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Suicide was always tempting, the mere thought of escaping exile in the easiest way possible always floated in the mist that was the back of Tommy’s mind.
There were a few times where he went through with attempting to end his life, but he would only get halfway toward his goal before being stopped, whether it be by his “guardian”, or by himself.
What he considered the “halfway point” to be was getting to the edge, so very close to committing to what he’d planned, staring death in the face.
The preparation was all there, it was just the execution he had to follow through with.
But he could never do it. Maybe it was something to do with longing to go back home and see his friends, or maybe it was the fact he’d become afraid of dying because of how many times he’d tried to commit.
He’d become moderately afraid of heights from nerd-piling into the sky with whichever blocks he had on hand. He did it quite often, and each time he increased the height.
He was slightly more afraid of the sea surrounding his little space on the land, as he’d awoken multiple times to not only the frigid cold of the water, but sometimes he’d awaken to being bounced around on the surface of the water by dolphins.
On top of those fears, he’d become quite afraid of the nether. It had been for a multitude of reasons, one of which being the amount of times he had just stood and stared down at the lava lake underneath him, seeing exactly how easy it’d be to just walk off the edge and have that be it for his pathetic life.
He didn’t want his friends—could he still call them that? After what they did to him, how they treated him? Dream told him they didn’t care, but there was a voice in the back of his head that told him that he himself was the problem—to see him like this; an anxious mess who was dependant on the man who had gotten him into this shit, and whom he went to when he sook comfort and reassurance.
He had tried to ask- he had begged Dream to destroy the bridge connecting the Nether Hub to his portal for him, but he’d always refuse and tell Tommy to: “Do it yourself! Sure, I helped you build it but I’m not your slave, I’m just here to watch you!”.
It took some time and courage, but Tommy did it eventually after getting the same response so many times.
Dream was a whole other creature. He’d instilled a routine into Tommy’s mind: Dream would arrive, he’d dig a hole and tell the exile to throw any armour and a tool he had on him into the hole, then he’d blow it up.
There had been a few times Tommy had tried to avoid it, but the routine was never broken. Dream always found a way to make Tommy comply.
Their relationship was…Odd. Alongside the disposal of Tommy’s armour, whenever the outcast asked when he’d be allowed to “go home”, he’d be met with “You’re not allowed to, why do you want to go back anyway? They don’t want you.”
Tommy always believed it, of course he did. Why would anyone want him back after all the havoc he’d caused.
But immediately after he’d hear Dream say “Besides, you have me, you don’t need anyone else, Tommy. I always come see you, I want to see you better yourself as a person,”
More often than not, Dream would destroy Tommy’s progress, and when Tommy got upset, the guardian would say: “I’m doing it because I want to see you do better,” or “You can get it back, you just have to work harder,”.
“Abusive” was one way to put it, but Tommy would never call it that nor would he ever admit he was being abused, because Dream kept him company, and besides acting a little bad, he was good to Tommy! Right? What’s a little badness when it’s encased in so much good.
He simply told himself it was “tough love”.
The slow deterioration of Tommy’s mental state became ever more apparent to himself after no-one came to his beach party.
Tommy would never know he was set up to fail by the very man who suggested the idea to him, but when he realised nobody came, he ran straight to that man and cried into his arms, being comforted by the saboteur.
He’d be held and calmed by other, the masked figure would tug his fingers through Tommy’s filthy hair whilst his other hand rubbed the sobbing boy’s back.
Sometimes, Tommy would try and get over his fears, especially his fear of the nether. He’d go in, stand on the edge of his screaming station just to stare down at the lava. He’d push himself further and further each time, staying for longer and longer, sitting on the edge, testing how far he could sit before he’d fall off.
It didn’t help, nothing he did to try and overcome his fear worked. Why didn’t it work?!*
He even had to get Dream to save him from the ledge once as he’d become paralysed with fear after sitting for too long.
He would never tell his guardian that part of the reason he’d become unable to move was because he’d remembered something his once best friend, the very one who exiled him, told him as he was exiled from his homeland:
“Maybe, just maybe, you’ll learn some day that life PUNISHES the brave!”
He’d never really been able to think of Tubbo since he was exiled, he’d reminisce when laying in bed but that was about it.
It made him wonder why he’d remember one of the last things his friend said to him- yelled at him (he corrected himself. He remembered how hoarse his old best friend’s voice had been when he spoke those words) when he was trying to overcome a fear.
Maybe it was an outside force telling him to not go through with it, trying to convince him that it would get better over time.
After that one single experience, he’d thought of Tubbo more and more. Sometimes, he’d think about how much he missed his friend, wishing to have the courage to go home to L’Manberg and visit him. Maybe he could convince Tubbo to reinstate his citizenship! They could be happy again, he just had to show Tubbo how much he’d changed!
Other times he’d sob his heart out, wondering why his friend did this to him; leaving him with the infrequent company of a ghost (he hadn’t been around in a while… He’d probably abandoned Tommy too because he didn’t care! Of course he didn’t, the stupid ghost thought exile was just a holiday!) and the manipulative masked man who they’d once worked together to take down.
The thoughts always ended up washing up bitter. He could never return to L’Manberg, could never trust himself to not do something stupid again and have something worse than being exiled happen to him.
The guilt ate away at his confidence and determination about getting home again, to be “reintegrated” into civilisation. He couldn’t at this point anyway, with how dirty he was, how he’d been trained akin to a dog for the admin of the server, being confined to such a small place.
At the forefront of his mind, he didn’t want to leave Logstedshire, that was his home now. It was as Dream told him: it was impossible to go home, home is where he is now. Dream told him what to do, Dream told him where he could and couldn’t go, Dream made sure he didn’t have more than he needed, Dream didn’t lie.
Logstedshire was his home.
Being isolated with Dream was his home.