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And I Can Hear Him Break

Summary:

The icy bite of the tundra was harsh against his skin. Tommy shrunk further into himself as a new gust of wind tore through the fraying holes of his tattered clothes, tears freezing on his face before they had the chance to fall.

He never should have come here…

or...

Tommy on his way to the Arctic Commune after Dream blew up Logstedshire

Notes:

Title from 'Inkpot Gods' by The Amazing Devil

This is the first time I've written something for a fandom (or really anything in my own time I think) so any thoughts or comments are definitely welcome! Please drop any criticisms or thoughts down below :]
Also lmk if there are any missing tags i should add!

Work Text:

The icy bite of the tundra was harsh against his skin. Tommy shrunk further into himself as a new gust of wind tore through the fraying holes of his tattered clothes, tears freezing on his face before they had the chance to fall.

He never should have come here…

God what was he THINKING. How could he have done this he left Dream and he didn't say anything and now he was all alone far from home and Dream and anyone who never loved him and he didn't know how long its been since he last felt anything in his fingertips as they turned purples and blues so reminiscent of the sea below the sea below that impossibly tall tower of dirt and mud that he’d climbed with shaking limbs and heaving breaths only to look down and feel the same bite of the cold as he fell fell fell he was falling the wind whipped at his face oh god this was it this was finally it he was going to die this was the end and-

The blizzard threw him back against the snow and he collapsed, a wheezing gasp of pain as he pulled at strained muscles and opened wounds.

The snow fell soft against his face like gentle rains of ash and the wind blew hard against his freezing ears, roaring and screaming like the burning boom of explosions as everything he loved was torn away from him over and over and over again with the drone of withers and screams of friends and flicker of burning trees and thudding beat of wings and horses and a smiling face that hugged him close to his chest as his heart pounded thumping thumping thumping and he LEFT him he left he-

Tommy launched to his feet with a cry of frustration. His bones creaked and shuddered like rusted old gears but fuck that. He was Tommyinnit and primes damn him if he was gonna lie down and die in a place like this, cold and alone and left to rot in the middle of the tundra.

One step after another the wind beat at his battered body, cutting at his exposed arms, scratching at his face, seeping down through his skin like an unstoppable river of ice and snow. He walked on.

He walked for what felt like hours or days or months through the screaming winds and grappling chill when a flame pierced the unending blanket of snow. Hope healed his aching bones as he dragged himself closer to the wooden hut nestled within the forest of pines, reaching to the sky with shivering needles.

He pounded on the door as swirling clouds of darkness overtook his vision, swimming and singing siren songs of comfort. A grunt sounded from within as the door opened to a large figure, wreathed in shining armour and a blood red cloak.

A dull spike of fear trudged through Tommy at the sight of the cloak before he collapsed beneath his bruised, shaking limbs; a puppet with its strings finally cut. A confused grunt followed by panicked shouts echoed in his ears as his world gave way to glowing clouds of darkness and the soft embrace of unconsciousness wiped away his aches and fears.

And all was dark.