes a deep breath and Tommy feels the moment Wilbur returns. “It’s alright,” he says in a gentle voice, “It’s just not good to say those things out loud and put it into the world.”

Tommy lightly nods, eyes kept firmly shut as he listens to the steady thumping of Wilburs heart. It’s lulling him to sleep but Tommy doesn’t mind, not one bit.

“And Toms?”

“Mmm?”

“In the morning, we’ll have a nice big breakfast. It kills me to watch you starve.”

Tommy doesn’t have it in his heart to tell Wilbur that there’s no point, he can’t keep anything other than stale bread down and even then, maybe a small piece if he’s lucky.

Instead, he continues to listen to the beat of his alive brother’s heart. He floats into sleep and ends up dreaming of the most beautiful baby blue chrysanthemums.

Chapter Text

He hugs his knees to his chest tightly, huddled behind a dirtied dumpster in a dark alley. Out on the dirt-path streets, starved and cold players mill around and beg each other for food.

Food is scarce in the crossroads, players are always starving while members of servers are fed like kings and queens.

Tommy’s covered in grime so thick his hair is starting to look dark brown, only a few strands of golden blonde peeking through. His stomach growls and he curls up tighter, back pressed against the cold dumpster.

It’s a few weeks shy of winter with the clouds hanging heavy in the air, a constant threat of what’s to come.

A small shout echoes around the alley as Tommy hears the beginning of a spat. He desperately hopes they don’t get further in the alley and accidentally bring him into the scuffle.

With no admins to keep the rules in place, players are free to thieve, assault, or murder in desperation for food.

Tubbo’s out on a run right now, targeting some of the neighborhoods that have a few scraps of food. Tommy hopes the ram hybrid manages to snag a bowl of soup, he’s been craving mushrooms for the past month.

Flesh hits flesh and then there’s a distinctive thump, Tommy knows the fight it over and waits with bated breath as clothes ruffle. He knows the winner is diligently looking through pockets, hoping to find anything that could hold some value.

A breathy laugh and then there’s quick footsteps as they leave with whatever goods they found. Tommy waits a few more seconds just to be safe before peeking his head out from behind the dumpster.

A body is sprawled out on the ground, head tilted towards Tommy with their eyes closed. The skinny boy hesitantly crawls towards them, too weak to properly stand.

It’s why Tubbo was so desperate to find food, Tommy was deteriorating fast and he knew it was only a matter of time.

The closer he gets, Tommy realizes they're around the same age as him and Tubbo. Unease settles in his stomach as he realizes the likeness that an adult most likely purposefully targeted them.

Even if there were no rules, Tommy knew there was a good amount of players who still stuck to their morals. He wondered who was desperate enough to beat up a kid for probably only a few coins.

The teen finally reaches their head and bewilderedly looks around. What is he supposed to do now? Bruises are already forming on their skin and blood steadily gushes from their definitely broken nose.

Panic settles into his stomach so heavy it feels like a stone. Black dots dance around the edges of his vision and a familiar ringing pierces his skull. Tommy tenses and tries to survive the agony as he falls into a sitting position.

A low groan and small hiss of pain chases away his attack as he snaps his head to the player on the ground.

Their eyes are tightly squeezed and their sharp teeth are pressed together as their tail flicks next to them.

Tommy winces in sympathy and keeps his hand hovered over them, just in case they need help.

In the street, players continue to pass by the alley begging for food, not pausing to look at the pair in the alley.

Coughing against the dirt stuck in his throat, Tommy manages to croak out, “Are you okay?” He internally curses at himself, of course they’re not okay!

“I won’t lie, I could be better,” They mumble out so dazedly that Tommy starts to fear they might have a concussion.

He forces his lips upwards as mismatched eyes slowly scan his face. All they do is groan again before lifting their head forward and trying to drag their body up into a sitting position.

Tommy lets out a small yelp and grabs their arm, gently pulling them upwards. They’re tall, towering over Tommy as they both sit next to each other,

“Hi, I’m Tommy.” He rasps out.

Overwhelming panic fills their eyes before it settles into a more neutral position. If Tommy wasn’t looking, he wouldn’t have noticed it at all.

“I’m Ranboo.” They- Ranboo coughs out, blood dribbling down his face from his nose.

Before he can stop himself, “That guy really beat the shit out of you,” He blurts out. He flushes in embarrassment and keeps his head down, fingers fiddling with each other.

Ranboo laughs, shoulders shaking as he softly shakes his head. “Yeah, he did.”

“Sorry! That came out worse than I expected.” Ranboo shrugs as Tommy mumbles.

“Ehh, you were just saying what we both were thinking.” Ranboo’s ears flick as he talks and Tommy notices they are long and pointed.

Ranboo follows Tommy’s line of sight and involuntarily flattens his ears in shame.

“Oh, I wasn’t trying to make you self-conscious!”

Ranboo doesn’t reply.

Tommy feels frustration surge through him at his own social inadequacy. “I- what type of hybrid are you?” He prays Ranboo can hear his curiosity and hopes the boy doesn’t think he’s being mocked.

His prayers are answered when Ranboo’s eyes light up for a second. He answers way more confidently then Tommy expects him too. “I’m an enderman hybrid.”

He blinks in astonishment before uttering out a small wow. Endermen hybrids are rare and even then, Tommy’s sure they’re typically all black. Ranboo’s half white and half black skin glows in the semi-darkness of the alley.

“That’s really cool,” He says sincerely.

Vulnerability flashes in his red and green eyes, “Not many people would sa-.”

He breaks himself off, head turning up towards the sky. Tommy follows him, tilting his head in confusion as the sky flickers.

Gasps are heard from the street as players in the crossroads pause to look up.

“I know I haven’t been in the crosswords long…but that’s not right.” The teen mutters.

“Shit.” Ranboo curses and stands up, ignoring his injuries like they didn’t bother him at all. Tommy watches with wild eyes as snow begins to lazily fall around them.

“What-?” Tommy tries to push himself up, concerned for his new friend’s safety. Standing up so quickly after that beat down is not a good idea.

“We don’t have time.” Emotions swirl around in Ranboo’s eyes as an enderman hybrid maintains uncomfortable eye contact. “Sit back down.”

Tommy does, emotions and thoughts numbing when a direct order is given, just like a good little soldier.

“Ignoring this is only making it worse, Tommy. I know how traumatized you are…”

“Stop.” Tears spring from dull blue eyes, painting trails down his cheeks and clearing away some grime.

“I wish I could. But you still have a piece of self-preservation buried deep somewhere.” Ranboo’s hands clasp together.

Pieces come together in Tommy’s fraying mind and he gasps before glaring daggers at the hybrid. “You did this on purpose,” He accuses.

Ranboo shrugs indifferently. “I couldn’t get near you any other way. Listen Tommy, you need to face it!”

“Stop!” He hisses, hands darting to his ears as ringing surrounds him from all sides. He shivers from the cold, snow covering everything except Ranboo, who is unaffected by the dramatic change in weather.

Blood streams from his ears, coating his hands and dripping down the sides of his face.

He curls forward, forehead pressed against the hard dirt ground. He manages a quick glance up and sees such disappointment and pity he can’t help but flinch back.

His teeth chatter while his shoulders shake, snow covering every exposed part of him.

Ranboo doesn’t say anything, just looks up to the sky and sighs while smoke rises up from the tears that burn his face.

Tommy only cries harder until black dots cover his vision in a frenzy.

Chapter Text

The streets are filled to the brim with citizens, travelers, and vendors as news of the city-wide market reaches and attracts the rest of the nation.

Tommy can’t keep the smile off his face as he tries to make his way down Main St. It’s breathtaking seeing L’manburg so full of life and happiness.

Chancing a glance down at his communicator, Tommy’s eyes widen and he rushes his pace, no longer stopping to admire the banners that proudly blow in the wind. .

Tubbo will be out of the cabinet meeting soon and Tommy wants to maximize his time with his friend. Since the ram hybrid became mayor, it has gotten harder for them to hang out.

Don’t get him wrong, the blonde couldn’t be any prouder of his friend but after getting their plans canceled at the last minute three times in a row, Tommy feels a little resentful towards L’manburg’s many needs.

Ahead of him, the town hall glows with pride, marbled pillars glinting in the afternoon sun.

Those who came out of town are toeing the bottom of the stairs, glancing up at the building with wonder-filled eyes. It’s well-known around the Antartic Kingdom that L’manburg’s capital is one of the grandest in the nation.

He pushes through the crowd, approaching the Head of Security, who is currently trying to calm the crowd down so they didn’t unintentionally storm the capital.

“Hey Jack!” Tommy says brightly.

Jack quickly glances over, smiling when he recognizes the teen. “Hey Tommy! You’re just in time, the meeting is coming to a close.” He gestures for some of the guards to make space for Tommy to go through.

He beams at his friend and darts a few steps up the stairs before calling out, “Keep up the good work!” He quickly bounds up the stairs and grabs the handle to one of the large marble doors.

It takes a bit of pulling before it groans open and Tommy hears shouts of exclamation behind him as the tourists watch.

He hurries in and lets the door shut with a muffled thump. Sally looks up from her desk and waves in greeting.

“Tommy! How are you?”

“Doing good, I’m here to take Tubbo out to lunch.”

Sally nods, strawberry colored hair swaying. “He briefly mentioned that. How is the garden?”

Tommy thinks back to his home, hidden away in L’manburg’s surrounding forest. He recently redid his garden, adding more room in the yard for Henry to run around in. Sally likes to grow small herbs in her apartment, the pair frequently share tips with each other.

“It’s going great. The carrots settled into their new home nicely. Almost time for harvest.”

The secretary beams at the news, “That’s gonna be great!” She glances at the clock on the wall, “They should be done by now, you can go in.”

On cue, the double doors on the left burst open, Fundy and Eret walking out with twin grins on their faces.

The fox hybrid waves when he notices Tommy, ears flicking happily. The blonde waves back at the pair and gives small greetings to the other officials that pass by.

Tommy waits patiently as the officials pass by, bouncing on his feet when he notices a familiar beanie and can’t stop himself from running towards his friend.

“Big Q!”

“Tommy!” The two embrace, laughing. It had been a while since Tommy last saw the assistant mayor.

As they break apart, Quackity ruffles the blonde's curls. Tommy squawks and backs up, trying to fix his birdsnest.

“Still up to the same shenanigans I see,” He huffs, feigning annoyance.

Quackity sees right through it but offers a sheepish smile nonetheless. “You should see how I am at home.”

“I feel so bad for Sapnap and Karl,” Tommy deadpans.

Quackity gasps, putting a hand up to his heart and blinking in betrayal.

“Quackity!” They both turn their heads towards the conference room. “Stop stealing my friend!”

“He’s my friend too!” He hollers back. “But he’s right, I'll let you get going. Bye Tommy.”

“Bye Big Q,” They quickly embrace one more time. Tommy walks into the conference room, barely getting a chance to take a breath before he’s getting tightly hugged by his best friend.

Tommy stands still in shock for one moment before he’s hugging back just as tightly, Tubbo’s horns barely scraping against his chin.

Tommy can’t remember the last time he felt this content; L’manburg is striving with Tubbo being mayor and Tommy gets to live peacefully with Henry, mostly unbothered.

It’s perfect.

They break up after a few moments, taking a minute to just enjoy each other's company. The ram hybrid blinks and grins.

“I forgot my coat in my office, wanna come with me?”

“Of course,” Tommy affectionately rolls his eyes at the question.

Tubbo nods and quickly gathers up his papers from the wooden table, exiting the conference room with Tommy in tow. They both nod towards Sally and make their way up one of the grand staircase cases to the second floor.

Tommy beelines towards Tubbo’s office, familiar with the route from how many times he’s been there.

While he’s not a government official, most government positions know who he is, since he was running around the building with Tubbo when they were kids. Somehow, town hall had become a second home to him, Schlatt’s house being the first.

Even if they weren’t blood related, Jschlatt took him in with open arms after Tubbo informed his father of Tommy’s predicament.

Sorrow numbs the edges of his heart; Schlatt’s death was brutal. He may have been a bad man, but the humiliation of being at your lowest, surrounded by alcohol, while the whole server watched… Tommy wouldn't wish that fate on anyone.

Good thing Schlatt never drank. In fact, he was one of L’manburg’s best mayors. How could Tommy forget?

He was a beloved figure in the nation and when he honorably passed, helping put out an unprecedented number of fires that ravaged the city, the entirety of the kingdom mourned.

“You coming?” Tommy blinked, looking at Tubbo who was standing in his office, arms folded and looking at him with concern. “Are you okay? You spaced out on me.”

The teen quickly shook his head, shaking away his bizarre thoughts. “I’m good, just thinking about the fact that we’ve been here since we were kids.”

Tommy takes a seat in one of the chairs, watching as Tubbo puts away his documents.

“It is totally weird.”

“How did the meeting go?” Tommy lifts his feet up, resting them on the table as he leans back.

Tubbo sighs. “It was long, we covered a lot.” Tommy hums, long cabinet meetings were the worst. “We talked about the market and about the crime rate.”

“The crime rate?” Tommy echoes. As far as he knew, L’manburg didn’t experience a lot of crime. It was considered one of the safer cities.

As if reading his mind, Tubbo takes a seat in his chair and offers an explanation, “There’s been this criminal… they’re causing a lot of trouble.”

“You haven’t been able to find him?” Tubbo shakes his head.

“Jack’s been losing his mind about it. He’s scared they might try to hit the capital next since our police force keeps missing them.” Tommy huffs at the absurdity of it.

“There’s no way. Town hall is practically unbreachable.” Tubbo only gives him a lifted eyebrow in response and it has Tommy’s confidence lowering drastically.

The blonde quickly plows on, “Let me guess, they’re behind those random explosions.” Over the past month, there were three random explosions; luckily no one was killed and it mostly damaged old and unstable buildings.

“It seems they weren’t as random as we originally thought,” Tubbo leans forward, clasping his hands. “Pipe Bombs.”

Tommy shudders. Pipe bombs are hard to obtain; it takes a lot of gunpowder to create one and there’s been a well-known shortage in the kingdom for years.

A vivid image forces its way to the forefront of his mind and Tommy feels the overwhelming urge to share it with his best friend, practically brother.

He focuses on his trembling hands, “They’re a brunette, aren’t they? Probably wears a long-ass trench coat with the stupidest dark gray beanie.” He knows he’s right, all Tommy needs to do is look up to see Tubbo’s shocked face as he nods.

Tommy looks up and sees nothing but pure confusion. Tommy waits patiently as his friend takes a minute to process what he said.

“I- where did you get that from?” Tommy shrugs, he doesn’t know where it came from. It just felt right. “Well, you’re actually really wrong.”

His mind goes blank, uncomprehending. That’s not right.

“Reports say they have dirty blonde hair.” Purpled then. “And they also wear green.” Oh, Tommy thinks, it’s Phil.

Uh- er, he doesn’t know who it is. It doesn’t make sense for him to know who it is.

Tubbo continues, unaware of Tommy’s inner-dilemma. “But the kicker is… people are reporting that they wear this weird mask. It’s white and has a-” Tommy coughs, choking on air.

Tubbo pauses, standing up in alarm and going over to thump on his back.

Tears unabashedly stream from his eyes as he pushes back his chair and falls to his knees. Tommy screams; it's full of anguish and despair. It’s so loud that Tubbo jumps back and covers his sensitive ram ears and they pin against his head.

The damned ringing taunts Tommy, muffling his own yelling and crying.

He’s not in control.

“TOMMY!” Tubbo shouts, the broken teen doesn’t notice.

He’s not in control.

The mayor grimaces, taking a shaky step forward as he continues to cover his ears and shield himself from Tommy’s loud sobbing and screaming.

He wouldn’t have chosen that. He’s not in control.

Tubbo glances at the black and white endermen who stands calmly in the corner, head tilted with sympathy and dismay. The ram clenches his jaw and pushes forward, falling onto his knees next to his friend.

He tries to break through, “I don’t know what’s going on…” Tears stream down his face in sync with Tommy’s.

“But what I do know is that I checked the logs this morning for no reason,” The enderman shifts, leaning forward just a fraction as his ears perk. “Your code... I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Tommy doesn’t hear, the ringing in his ears won’t let him as blood slowly seeps down the side of his face. He lets the numbing cold surround him and clamps his eyes shut.

Chapter Text

“Tommy, are you okay?”

He blinks himself out of the trance he accidentally fell in, looking over at Sapnap’s concerned face and nervously rubs the back of his neck.

“I’m okay! I randomly zone out sometimes, nothing to worry about.”

The raven-haired man lifts an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

Tommy quickly nods, a dusting of pale pink coloring his cheeks. Not even a week on the server and he’s already embarrassing himself in front of an owner.

He feels sweat gather at the base of his neck as the sun continues to ruthlessly beat down on them.

Sapnap fractionally relaxes, “George and I are gonna collect some materials to finish the community house. Wanna help build it when we come back?”

Tommy beams, “Yes!” He shouts enthusiastically. Sapnap laughs and ruffles the teens hair, uncaring of the teen’s protests.

“See you later, Toms!” Sapnap calls back as he makes his ways down the wooden path.

The server is still new, only a few members have been invited but Tommy can already imagine how much fun the server will be. The GAS SMP is meant to be a place for healing, especially for players who were stuck in crossroads.

When Sapnap found him huddled up in an alleyway, the older boy had crouched down to him, hands up in a placating gesture. “I own a server, a place to help those stuck in bad situations in the crossroads. We could always use more members…”

Tommy took it, dragging Tubbo along with him, much to the delight of George and Sapnap. “We can always use more members,” They had said.

“You’re zoning out again, big man.” Tommy startles, spinning around to see Tubbo.

“I don’t know why that keeps happening.” He frowns, cutting himself off as his face scrunches in confusion. “Where are your horns?”

Alarm flashes through Tubbo’s features and he slowly takes a few steps forward to grab Tommy’s arms. The taller boy is sure they’ll be bruises. “What are you talking about Tommy?”

Not funny, “Your ram horns? Your major hybrid trait, where did they go?”

“Tommy,” Tubbo keeps his voice low and speaks slowly, like talking to a 5 year-old, “I’m not a hybrid. I’ve never been a hybrid.”

He’s not in control.

He blinks and offers a lazy smile. “You’re right Tubbo, I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s been a long day.”

“Do you want to lay down? There’s a bed at the community house.”

“No way! There’s things we gotta do today. I’m fine.” He tries to lift his head and shoulders in an attempt to look confident. Being weighed down by the weight of the world was exhausting.

“Okay...” Tubbo says, doubtful. “What’s on the agenda?”

“We have to visit the P brothers-

“Don’t call them that.”

“-to get the pickaxe they borrowed from George.”

“Sounds easy enough, then you can take a nap.” Tubbo says cheerily, already turning around and walking down the wooden path towards the half-built community house.

“I’m not taking a nap,” Tommy complains, following the ram- human, the human player towards the center of the server. Tubbo only hums in disbelief.

The pair admire George’s architectural ability as they walk through. The crafting table floor offers a fascinating interior decor; George and Punz had done it last night to prank Sapnap after a funny joke with one.

He remembers how hard the three teens had laughed, wheezing and falling on top of each other at Sapnap’s horrified face.

On the other side of the community house, Punz and Purpled’s half-built log cabin stands proudly against the edge of the pine forest.

Two small white tents are pitched next to the cabin, a fire merrily cracking between them as Punz leans down next to it, no doubt making lunch. Tommy doesn’t know how the older man isn’t dying from heat stroke.

“Punz!” Tubbo waves and Tommy follows the gesture. Punz looks over and quickly gets up, brushing off his pants.

“Hey guys, what’s up?”

“George said you borrowed his pickaxe, he was hoping to get it back,” Tommy explains.

Punz nods and looks over to one of the white tents, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Peached!”

“What?” Tommy blurts. Tubbo looks over at his friend questioningly when Tommy’s face doesn’t change from a disturbed expression.

“Peached! Tommy and Tubbo are here, they need George’s pickaxe!” Punz doesn’t pay the two boys any mind.

“What’s wrong, Tommy?” Tubbo slightly leans over and mutters quietly.

It’s all wrong. He’s not in control.

A boy in a peach colored hoodie steps out of the lime green tent, iron pickaxe in hand and eyes glinting with mischief.

“I’m here, I’m here! No need to freak out Punz.” The younger boy huffs and turns to Tommy and Tubbo. “How’s everything?”

Tubbo bounces on his toes, “Good! The server is really coming along!”

Tommy clears his throat, “I like the cabin.”

Pur-Peached and Punz both beam at the praise.

“Thanks! It’s gonna be great when we finish.” Punz turns to Peached and scowls. “We’d finish earlier if someone helped.”

Peached squawks indignantly. “I’ve done nothing but chop down trees for 3 days! Where do you think all your building material is coming from?”

Tubbo laughs, Tommy following along and praying it doesn’t sound forced. “Well, we better get the pickaxe to George,” Tommy nods towards the pickaxe held firmly by Peached.

The sandy blonde boy nods, handing it over to Tubbo’s waiting hands.

“Tell George thank you for us!” Punz says as he turns back to the fire where scrambled eggs are getting burnt.

“Will do! Have a good one!” Tubbo says cheerily and waves goodbye before skipping back down the wooden path with Tommy quietly following behind him.

It isn’t until there a nice distance away that Tubbo stops skipping and turns towards Tommy, expression murderous. “Tell me what's wrong, now.”

Tommy studies the wooden path for a moment longer until he looks up, tears spilling down his face.

Tubbo doesn’t seem shocked to see him crying, the brunette only tilts his head.

A weight settles in the pit of his stomach as Tommy tries to search for the right words. “You know how…” He pauses and rethinks, “Do you ever feel like the world you're living in is slightly wrong. Not enough to be concerned about but just enough to know it's not right?”

The pickaxe swings down to his best friend's side, gently swaying in Tubbo’s loose grip as he blankly stares at the sky in thought.

He blinks and looks back towards Tommy and shakes his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about big man.” He admits.

The weight drags at his stomach. The starving teen hastily wipes his face and pushes past the emotion lodged in his throat. “Don’t worry about it,” He whispers. “I’m not making any sense.”

He closes his eyes; the sun shines just a little brighter and Tubbo’s anxious and concerned expression relaxes.

“There you guys are!” A familiar british accent calls and Tommy looks over Tubbo’s shoulder to see the owners of the GAS Smp.

Tubbo turns, “Hey guys!” He lifts the pickaxe. “George, we got your pickaxe back from Peached!” He says happily.

Annoyingly happy. The sun shines a little too brightly. Sapnap’s bandana is dark gray.

He’s not in control.

“Thanks!” George grabs the pickaxe from Tubbo, twisting it in his hands.

Sapnap clears his throat, “Guess who we found wandering the server!” He shifts to the side, revealing a man in a reindeer onesie.

“Callahan!” Tubbo exclaims happily, lunging forward and giving him a hug that Callahan fiercely returns.

As he rests his head on Tubbo’s shoulder, he looks up and makes eye contact with Tommy.

Knowledge shines in the admin’s eyes, they glimmer with red and green. Tommy quickly looks down, hands shaking.

Tubbo and ‘Callahan’ break apart as George opens his communicator. “Callahan was looking at the server’s coding, making sure everything is running smoothly…”

“Is it?” Tubbo asks curiously.

Callahan whips out his own communicator, hands furiously typing until a small ping echoes around them. Tommy forces his hands to still and steadily grabs his communicator, looking at the message.

Callahan: Everything seems to be in order, except for one small oddity.

Sapnap looks over at the admin, “What’s the oddity?”

Callahan: Well…

“Callahan,” George says warningly.

Callahan: There’s weird code.

“Weird code?” George questions, leaning towards Callahan as Tubbo gasps.

Sapnap sighs and crosses his arms. “This is not good,” He mumbles to himself. Tommy still manages to hear it but wisely keeps his mouth shut. “Not good at all.” Louder, “What code is it, Cal?”

Callahan pauses, then slides his fingers across the communicator’s screen as he types.

Call@&!#: #$%@!*$

Dark crimson slowly drips down the side of Tommy’s face from his ears. He sniffs and feels the thick liquid leak down the front of his face, past his lips and off his chin as his nose continues to bleed uncontrollably.

No one notices. “Can you say that again, Cal?” George asks politely, three pairs of eyes locked on the boy in the reindeer onesie.

Ranboo: Tommy’s

Callahan is gone; there’s only an enderman who watches in resignation as the blonde’s blood pitter patters against the wood and forms a small puddle.

Tommy watches the puddle grow, breath caught in his lungs. His body craves oxygen, crying out for it until he finally remembers how to breathe.

Tommy gasps

Chapter Text

and quickly breaks the surface of the water. He desperately kicks his legs, fighting against the waves and toward blurry land as his eyes refuse to focus.

He’s coughing and sputtering, water spraying out of his mouth and making him feel light-headed and ill.

His vision is swimming and nauseous churns his gut. As he fights to keep his head above water, he starts to make out a figure that’s calmly sitting by the endless ocean.

For some reason, Tommy feels a strong surety that they’re waiting for him. The half-beaten and starved teen kicks harder, uses the waves to propel him towards solid ground.

It’s when he’s just a few blocks away that Tommy recognizes who it is.

Ranboo continues to wait for him, claw-like hands idly picking at a small allium that somehow managed to peek its way through the sand. He’s wearing his signature suit, sun glinting off his crown.

When the blonde finally reaches his friend, he’s crawling on his hands and knees, coughing up salty water and whimpering against his burning throat. Tommy’s suddenly completely dry, he isn’t shocked by this.

Taking a few moments to appreciate the fresh air he breathes in, dull blue eyes start to scan his surroundings.

He recognizes the hill, the plain, the shore, and the forest right away and wishes that back then, he had left it untouched by mankind.

There’s no sign of Tommy having ever lived there but after everything that had happened, Tommy still finds himself barely able to look at it without his stomach curling up in shame.

It was beautiful land too.

He chooses to keep his head down and turns his body back towards the ocean, watching his feet be momentarily covered in sand as he sits next to his friend turned enemy.

“You're the one making me an enemy.” There’s no malice, it’s a mere observation. Tommy keeps his mouth firmly shut.

He throws his arms over his bloody knees, chin resting on top of them. His entire body throbs in pain and his ears still distantly ring, a haunting sound that Tommy knows might never go away.

“It’s pretty common to become temporarily or permanently deaf after being so close to an explosion,” Ranboo says matter of factly, voice carried by the wind.

Something dark and sad twists his heart and Tommy’s throat constricts, he feels bile and water rise up but he manages to rein it back in just in time.

His throat is sore from the water and thick ash but he pushes on, “I read that in a fact book that Techno had bought me for my 9th birthday.”

The memory is held closely to his heart. Tommy had cherished that book for years and cried for hours when it got lost. Techno promised he’d buy him a new and better book to replace it; he never did.

The enderman hybrid nods, “Well, it’s come in handy.”

Tommy blinks against the light of the sun, looking across the water as Ranboo continues to absently pick at the purple flower.

Finally, “Why you?”

The taller boy shrugs, “You must’ve seen me as friendly or neutral. A good representative, if you will.”

“If I just change the scenery-”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news but you can’t ignore this forever.”

Tommy’s shudders, hands ghosting over the scratches that litter his arms. “I don’t want this,” Vulnerability cracks the sentence in half.

“I’m sorry, but there’s a reason I exist.”

“To offer me another form of torture?” Tommy huffs, the closest thing to laughter he can manage.

“There’s some self-preservation somewhere. A part of you that doesn’t want this.” Ranboo insists, abandoning the flower to look over at Tommy.

“I’m happy here.”

The hybrid shakes his head, “Not really. You just think you are.”

The sky flickers and the afternoon sun that shone brightly in the center of the sky lowers until it's a blazing disc bathing the world in hues of orange and red as half of it disappears behind the horizon.

The world looks like it’s on fire.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not in control.”

“You still have a chance,” The taller boy murmurs, “But not if you stay on this merry-go-round of broken promises.” Rays of light reflect off of Ranboo, making it look as if he was glowing.

There’s no words he can respond with, rather Tommy takes a moment to look behind him at the empty plain.

Ranboo turns too and they silently watch as blocks appear out of nowhere and form shapes. Familiar walls form, its wooden logs reaching towards the sky.

Wool forms into the shape of a tent, the sun painting it dark orange. Just as quickly as the buildings form, pieces start to disappear again until Logstedshire looks like randomly placed blocks centered around cratered holes.

He’s defeated and cold; so unbearably cold. Snow starts to lightly fall around them and Tommy looks up, taking a moment to examine the snow.

Except, now that he’s taken time to inspect the small flakes, it’s not snow at all. It’s ash.

It’s thick, continually falling down with no end in sight. The small particles clings to his lungs as he tries to breathe are the suffocating air. Tommy coughs and jokes, chunks of wet ash flinging out of his mouth.

Around him the world flickers; blocks glitching in and out of existence until what was left of Logstedshire is reduced to even less. Even so, smoke steadily rises from the remaining blocks, a mockery of what happened.

He feels his clothes rip, tearing themselves to shreds and allowing the freezing cold to pierce his skin.

He struggles, gasping for air and clawing at his raw throat in desperation. The smoke and ash are still flying in the air, covering up the sky until it’s a giant cloud of black smog.

A soft hand lands on his shoulder and he looks over as tears burn trails down Ranboo’s face. He feels his own tears creating streaks through the ash dirtying his face.

“You didn’t deserve this,” Ranboo says. “I’m sorry.”

Everything grows darker, an endless black that is so familiar it hurts. In the blink of an eye everything’s gone; the ocean, Logstedshire, Ranboo, the ash.

Tommy’s left in nothingness and his arms tighten around himself in a puny attempt at comfort. All that’s left is the cold as it constantly nips at his fingers and toes, turning them blue but never causing lasting harm.

The thought of spending eternity here… it’s too much and all Tommy can do is hugs himself harder while he cries, rocking back and forth.

There’s a pull on his chest, an aching similar to the feeling of your heart squeezing when faced with grief. The timing is wrong, Tommy knows it’s too soon but it doesn’t matter, he can’t fight it anyway.

He imagines a bright green string wrapped around his heart that’s getting pulled taut. He doesn’t fight; he just lets himself get pulled backwards into the darkness.

Something in him snaps.

Chapter Text

Despite popular belief, Tommy had been good friends with Bad and Skeppy. Sure, in front of an audience he liked to pretend the only reason he was around them was to annoy them, but in private, he was able to have lengthy conversations and questions without judgment.

Those conversations came in handy, especially after-

Tommy blinks and sits up a little straighter, back sore from the hard wood of the chair. A familiar figure walks towards the table from the kitchen and carefully sets a steaming mug down.

After months, everyone's favorite couple finally managed to get over half the mansion furnished. Tommy thought the new furniture pieces added more character to the empty building.

“There you go, I made it with honey lavender.” The demon says, taking a seat at the table across from Tommy and holding his own mug between his dark claw-like hands.

Tommy reaches out to grab his drink and sips at it while it cools down. After a successful small sip without burning his tongue, he looks over at Bad with what he hopes is gratitude shining in his eyes. “These were some of my favorite memories.”

Bad tilts his head, glowing white eyes slightly squinting in confusion. “What do you mean, Tommy?”

Grief hits him like a train and the bandages tightly wrapped around his arms sting. “It’s nothing,” He chokes out and swiftly changes the topic, “I need your help.” Or his own help, he guesses.

It seems like everything’s always toeing the line between making sense and total insanity these days.

Badboyhalo brightens and his sharp fangs shine in the dim light of the torches as he beams. “Of course, muffinhead! How can I help?”

“On one of our visits, you and Skeppy told me you were both past server owners and that they were pretty big servers too.” Bad takes a moment to think before nodding.

“I remember that conservation, you said it must’ve been hard keeping track of all that code and that me and Skeppy must’ve been pretty skilled.” Bad’s voice softens as he finishes and Tommy watches as his dark skin blushes from the compliment.

Tommy wasn’t one to offer much praise, he remembers how anxious he had been in his mind about saying it. He was so glad he did, especially when Bad decided to make chocolate muffins as a celebration.

“In those next few weeks, you taught me a lot of things about server coding and coding in general.” The blonde unconsciously leans forward onto the table, praying that Bad knows what he’s referring to.

Bad tilts his head again as he tries to conjure up some memory referring to teaching Tommy how to code. The teen feels his heart starting to drop.

“There must be something, anything! That was weeks worth of learning.” Tommy says in disbelief. How did he forget?

The cloaked demon looks back at Tommy with sympathy. “Was there a certain lesson? Maybe that will help.”

Frustration claws at his stomach but he pushes it down, gritting his teeth.

“Are you mad?” Bad’s voice has gotten impossibly small. “I’m sorry.”

Tommy forces his feelings down and shakes his head; he could never be mad at his friend, real or not. However, the self-depreciation levels have skyrocketed. Slowly, “I think there’s something wrong with my code.”

Bad’s claws clench the mug tightly.

Tommy plows on, “How do I check someone’s code in a server that’s not mine?”

Knowledge makes the demon’s eyes grow even brighter until it’s blinding and Tommy’s forced to squint. “There’s a way…”

Finally some good news!

“But you can’t do it.”

Disappointment dashes his hopes just as fast. “What do you mean?” Tommy asks venomously.

“There’s a backdoor system for all servers,” Blinding emerald green eyes shine behind the cloak. He blinks; Bad’s eyes are white. “But you’re not on the server.”

Tommy stares a hole into his mug. “I wouldn’t exist if I wasn’t in this damned server.” When he learned what had happened to their code, in order to have only three lives, Tommy had run home and quietly cried for hours.

He hated him.

Bad breaks the moment of silence after a small sip of his tea, “I said on, not in.”

Tommy looks back up, “Is there a difference?”

“In our case, yes.” Bad’s mug is green, Tommy hates it. “We know why our code is glitching, but you don’t.”

“That doesn’t make sense!”

His friend’s smile turns sharp and his eyes grow dimmer until they’re a dark gray. With a low voice that sends shivers down Tommy’s spine, the demon says gruffly, “Memories are a tricky thing.”

The view glitches- the mansion is long gone; they’re sat in a field with only the table and chairs to keep them company. Bad- or whatever the demon thing was melts in the sunlight.

Only a black blob is left in Bad’s place, there’s no discernible eyes or mouth and Tommy would think it’s inanimate if not for obvious breathing it does.

His ears start to ring, but there’s no sound to miss anyway. The birds had already stopped chirping, the wind no longer blowing.

It’s cold; on a bright spring day in the sun, Tommy is freezing. He knows anyone with common sense would run as far as they could from whatever was happening but the teen is stuck in place. The situation is too similar for him to leave, not when he’s so close to figuring this out.

Doubt lingers; there’s no going back. It’s too late.

He could get answers-

Snow falls, the only thing cold enough that could even come close to the freezing stiffness in his bones. The sky is devoid of the sun; the horizon is an endless black sky that meets the dark ground seamlessly.

The dark mass rumbles as its chair starts to smoke and hiss, the wood burning away as if touching acid.

The darkness expands, surrounding him and the figure until it’s all encompassing. Panic seizes the teen’s chest and the darkness continues to cover the world.

Gray eyes the size of pinpricks blaze through the shape in front of him, the only other color in the world than the all-consuming black.

Don’t pretend you don’t know this embrace like you know your own soul.

Heart beating wildly, his chest tightens until all Tommy can do is try to cough in an attempt to alleviate the crushing weight. He watches as a new color joins the black and gray as it pours out of his mouth; the blood covers his front.

It stains his body like paint on a clear canvas.

The goo figure multiplies; hundreds of shapeless beings surrounding him until Tommy can’t tell himself apart from the masses. They’re everywhere, some with enough shape for him to barely make out open mouths that let out soundless screams of agony.

He’s as shapeless as them, a lumpy form serving as a canvas for his past mistakes as its blood continues to act as the paint.

The only sensation it feels is the temperature, the only thing that keeps it sane as it shivers. The cold reminds it that it was a thing once- a being who could see and hear and smell and feel.

The past, the future, the present; it doesn’t matter. It forgets itself, who it was and who it could’ve been. Memories lost to this world.

Somehow, limbo get’s impossibly colder and it’s just enough to keep it sane. Just barely enough.

Chapter Text

Tommy remembers strings, silken things weaved full of color. It was more color than he had seen in decades.

They came from nowhere, floating innocently down and meeting Tommy’s blurry hand. He watched in fascination as they swirled around his shapeless hand, circling his wrist. He didn’t see the other strings, only knew they were there when they tightened and yanked, pulling him through crowds of shapeless forms until the blackness was far behind him.

It was the most he had felt since being there.

He stares at the bright clear sky, hands folded beneath his head, acting as a cushion. His front lawn is full of flowers, beautiful colors that he carefully avoided until he lay in a spot of grass untouched by the delicate plants.

It’s calm and peaceful, possibly more peaceful than when he was a figure in the void.

Next to him, the grass shifts.

“I was never awake,” Tommy is surprised by his own voice as it breaks the silence. He doesn’t think he’ll get used to sound ever again. He never realized how loud other things were; the only thing drilled in his head throughout the years was how he was the only loud one.

“Your- our code glitched too much, it was too risky to wake you.” Sadness coats Ranboo’s words.

Tommy snorts at the irony from it, “Dream was never the type to care about my safety.”

He keeps his eyes glued to the sky; Tommy used to cloud watch with Wilbur but he was too young and impatient for it, always running around and screaming until Wilbur finally gave up and stopped trying. He wishes he appreciated those moments more.

“To a degree,” Tommy can hear the hesitation in his friend’s voice. Tommy doesn’t need to be a scientist to figure it out.

It’s a quiet murmur, way too soft for the words he’s saying, “He can’t actually get rid of his plaything. What fun would that be?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re- No, we’re not the fucked up psychopath here. Contrary to popular belief.” Tommy counts it as a win to hear Ranboo’s snort. It’s slightly off- Tommy hasn’t heard the hybrid genuinely laugh until at least before exile. He’ll never get it to sound just right, just like how everything in this warped reality will always be slightly wrong.

And then of course there’s the fucking glitching that crumbles his carefully crafted hopes faster than when Dream would destroy his things.

Tommy continues, “I talked to Bad; he didn’t give me any answers. Those were the only memories that would’ve held information that could’ve helped us.”

Ranboo lets out a small hum, “I don’t know- I think you gained a lot from that one. In the beginning and the end.”

“You saw.” It’s not a question.

“Just because I’m not there doesn’t mean I’m not there.”

It’s better to just let it go, he’s so goddamn tired of being constantly confused and afraid. “What do we do now?”

“Reminisce.” Ranboo says it so plainly, like it's the easiest thing to do in the world. Tommy doesn’t know if the sound he made was more of a sob or a laugh. “I’m serious, what do you know so far?”

Well first, a deep steadying breath. “Skipping my past, I joined the server. Dream messed with our code.”

“What did he do?” His friend’s voice is gentle and all Tommy wants to do is scream.

“Don’t patronize me.” He winces as he says it; Ranboo flinches enough that Tommy continues noticeably quieter, “He made it so we couldn’t leave. I’m not sure exactly what happened but Skeppy mentioned once that it had to do with the three lives system.”

He remembers how angry Skeppy and Bad had been when they explained it. He asked them on one of their visits about what exactly happened to everyone’s code. They seemed so surprised that Tommy knew anything about it.

Apparently, Dream kept it pretty hush hush. It seems the green prick didn’t pay enough attention to how much skill the couple needed to maintain their own servers.

He distantly wonders if their old servers are still up and running or if losing their owners for so long had shut them down.

Continuing, “All the wars happen, L’manburg blows up, blah blah blah.” The starved blonde pushes past the lump in his throat, “Tubbo- the president, exiles me for griefing.”

Tommy pauses for a moment, expecting a remark from Ranboo but only getting silence in response. “Dream, he uh, practically tortures me in exile. Manipulates and abuses me. Makes me throw all my stuff in a hole.”

No matter how hard he fights, tears still steadily leak out and run down the sides of his face.

“He starves me and beats me until I’m just a shell of who I was. And then I have the audacity to hold a stash, behind his back. My only friend, and I betrayed him.” It’s bitter and self-deprecating but Tommy doesn’t care. It’s the truth.

If he just listened, none of this would’ve even happened-

“Stop,” The endermen hybrid’s voice is firm, “Dream is a sadistic psychotic freak. He wasn’t your friend. I know it’s hard to believe, but he wasn’t and he never will be. Friend’s don’t do that, Tommy.”

Ranboo sits up quickly, forcing the other to stop looking upwards and turn his head. Purple meets blue and Tommy wonders how hard it is for Ranboo to keep this much eye contact.

“Dream was manipulative. He wasn’t your friend.” Ranboo pauses, like he’s expecting Tommy to say something. His throat feels dry but he forces it to convulse.

“He wasn’t my friend,” Tommy parrots and lets the words really register throughout his mind. Dream wasn’t his friend. He never was.

Tommy sits up quickly, “Dream wasn’t my friend.” Ranboo nods, blinking and looking down as he makes the revelation.

“What else happened?”

He feels more steady, like that was a major piece of the puzzle and Tommy has finally understood it. “He found the stash. Blew it up.”

The explosion was deafening, echoing and ringing in his ears as ash fell steadily around them in a surprisingly peaceful moment after everything had calmed down. Dream made sure he was as close as possible when the dynamite went off.

He’s terrified that the damage his ears took will never go away. Another thing Dream will have taken from him. The explosion had hurt him badly. He was covered in burns and cuts from fragments of Logstedshire; they covered his already bruised and severely malnourished body.

“He left me there, bleeding on the ground and barely clinging to life.”

“What did you do?” Ranboo sounds truthfully interested, like he doesn’t already know. Tommy starts to wonder how much this piece of himself does and doesn’t remember.

“I crawled towards the hill. There was no point of living, not after this…”

“It’s better to go on your own terms rather than let someone else take that fate from you.” Ranboo finishes for him.

It’s the echo of something Techno had told him, when he was just a little kid that hung onto his brother’s every word. Tommy had never forgotten it.

After this, his memory starts to get fuzzy, folding in on itself until the right order of events is so mixed up he’s not sure if it will ever truly be the correct sequence. “I died. I don’t know how far I made it, but the injuries from the explosion were too much.”

“You were already so malnourished and you hadn’t slept peacefully in weeks. It’s no surprise the explosion took the last out of you,” Ranboo says and Tommy doesn’t think he could’ve worded it any better.

“The peace everyone says you get when you die, it’s not real.” Bitterness coats Tommy’s every word. Dying- It’s agony, a never-ending darkness full of other shapeless beings that are in as much pain- if not more, than you.

“There’s peace in the void.” Tommy knows that what Ranboo is saying is the truth but it’s hard to believe the void really exists after this.

Mulling over, Tommy finally reaches a conclusion that was so obvious he doesn’t know how he hadn’t known it beforehand. “I wasn’t on the server.” Ranboo nods. “I…I was stuck in the void, like Wilbur.”

“Not exactly,” The hybrid’s voice is gentle, like a teacher correcting a student. “You’re right, a piece of Wilbur is already in the void while the other piece is here. But what you were in… some would call it limbo, just a different form from what most expect.”

“So I got the bad form?”

“There’s not really a bad form,” Ranboo’s voice melds into Phil’s, a memory so deeply buried he’d forgotten it existed.

“There’s hundreds of forms of limbo, some would be considered nicer than others,” Phil says while he rocks Tommy back and forth.

The little boy had a nightmare about the colorless land that went on forever, something that isn’t uncommon after you’ve seen so much death. And he’d seen a fair amount of it.

“I don’t want to be in limbo,” Tommy whines, tears dripping down his face while he snuggles deeper under Phil’s chin.

“You won’t,” Phil’s voice sounds so confident and soothing while his wings unconsciously start to wrap over the 8-year old, “When it’s your time, you’ll have a wonderful spot by Kristen’s side, she’ll take care of you. You’ll find peace in the void.”

Tommy believed him too. At least he had; it was a comfort Tommy used when he was stuck in the middle of countless wars and mortality seemed to be closing in on him. He blinks and looks back over at Ranboo’s waiting form.

Tommy continues; they both know better than to mention that little flashback, “I was stuck in that form of limbo for years and years and years.” It felt as if eternity and more had passed.

“...Something happened on the server. Dream must've found me, he revived me…” It’s the only logical conclusion but a part of Tommy still wishes he were wrong.

“The revive book,” The endermen’s voice is grave and his tail flicks back and forth, showing how much anxiety the book really brings him.

“It hurt.” It’s the only thing that comes to mind. Being revived had hurt, so much more than the burns from the explosion. More than being betrayed by your best friend, or by your brother. It was all of that combined.

Tommy supposes it was something neither of them were shocked about. In what world did getting your soul ripped out of limbo not hurt?

“Afterwards?” Somehow, Ranboo sounds even more interested than before.

The sky freezes and the sun is gone; the moon stays still as another wave of glitching hits them. As the fit passes, the grass from under them has dulled, dark splotches of brown covering them. The flowers are completely dead, shriveled petals forming a halo around their crippled stems.

Tommy ignores their landscape, “I got to be a normal teen. I got to curl up around a fireplace with my family after eating dinner together. I was taught how to ice skate and how to ride a horse.” He can’t stop the little hiccup that escapes him as new tears well up.

“Phil even carried me while flying. I got to have a normal life, one where it wasn’t fucked up and I wasn’t forced to learn things kids my age shouldn’t know,” Tommy can’t catch his breath, it’s shaky and fast but he’s too far in now to stop.

“All the villagers, my friends; they’d all tell me about their wonderful families and all these things they learned from their parents and siblings. The only exception was Tubbo.” Tubbo, his best friend, the one who ultimately led him to his death.

“We both know we can’t blame Tubbo for this,” Ranboo murmurs. “I know you already know- but it wasn’t real. They were valid hopes and perfect dreams, but you have to let them go.”

“You keep saying that.”

“I’ll keep reiterating until you listen.” The sky has lightened, navy blue changing over into a light form of lapus while the half moon remains unmoving and glowing brightly from its perch high in the sky.

“It won’t change the fact that my codes fucked. I’ll still be stuck here,” Tommy sniffles out.

“What makes your code glitch?”

“Nothing, it’s random.” There’s no reason for Tommy to think otherwise-

“Is it really random?”

Annoyance pulls at his stomach and Tommy can’t help but snap, “Yes! It’s not like I’m controlling it!”

Ranboo takes his attitude in stride, swiftly moving on without hesitance, “Maybe you’re not controlling it consciously. Has it ever occurred to you that our code will glitch more when you start to remember suppressed memories?”

Tommy finds himself speechless, was there really a correlation this whole time?

“You’ve remembered everything you’ve needed to. There’s nothing left to suppress.”

His hands are shaky and his breath remains uneven. Familiar panic grips at him like an old friend. “So… that’s just it? All I have left is to just wake up?” Is he ready?

“It’s now or never Tommy, we’re out of time. The code will keep glitching, but it will really be random this time.”

He’s not ready, even if he does remember it all, Tommy isn’t ready.

Softly, “It’s okay to be scared.” Ranboo says. “But it’s time.”

All at once, the sun and the moon share the sky. Darkness covers the west and light shines in the east. It’s beautiful, a moonrise and sunrise all at the same time, both igniting hope and dread.

Tommy briefly considers staying around to watch them collide if not to spare him a few more seconds of calm.

Maybe it would explode this dream world until there’s nothing left.

He looks over at Ranboo, trying to remember every detail he can because he most likely will never get to see the real hybrid. It’s a quick sting to his already damaged heart.

“Thank you,” Tommy wishes the real Ranboo could’ve heard him say it. The endermen really did help make exile slightly more bearable.

“Good luck,” Ranboo answers back, dawning a small smile.

It’s enough. Tommy closes his eyes; the moon, the sun, his dirt shack, Ranboo- It all disappears in darkness. It’s not nearly as stifling as the thick shadows in limbo.

The teen takes one last breath and lets it all fall away.

Chapter Text

He wakes up in a room, stone walls surrounding him on all sides and claustrophobia instantly makes itself known.

The panic grips his stomach, making it churn with anxiety and fear. Tommy wonders if Dream put him here for functionality or if the sadistic prick knew about his fear of closed spaces. He wouldn’t be surprised if Wilbur had told him about it one night, giving the bastard even more leverage against the teen.

The white bed underneath him is hard and scratchy and Tommy uses it to ground him, raking his hands across it back and forth in a somewhat soothing motion. The bed is the only color in the room; everything else is dark gray stone.

The teen tries to control his breathing, counting out how long he should hold his breath in his head. It’s about the only useful thing Wil had ever taught him during Pogtopia, when both their nerves were alight with constant anxiety.

After what seems like half of eternity, his body no longer feels completely out of control. He’s still slightly shaking, but at least he’s able to stand up on stable-enough legs.

The room is small, just a simple 9 by 9 with the bed taking up a fair amount of it. There’s nothing else in the room, not even a hole where he could use the restroom. It doesn’t matter, not really, because Tommy isn’t planning on staying that long.

He takes a few steps around the room, getting used to the feeling of being a functional being. His fake-reality dreams hadn’t prepared him at all and the memories of the void are towards the forefront of his mind, alienating him even further.

The breath in his lungs rattle and Tommy has to spend an alarming amount of attention towards breathing. It doesn’t feel automatic anymore, just like the hyper awareness he has of blinking.

If it's taking this much conscious thought to even function, how is he supposed to get out of here? And what about Dream? He could pop out of nowhere any second and obliterate him.

It’s a dreary thought, enough to crush his hopes and make him want to curl back up in bed and go back to that oh, so familiar darkness.

But he can’t, not when an image of Ranboo flashes through his mind just as prominent as the void. His friend’s smile, encouraging and understanding; even if it technically wasn’t real, to Tommy, it was.

It really was.

Fists clenched, he turns away from the bed and starts feeling against the walls, looking for anything that could help him escape. There’s no door so Dream must have redstone attached to some of the blocks somewhere.

Other than the unfamiliarity of being alive, the old wounds that initially caused his death were gone, replaced by patches of scars where his skin burned away just a little too much to not leave any recollection of it.

In fact, Tommy’s pretty sure he hasn’t been this physically healthy since before the wars. His body is no longer skin and bones, there’s a bit of muscle to him after the revival that the starvation of Logstedshire had never allowed.

He’ll take any advantage he can, especially when it comes to facing up against Dream. The odds are already alarmingly stacked against him.

There’s a small groove in one of the stone blocks across from the bed.

The groove goes all the way to the floor, a two block radius- the perfect shape for a doorway. The groove itself doesn’t offer much help so Tommy does the only thing he can think of, he pushes as hard as he can against it. The stone doesn’t budge, doesn’t even creak.

It doesn’t matter, the teen keeps trying, using the stinging in his hands as it scrapes against the stone as a grounding force. It’s a good sting, the kind that remains him; he's a living, breathing being that can feel and think again.

His limbs shake, muscles cramping at the constant tension, but Tommy doesn’t stop. He pushes and pushes and pushes. He doesn’t care if it will take the rest of eternity, Tommy has lived through a hefty chunk of it, a couple of decades would feel like nothing.

Finally… Finally, a click echoes around the room and Tommy takes a step back, watching the two blocks disappear into the floor. The revived teen hesitates for only a moment before he’s taking cautious steps into the dim-lit hallway.

Leaning forward, he looks left, then right. The long and skinny hallway is empty, not a soul in sight and Tommy steps fully into it. The hallway is made of the same kind of dark gray stone, torches dotting the walls every couple of blocks.

There’s a switch next to the hole in the wall, still facing up- its original position. Doubt courses through his veins; if the lever didn’t accidentally switch down, how did the redstone trigger?

He takes a breath and blinks, realizing it doesn’t matter, Tommy doesn’t want to stick around to find out. The thought of leaving kicks his body into high gear and he takes off in a random direction; left.

The pounding of his feet against the stone echoes loudly, Tommy doesn’t pay it any mind and focuses on forcing his body to run while always breathing and blinking. It’s a lot, and Tommy’s bordering overwhelmed but he desperately pushes it back.

Now is not the time to start freaking out.

After so long in the void, everything is bordering on too much. He hopes it’s just a temporary effect, if this is how he’ll be for the rest of his life, would it really be fulfilling? He pushes the thought back, he doesn’t need to start mentally spiraling too.

There’s nothing to signal an end to the hallway (tunnel?), no bright light at the end or even an opening somewhere in the walls.

It’s constant and never-ending, so closely resembling the purpose behind the void that Tommy wonders if this is all actually an elaborate hallucination made up by his own fucked mind or Dream.

Each torch flickers as he passes it, the fire twisting into different shapes and casting warped shadows. It blurs past him as he runs, going so fast that his eyes and brain can’t keep up with the onslaught of input.

But his brain must’ve been keeping somewhat close attention because his feet stop and he slides just a little before keeling over and taking big gulping breaths. After a moment, Tommy finally comprehends what he saw and quickly turns around, jogging back.

There’s a lever on the bottom of the wall, just pixels away from the floor. While it’s not hidden, the monotone stone walls do well to make it hard to spot. Tommy thanks the void and instantly goes to flick it.

He tenses, prepared for some crazy redstone contraption to come to life. Nothing happens.

Tommy flicks it again, looking around to see if anything in the surrounding area had moved.

Nothing.

Confusion makes way to annoyance and he flicks it down for the second time, hoping to see or hear something, anything. Silence.

Desperation is leaking in, heart beating faster and faster until Tommy panics when he realizes he’s suffocating. The teen takes a conscious breath while also blinking after realizing his eyes were starting to water as well. This whole living thing was a lot harder the second time.

Even after the moment of brief self-care, Tommy is still riddled with desperation and annoyance. Why would someone put a random lever on the wall if it doesn’t do anything?

If it was anyone else it wouldn’t make sense but Tommy’s been around Dream long enough to know the fucker probably put things like this all over the hallway, just to mess with people’s heads.

The revived boy couldn’t help but silently admit his enemy was doing a pretty good job.

He flicks it one more time to face upwards, daring to hope that maybe this would be the time it does something; like before, it doesn’t.

Tommy groans, runs his hands through his dirty and greasy hair, and starts back down the hall. However, Tommy starts scanning the walls a little more closely, trying to see if there’s any other hidden levers, buttons, or pressure plates.

It takes even more of his brain power to have the additional observation skills; he starts to wonder how he’s not falling apart at the seams by this point.

All that’s happened, all that’s happening, it’s too much, far too much for someone his age to have to deal with. He’s only 17 for crying out loud!

Ranboo’s voice calls out in his head; it doesn’t matter, he’s already in this situation, now he has to deal with it.

His friend’s voice holds a caring sternness to it, similar to a mother telling their child how messed up the world is for the first time.

Tommy stops again, bending down just underneath a torch and inspects the small button hidden there.

A part of him is sure one of these will lead to tnt and everything will just go up in flames one last time. It wouldn’t matter anyway, he’d only be going back to the void, after all.

He confidently pushes it this time, watching the button push inwards and looks up at the wall as the sound of redstone lighting is heard just out of sight.

This is it, Tommy thinks. He’s going to hear the sound of lit tnt any second and that’ll be the end of it. The real end.

He thinks of what was, is, and could’ve been. He thinks of Wilbur, Dream, of the room he woke up in, this hallway. Then he thinks of Ranboo, of Tubbo.

No. It won’t just be the end. It would be the end of all the ‘what if’ happy endings, of the possible good memories and laughs. The coming years of tears of pain and joy. Him and Tubbo and Ranboo hugging and smiling and genuinely laughing. He’s not ready.

He’s not ready.

..

…

The redstone stops. A few blocks away, there’s an entrance that hadn’t been there before. It’s wider than the entranceway to his room, possibly the sign of something more important.

The curiosity of what could be there and the certainty of not wanting to die here is enough to force him forward.

He takes a breath, blinks and walks in. The new hallway gets bigger the further in he walks. The ceiling towers over him, more than 4 blocks high. He only walks for a few minutes before it abruptly ends, another lever on the wall to his right.

There’s a feeling deep in the pit of his stomach, as if Tommy’s standing on the edge of a cliff and all that’s left is to jump in the waves and pray for the best.

He’s been through too much shit to back down now; Tommy flicks it.

One moment there’s dark gray stone, the next, there's a bright blue sky.

He closes his eyes against the onslaught of light and lets his eyes adjust, forcing them open for longer amounts of time until he doesn’t have to squint anymore. The smell of fresh air and nature brings more tears to his eyes and Tommy breathes in as much of it as he can.

He takes small steps forward until there’s no longer hard stone but soft grass under his worn and beloved sneakers.

A laugh escapes him and he wonders how he could’ve been okay with missing this. It’s so clear now, the difference between dreams and reality. It’s like half the picture was missing and in his ignorance, he thought half of the image was okay to compromise with. But this, the full image, there’s no going back. Not after he finally appreciates it.

It’s just past noon, the sun is warm against his pale skin, the kind of warmth his sun missed in his dreams.

Behind him, a mountain towers over him. The entrance to the maze of hallways is nothing but a dark hole in the side of it.

He takes one last look at it, then faces back towards the sky. Techno had taught him how to find his way back home (or to spawn), no matter where that was by the position of the sun in the sky.

The piglin hybrid had gotten tired of needing to go out and find him when Tommy inevitably got lost.

He used what he learned, facing to the east, where distantly familiar trees were, and started walking. He could see it clearly in his mind, all the things he had missed; the Greater SMP, L’manburg, Eret’s castle.

Tommy finally understood what dream Ranboo had seen, the hope and happiness that only the real world could offer. That only other people could give and take. Perhaps, reality could be just as beautiful as his dreams, even if it took a little more work, a little more hurting.

He picked up his pace until he was running past trees and rocks and animals, laughing like a maniac and smiling just as bright as the sun.

Behind him, a sheep cautiously sniffs at the hole in the mountain, bleating at it before turning away and munching on more grass.

Chapter Text

The SMP is quiet. Tommy doesn’t mind it, he’s found a new appreciation for the silence.

It’s no longer suffocating, it’s freeing; a space to let your thoughts wonder. That’s how the SMP feels right now, like a ghost town meant for wandering souls to stop and think.

The server isn’t in ruins like Tommy secretly hoped it would be when bitterness and dread consumed him, nor is it the utopia he thought it would look like when longing and sadness possessed him during his nights in tnret.

It’s almost completely the same, only a few new buildings spread here and there. The community house stood tall in the center of it all, like a beacon.

He takes a breath, willing his heartbeat to calm before walking through the community house and hesitantly stepping onto a familiar wooden path.

His foot lands with a thump; the world doesn’t stop, the server doesn’t explode, nothing changes, as if Tommy hasn’t been gone for months. Like he hasn’t been dead for most of it.

He thought about this moment, thought he had pictured every scenario during his lucid times in limbo, but apparently he hadn’t.

Tommy hadn’t imagined that he’d be so unaffected. The teen always thought he'd yell, or cry, or be filled with unimaginable joy. Instead, he feels indifferent, his emotions feel more reserved.

He feels more reserved.

Tommy thinks he likes this change, this new him. The trauma of the past has finally caught up and what’s left of him is the parts that managed to survive and cope. Death clings to him, he knows, but the will to live has become so much stronger than it was in the past.

He’s walking down the prime path carefully and slowly, taking in each sight. In whole, it’s overwhelming but when Tommy looks closer he sees places and things that spark good and bad memories. They make him feel more human, more connected to his past.

It doesn’t take long before he’s walking up the stairs on the side of a small hill, the roof of his home slowly comes into view. It’s become the only place he’ll call home and even after so long, it’s the only place that he still feels welcomed to.

The final piece of his new self has slipped into place. The flowers in the yard are in bloom; they're bright and beautiful.

Tommy opens the door, tears forming in his eyes at the sight of most of his things still where he left them. It’s all mostly untouched, the only thing of his to be mostly left alone.

He walks around, touch feather-light as his fingers slide through the dust gathered on his furniture. The way he looks at his old items and furniture is different and Tommy is already forming renovation plans in his head.

He scans through the chests and finds nothing useful; the only thing he tucks into his inventory is one of his old and cracked communicators.

This home was TommyInnit’s home, but after he’s done with it, it will just be Tommy’s.

The blonde smiles and walks to his bed, exhausted from the rollercoaster of emotions and the full day of traveling. His muscles are sore after being stuck in a bed for who knows how long. He closes his eyes, half-hoping his dreams are just as fascinating as they were in that prison-room.

--

Tommy doesn’t get to sleep long, the sound of stumbling in his main room has him bolting upright and springing off the bed.

He doesn’t have a weapon on him, Tommy inwardly winces at this but raises his fist nonetheless.

…and instantly drops them, hands limply falling to his side. Two mismatched eyes look at him in utter shock.

“Ranboo?” Tommy doesn’t recognize his own voice.

“T-Tommy? Is it really you?” The blonde can’t stop the manic laughter, tears springing to his eyes.

Ranboo freezes for a moment, tail nervously twitching before he starts chuckling too. The sound prompts Tommy to lunge forward and wrap his hands around his friend’s middle, hugging tightly.

“I’ve missed you man.”

Ranboo hugs back, chin propped up on top of Tommy’s head. “I- we thought you were dead.”

“I was.” Two words is all it takes; Ranboo pounces back, eyes bright with concern. Tommy swallows, “It’s a long story.”

Ranboo sputters, “Y-you.. What?”

The emotions surging in the hybrid's eyes is too much for him to take and he decides he doesn’t want to deal with this, not right now. “How about we talk about it later, like I said it’s a long story… what are you doing here?” The change in topic is refreshing and he hopes Ranboo doesn’t linger on it.

Truthfully, the blonde can’t think of a legitimate reason as to why Ranboo of all people would be sneaking around his house when the hybrid admits to believing no one would be in here. Atleast, no one should be wandering around a dead man's house without a reason… Was Ranboo here for nefarious intentions?

Panic settles in his stomach but Tommy decides to ignore the hurt and betrayal and focus on the positive, something he hadn’t done in a long time. The possibility of Ranboo just coming by to reminisce was a lot higher.

“I…” Ranboo looks down and holds his hands behind his back, head lowered in what Tommy thinks is embarrassment, “No one comes here so there’s not really anyone to keep it clean.”

See, Tommy would normally believe him if the prominent memory of him swiping his hands through the dust on his furniture wasn’t in the forefront of his mind. “You’re lying.” Tommy wills his voice not to shake as his heart starts up an increased rhythm, he’s sure it’s louder than a drum.

Would Ranboo really be here to steal his things or sabotage the house?

Ranboo snaps his head up with a guilty look; the white side of his face is colored red around his cheekbones from lingering embarrassment. If Tommy wasn’t so close to a panic attack he would’ve laughed at the sight.

“You're right… I’m sorry. The truth is,” Ranboo moves his hands until they’re in front of him, palms facing up. “When I miss you I take care of the flowers in the front.”

Tommy notices the dirt streaks all over his friend’s hands as well as the dirt caked in his claws and feels a tidal wave of relief crash down on him. He lets out a breath.

“You can’t scare me like that big man…Flowers are poggers.” He coughs and tries to casually shrug, “I thought maybe you were,” He swallows and lowers his voice. “Were working for Dream or somethin.”

“Dream?” Ranboo’s voice becomes an octave higher. “Is he looking for you?”

As far as Tommy knows, no one even knew half of the shit Dream was doing to him. “How do you know that?”

Ranboo’s eyes darken and Tommy recognizes some of the familiar pain in his mismatched eyes. Pain caused by manipulation and senseless cruelty. What if he wasn’t the only teenager Dream was hurting?

He’s curious but after his own experiences, Tommy finds himself saying, “You don’t have to talk about it, just know that I’m here for you.”

Gratefulness lights Ranboo’s eyes back up with a familiar and comforting spark, Tommy feels his body start to relax; he had no idea it was so tense. His mind circles back to Ranboo’s question, “And yes, Dream is looking for me.”

Or he will be soon.

“What do we do?” He can see Ranboo is valiantly trying to push down his anxiety but the panic is leaking through and Tommy can’t help but think of a different Ranboo who helped in every way that was valuable. He can’t put his friend - or any of his old friends for that matter - in trouble.

“There’s no we, just I.”

The repercussions of having Dream chasing him are starting to catch up and fast.

“I can’t just let you deal with Dream alone. I thought you were dead…” Ranboo’s face is full of grief and Tommy doesn’t understand how that can all be for him. “You’re my friend.” Like it makes the most sense in the entire world.

He feels his lips twitch into a smile. His brain is going a mile a minute; he thinks of his time in limbo. The peace that comes from solitude. A plan is starting to form in his mind, a plan that would be nothing like the old TommyInnit.

“Thank you Ranboo, but it’s not what you think.” Conversations with Skeppy and Bad become crystal clear, something that was so hard to do in the dream world or coma or whatever the hell he was in.

“I’m not gonna try to half-ass a fight. I’m gonna run.” To peace. To happiness. Anywhere away from this server.

“I don’t know Tommy,” Ranboo looks at Tommy like he’s lost his mind, maybe he has. “Dream is one of the best trackers on the server…”

“Who said it was on the server?” Tommy says, smirking at the confusion on Ranboo’s face.

Most of the server may not know about how badly Dream messed with their coding, but it’s common knowledge that they can’t come and go freely.

“I.. I don’t understand.” Ranboo looks so lost, Tommy decides to have pity on him.

He gestures to the ground, “Sit down,” and promptly falls down and crosses his legs. Ranboo pauses for a moment but joins anyway, long legs scrambling to find room. He looks younger this way, Tommy wonders if he looks that way too or if the spark he used to carry is completely gone.

“When a new person joins the server, Dream messes with their code. He implements the three lives system and makes it so we can’t leave.” Ranboo leans forward, ears perked and nods along. “But there’s a backdoor system that lets us look at our code, like an admin.”

Tommy pauses, trying to get his thoughts in order. If the backdoor works… he would be free. Ranboo waits patiently and Tommy wonders how he didn’t realize the easy friendship they had before exile.

“My code is glitched because of the rev- uh, because of something Dream did to my code during exile. I think if I can find the backdoor, I can get into another server via this glitch.” The revival was something he wanted to keep secret, at least for now.

“Is that… something you could pull off?” Tommy knows Ranboo’s not saying it in a mocking way but the last shrivel of his pride puffs up.

“I’m a better coder than you think.” Ranboo nods without another word and he thinks he may have been a little too harsh in his delivery, “Don’t worry, I’m pretty confident it will work.”
His friend nods once more, muttering a sentence under his breath before quickly standing, Tommy following. “We need to tell Tubbo about this, maybe he can help.”

Tommy’s skin prickles and he swallows down the emotion bubbling up in his throat. “I don’t think we need to, I’ll be gone by the time he’d be told anyway.”

Ranboo looks like he sucked on something sour, “Tubbo would want to know that you’re alive Tommy, he- he thought you were dead too.”

“And you can tell him,” Tommy encourages, “Just after I leave.” He doesn’t want to see or talk to Tubbo, some of it is bitterness but truthfully, if he sees his ex(?)-bestfriend he’s scared he won’t be able to leave.

He’ll be held back by the tantalizing hope of reconciliation. That’s not fair to either of them and if he could get out of this awful server, maybe he could find help for the others too.

“Tommy…”

“Ranboo,” He sighs and spreads out his arms for effect, “Dream is gonna find me any minute. I need to do this as quickly as possible without causing any attention.” Minus the notification the server operators are sure to get when he leaves.

Flashes of people he wishes he could see one more time appear in quick succession; Bad and Skeppy, Sam Nook, Tubbo, Quackity and Fundy, even Jack. But he can’t, time is never on his side is it?

Not his family, not after everything. Techno and Phil probably wouldn't even care and Ghostbur is so far gone he won’t notice a difference.

Plus they all think he’s dead anyway, no harm no foul.

“Alright… are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?”

An image of Wilbur, the old Wilbur flashes through his mind; Tommy never really got the comfort of closure after his older brother’s death. But maybe he could give it to anyone else who might care about him. Except for Tubbo, who Ranboo is definitely gonna snitch too.

“Actually, yeah,” Dream hadn’t bothered to change his clothes, he was still in his ratty khakis and classic t-shirt. Both clothing items had burn holes, gun powder stains, and grime all over them. For a moment Tommy was distracted; he didn’t like the colors anymore.

The red looked too similar to blood and the white represented an innocence he only got to touch, not hold. He blinked and mentally shook himself out of it before quickly grabbing the dark green bandana around his neck and untying it. Without pause he held it up for Ranboo.

“Give this to Tubbo,” He said with a rough voice, the last form of goodbye he has. “Make up a story to the rest of the server about my complete and 100% real death. Make it so there’s no way someone could prove you wrong.” Tommy didn’t know how his voice remained unwavering but he managed.

Ranboo looked equal parts horrified and heartbroken, he said in a small voice, “You want me to fake your death?”

…well when he said it like that- “Yes. It’s the only way to give them some closure and hopefully deter Dream. It’s better for everyone if I were dead.” It stung to say it out loud but it was the truth. No matter where he went, he always caused trouble.

“That’s not true.” Ranboo tried to protest but one withering look from Tommy had him slamming his jaw shut.

There really was no reason to argue, Tommy’s mind has been made up and if only a few of his traits stuck with him through this ordeal... Well, one of them was his stubbornness.

“Okay… okay.” Ranboo gently took the green cloth out of Tommy’s hands and stared at it silently for a moment. It seems Tubbo had told him about the importance of it.

Tommy would’ve given him the compass too but that had been left behind in the shell that was Logstedshire. He hoped the bandana would be enough.. If push came to shove he could give Ranboo his shirt too.

Hey, that’s not a bad idea.

He had a few spare hoodies under his bed, unused. Wilbur said they didn’t fit or look good on him as well as the t-shirt. He detested Wilbur for saying that, for forcing him in a box for years in the false hope that he could impress his older brother.

Wilbur could never be impressed- a feat he’d only realized was impossible while thinking over it in Limbo. Those lucid moments really did his mental health well. He thinks.

Tommy’s hands moved on their own and pulled at the torn edges off his shirt, yanking it upwards. He knew he probably looked like a mess; ribs sticking out, bruises and burns that haven’t healed yet, and prime knows what else.

He heard Ranboo’s sharp intake of breath but continued anyway until the shirt was completely off. He held it out to Ranboo, wincing at the thought of the blood and sweat and tears soaked up by the fabric. Ranboo didn’t seem to care about that though and grabbed the shirt, Tommy was glad he didn’t need to voice the reason for the shirt out loud.

Yet another thing that made Ranboo a good friend. Why was he so short-sighted before?

Tommy claps his hands together, it echoes around the house. “That’s that, then.” He walked back to his bedroom, reaching for the box underneath his bed and pulling out a gray hoodie that normally would’ve fit him perfectly but now it hangs off his frame and is at least 2 sizes too large.

“So you're leaving today?” A spike of annoyance before he exhales, he sprung a lot on Ranboo. There’s no reason to be rude or annoyed about his friend’s confusion.

“More like right now. I just need to go to one of the places on the server where the codes are a little more wild.” He fidgets with the hoodie, he needs to get going, there’s no time.

“The community house?” Ranboo questions, it would make sense, it’s the center of the SMP, but it’s not the beginning or the end.

“Close. Spawn.” Ranboo hums along before letting his shoulders droop a little more and rushes forward. Tommy doesn’t argue, he just tightens his hold and soaks in the physical contact.

It had been so long since he’s touched or talked to someone without pain being involved, or someone who wasn’t made up in his head. In another world, Tommy wishes Ranboo and Tubbo could come with him; they could all run away together without a care in the world, just like Tommy and Tubbo had joked about all that time ago.

But wishes get you nowhere except false hope. Tommy pulls away and tries to offer his best TommyInnit smile, he hopes it reaches his eyes.

--

The pair separate just outside his house, one last wave goodbye before the teenager is watching the back of Ranboo disappear in the afternoon light. The light streams around the figure, making him look otherworldly.

Despite all the talking, not much time had passed. The sun was still high in the sky, shining down on the server members without a care in the world.

The other Sleepy Bois used to joke that Tommy reminded them of the sun; optimistic with a bright shine in his eyes. What would they say now?

He retraces his steps, passing by the SMP but not stopping to gawk at it like before. Who knows how quickly Dream will figure out he escaped; the green bastard could be on his way any moment.

He scours his memory, trying to think of every detail of his time with Bad and Skeppy. The community comes and goes before he’s near sprinting through familiar oak trees to spawn.

The beginning.

The mismatched block wall surrounding all four sides of spawn towers through the trees and he circles it, trying to remember where the hole to get in and out is. The barest hint of a hole comes into view and he dives down towards it, thankful for the first time at his starved body for being so skinny.

He wiggles through, ungracefully landing on the other side. He looks around warily, the air is thick with magic and coding.

He pulls out his old communicator, blowing the dust off and willing it to turn on as he presses the power button. It beeps and he pumps his fist in victory as the screen lights up with a large Loading… screen.

He shuffles towards the center, where the air is thickest and if he narrows his eyes he can see the small shimmer of code in the air. Coding is like oxygen, you don’t always see it but it’s always there, in everything.

The communicator beeps again, the loading screen is gone and the format of the comm system looks like it’s missed 4 or 5 or 20 updates. Tommy doesn’t complain, as far as he knows the backdoor system should work with any comm. He prays to Prime it does.

Tommy runs light fingers over the surface screen, bypassing chats messages and health status. It’s pretty simple to hack into the system and it isn’t until Tommy’s just skimming the surface of the server code that a shiver wracks down his frame.

It’s like the code knows as the air becomes a little more frigid around spawn and the air somehow even thicker. It knows a player is trying to do things they’re not supposed to.

Flashbacks of Limbo and exile threaten to overwhelm him as the biting air feels familiar. Tommy tries to get air to his lungs and looks at the mix of numbers and letters on the screen, forcing his fingers to move.

After a few minutes of stiff silence Tommy finally sees a crack in the first layer of code, he rushes to it as it lets him break into the second layer.

Coding is protective, there’s different layers that contain pieces of information so a hacker can’t break the entire server in one go. The information Tommy needs is at the center; the fourth layer and the hardest code to twist and change.

The second layer for the SMP code is mostly numbers, how many animals, trees, biomes, etc, there are in the server. Curiosity peaks Tommy’s interest but he pushes on, with Dream most likely just a few chunks away he needs to hurry.

The second layer is easy to leave and Tommy finds himself headfirst in the third layer, eyes trying to keep track of the dozens of stringed letters and numbers flying past his comm screen.

Tommy’s knowledge on the code is starting to lack, Bad and Skeppy never talked about the internal layers much; there was no need since none of them owned the server. But a flash of Hallucination Ranboo and his hopeful eyes at the possibility of escape pushes Tommy past his boundaries.

Freedom beckons him- he’s so close.

He breaks through the third layer. Tommy lets out a laugh of relief and stress. He has no clue how he pulled it off but he’ll try to figure that out later, when he’s servers away from this hell.

He’s scanning the code, looking for a place to implant the backdoor when he hears it; the slight crunching of leaves. His heart drops as his panic overwhelms him, making it so the code blurs together in front of his eyes.

A slow clap echoes around the walls that protect spawn from the rest of the world. It’s isolated; no one would hear him yell and Dream can easily out-run him.

“Look at you, it’s almost like you have free-will again.” Dreams' voice is rough and the sentence cracks in the middle with insanity, sending pin-pricks of pain down his spine as Tommy tries to gain strength from somewhere, anywhere. He lifts his head and turns around, the communicator still clutched between his hands.

The first thing Tommy notices is the mask; it’s completely shattered, even worse than the last time he remembers it. A third of it remains, stubbornly covering one eye in false protection.

Tommy’s fingers are still dancing over the screen; half of his attention split between the immediate threat and the hope of escape.

Dream’s visible eye is bright emerald green and full of malice. Tommy knows Dream hates him but to see it so close, so personal…

“I’ve always had free will.” It’s meek but it’s the only thing that comes to mind, his lips feel numb as they move and Tommy doesn’t know how he’s still standing at this point.

Dream laughs again; it’s manic and unhinged. “Bull-shit. You were so docile in exile but suddenly one brush with death and you're back to your bratty old self.”

Red hot anger swarms his veins and the bitter taste of death cakes his mouth. Tommy wishes it were venom instead of words that he spits out, “I died. You fucking killed me; a line I didn’t think even you would cross, especially with your play-thing.” He hopes his eyes are burning just as fiercely as his heart.

If Dream is shocked by the outburst, he doesn’t show it. In fact, it seems like he becomes more amused, Tommy’s gut twists at this thought.

“I’m glad that you're back to your pre-exile days. It means that I can break you all over again. But this time you’ll actually be alone- stuck in a bland room all day until insanity has you banging your head against the wall.” Dream chuckles while he takes a threatening step forward, hand moving to his side where an inconspicuous netherite sword is.

Tommy surprises himself and doesn’t back away, the code is getting bulky, long strings stranded together to form the creation of the server. Dream doesn’t seem to notice it, or doesn’t care; not when his prey is so close Tommy thinks harshly.

Somehow during his time in the dream world, Dream has fallen off. Insanity has finally dragged him down with thick claws.

“Well, this was fun…” Tommy says as slowly as he can, anything to stall.

“Let’s go, Tommy. It’s time to go back.” Dream takes another step forward and this time Tommy’s body reacts on instinct, taking a measured step back while still staying towards the center of spawn.

He needs to stay in the center if he has any hope of this working. Out of the corner of his eye he picks a spot in the strings and starts creating the backdoor.

“Tommy,” A warning, and with a quiet ‘shling’ the sword is waved in the air with Dream holding it in a white-knuckled grip.

He’s almost done with the door- the code is starting to glimmer in the air, catching the lazy afternoon sun and looking like fireflies floating around them.

Dream finally notices, looking around in blatant shock before morphing to outrage that someone would dare touch his server code.

The code glimmers some more and Tommy takes more steps back, watching in slow motion as Dream lunges forward as the code finally inserts itself completely and the backdoor system is formed.

The teen doesn’t hesitate, he types in his user code, the one Phil made him memorize when he was younger. He blinks at the combination of letters and numbers that summarize his entire existence, he looks up at Dream, who’s getting closer by the millisecond.

“TOMMY!”

He offers a smile, one of his most genuine ones since before he died. It’s a smile of triumph and he forms words so familiar as he presses enter, “Suck it, green boi.”

--

His eyes are closed and it’s dark, but through the blackness he still sees the outline of code as it skims past him.

He feels in-between, just a fragmentation of code trying to find a place to connect too. It’s Limbo part two he thinks. He can’t go straight to the Core Hub, too many players there; his code would be too overwhelmed, especially with how fucked and glitched it is.

He doesn’t try to focus on it too much, he’s overwhelmed and exhausted. The stress of seeing Dream one last time has shredded his nerves. Maybe being in Limbo for a while to calm down would be a good idea.

Suddenly the code stops and before Tommy has time to understand how or why, he’s dropped unceremoniously on the ground. His injuries from the DreamSMP have carried over, he’s still half-starved, bruised, and bloody.

Luckily his sweatshirt covers most of his injuries, in case prying eyes try to figure out what the hell happened to him. He doesn’t want the first person he meets to run away in fear.

He looks around, still on his knees; he’s on the side of a hill, oak trees offering shade and birds happily sing in the distance. There’s a lazy afternoon sun, making its slow descent down the sky.

He spots some broken trees and a crafting table in the distance, dread fills him. What if these players are just as cruel?

He flinches and scurries back as someone gasps behind him. It’s a sandy-haired man, in a red sweater with a kind face. He’s wearing no armor and no sword is visible by his hip. For some reason his player tag is green instead of the typical white.

He looks concerned and confused; it turns to alarm when tears start leaking down Tommy’s face unbidden.

“A-are you okay? What happened?” Tommy doesn’t answer and instead offers a question of his own.

“Who are you?” It’s hissed between clenched teeth as he realizes he’s completely defenseless.

The guy sighs and runs a hand through his hair before putting them out in a gesture of peace. “My name is Grian, I run this server. This closed server.”

Tommy wants to cry in relief; he did it. He got out and now there’s another server owner, someone who could possibly help. “I’m Tommy,” He whispers back, still in shock.

“Alright Tommy, how did you get on here?”

“Have you heard of DreamSMP?” Grian shakes his head but Tommy continues. “It’s… it’s a bad place.”

He thinks of Tubbo and Ranboo, still stuck there with that tyrant. Of all the SMP members trapped in Dream’s webs. He stands up hoping to convey his fear and hope while making eye contact with this Grian guy.

Dark brown meets baby blue. “The owner… he trapped me and my friends. He’s ruined our code.. you’ve got to help me. Help me free them!” He’s desperate.

Grian’s mouth falls open, “Alright… alright.” Grian takes a heavy breath, “Come meet my friends, we’ll figure this out. We’ll help them.”

He feels like a little kid again, looking for reassurance like that one time after almost being mobbed by a zombie. Phil promised him they’d never come near him again that night.

“You promise?” His voice breaks the sentence in half.

Grian smiles, Tommy feels a chunk of the world lift off his shoulders. Maybe everything will be alright, maybe that wretched server doesn’t have to be the end of them all. Maybe Tommy can heal.

“I promise.”

In his mind, Ranboo smiles.