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Summary
Tommy, as always, woke up drowning.
Salt water filled his lungs as he struggled to the surface, half hoping he'd never make it. The too-hot air mixed painfully with freezing cold water as he peaked his head above the waves, clawing desperately towards what he hoped was the beach and hoped wasn’t in equal measure. The sand burnt his skin as he crawled onto it, what little was remaining of the rags that were his clothed sodden and ripping further. He vomited a mix of water and what little food he had left in his stomach onto the ground, gagging long after it was empty.
Merry fucking Christmas, he guessed.
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Or, Christmas in Logstedshire, if c!Tommy never managed to escape.
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