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tommy kicks at the sand.
"this is fucking stupid!" he yells. dream doesn't look up, sitting a little higher up the shore and writing in some book. "this sucks!"
"shut up, tommy," dream says. his hand has stopped moving.
"fuck you! you fucking- you took me here! i hate you, dream, you-" tommy tugs at his hair and yells.
dream, for the record, turns away to stare at the ocean instead. "maybe you shouldn't have broken the rules, then."
"fuck! you! nobody loves you! your- your mom hates you!"
dream laughs, something hollow and unlike. "nobody loves me?" he goes back to his book. "psch. look at yourself."
tommy cycles through many expressions, before landing on resigned rage. "you're a fucking monster."
"mhm."
"i hate you."
"okay."
"...fuck you, dream."
"are you done?" dream closes the book and stands up. "it doesn't look like i'm needed here."
tommy hesitates, and dream looks at him, tilts his head. "awh, are you lonely?"
"no, dream." he turns away and walks at a brisk pace, shoulders squared and hands fiddling for a missing weapon. "i'm not."
"look, dream, you have to help me!" he hits another zombie in the head and winces at the crack of decayed bone. "dream!"
dream stands nearby, supporting himself on his axe. he's smug in his signature netherite, as opposed to tommy's poorly-made iron. "nah, i'm good."
his stupid fucking head tilt, the way he waves a hand- tommy knows he's gotten good at reading dream and he hates it. "you're going to let your friend die?"
dream tenses. "no," dream says, then realises what that implies and groans. "fine."
he lifts his axe from the ground and sweeps out three mobs in the same breath.
"well why didn't you do that before!?" tommy screams, now covered in zombie blood.
"shut up!" dream shouts back, fighting the rest of the mobs now that their attention is on him, too.
"you're such a bitch!"
tommy sits at the shore, ghostbur strumming some chords next to him. he sighs. "y'know, wilbur-"
"not wilbur."
"-sometimes... sometimes i feel lonely."
the strumming doesn't stop. tommy feels a bit glad for it. it takes away some of the pressure, both around his words and between his ribs.
"i know i'm, i'm- i'm a big man and i'm strong but... but..."
"strong doesn't mean independent." ghostbur's looking at his guitar. he's staining the strings. "you can miss your friends."
"...but nobody's visited."
"i'm here! and so is dream!"
tommy huffs. "dream is awful to be around. and you... yeah. i guess you're there."
ghostbur either doesn't notice or doesn't comment on tommy's dismissal. he just keeps playing.
dream stumbles through the portal.
"whoa, what the fuck?" tommy's immediately rushing to make sure he doesn't fall. "why are you drunk?"
"i'm not drunk," dream rasps, "it's... it's the heat."
"doesn't matter. why are you passing out?"
dream shakes tommy's hands off. "it's... nothing."
tommy sniffs him. "you smell like lava. and potions."
"what's it matter to you?"
tommy stops. what does it matter to him? "uh..."
something in dream's posture changes. "yeah. thought so." he stands up fully, still a little dazed, and steps away from tommy. the seconds between are tense.
tommy sighs when the shovel is summoned.
tommy holds the blue powder. "so, like..." he watches it turn goopy. "...what's it do?"
"it absorbs sadness!" ghostbur summons more, dropping it, as well, into tommy's hand. it starts turning the same shade of sapphire.
"...odd." he thinks he does feel lighter. "hey, where do you get this stuff?"
"my inventory! i have unlimited amounts of it."
tommy doesn't even notice dream coming up behind him before there's an arm on his shoulder. "hello tommy. ghostbur."
"hi dream!" ghostbur grins wide, holding out his full hands. the powder is already a sky blue. "have some blue!"
"uh- okay?" he takes a small amount and startles as it turns blue immediately, sticking to his fingers. he mumbles, "what the hell?"
"oh, that-" ghostbur pouts. "that's not good."
"what's it do?"
"dream, please take some more!"
"no, ghostbur, what does it do?"
dream takes a step back and ghostbur pounces, smearing the substance on dream's mask and hoodie. it doesn't change.
"ghostbur, fuck off!" he summons his shield and blocks himself off from the ghost. he doesn't swipe the blue away. "don't do that!"
ghostbur, with the determination of a child, struggles through until he manages to somehow pat dream's bare neck. the powder melts on contact again.
tommy watches with narrowed eyes.
tommy wakes up in the water, as he often does.
he sighs and swims to shore. he's dripping wet, now, and his shivers won't stop.
he misses everyone back in l'manburg. the air is so cold here, cold and empty. he wants a hug. just one.
tommy startles at the footsteps approaching him. yelping, he twists around, finding none other than dream.
"why are you wet?" dream asks, the scoff unspoken but implied.
tommy looks down. dream's boots are covered in blood. "...went for a swim."
"the sun is barely up."
"i-" he coughs around the little saltwater in his lungs. "i woke up early."
he isn't rewarded with an answer. dream instead sidesteps him, heading to the water. he squats, takes his newly-common gloves off, and flicks the water. "it's freezing," he says.
tommy stands behind him. he doesn't push dream into the water; that wouldn't be nice of him. "yeah."
the mask turns to look at him. there's blue still smeared along the bottom of it. "...are you okay, tommy?"
he doesn't know what to say. it seems answer enough.
dream stands fully, facing him. tommy hates that he can read the hesitation. slowly, dream raises his arms.
tommy doesn't hesitate.
dream is - he isn't soft. he isn't warm. he isn't familiar. he isn't good, or nice. he's just... a hug.
tommy wraps his arms around him and dream somehow tenses even further, almost coiled to flee, or maybe fight. his breaths are shallow.
"...dream?"
"yes?"
"calm down."
the request doesn't help much. but at least he tried.
there's tension in the block of space between them.
dream sits straighter than tommy, and there's stiffness to it that isn't just confidence. tommy wonders if anyone else can read dream, because something's off. but he doesn't bother to do anything about it.
while dream keeps his legs away from the edge, likely a bit spooked from the height, tommy himself dangles his feet off the netherrack. he doesn't care. he just... he doesn't care.
it smells of burning flesh and tastes dry. the nether isn't pleasant. but it's warm. he woke up under the waves today, again, like every day now. ghostbur wasn't there. dream was sitting at the remains of their fire from last night, poking at the ashes. tommy had gone on a walk in the nether and dream had invited himself, too. he isn't sure if he appreciates it.
they don't speak. it's uncomfortable. but it's company. tommy leaves first.
dream picks at a piece of cake while tommy rages. it's crafted and tastes dull, but it's cake. he takes another bite.
"nobody fucking cares! nobody!" tommy kicks a chair down. he shouts wordlessly. he whips around to dream, still chewing, and something in his expression changes. does it soften? become lighter? something in that vein. dream doesn't bother to think about it. he's already here too much.
"and yet, you-!" the look is gone just as fast as it appeared. "you- you show up!" another chair into the sand.
"tommy, sit down."
"no!"
"tommy. sit down." dream balances his plate on his knee and pats the spot next to him. "get some cake and calm down."
tommy's shoulders heave up and down as he glares, then drop as he sighs. "fine."
he gets himself a piece and sits, a little closer than dream had expected.
"...where are they?"
"i don't know," dream lies. it tastes like sulfur and fire res and minutes spent under lava. "i guess nobody wanted to come."
tommy sighs. he leans his head on dream's shoulder and takes a bite. he doesn't wipe the crumbs off. "...why?"
dream wards off the warmth between his bones, keeps himself from apologising and telling tommy that he doesn't want him to leave, like everyone, like everything. one person he can keep. "...i don't know," he decides on instead. he doesn't shove tommy off, instead leaning in, too. "at least you've got me."
tommy scoffs. "at least."
"it could be worse. you could be completely alone."
"i sense projection."
dream huffs a laugh. he sets his plate down - he wasn't hungry, anyway - and knocks his mask back into place, previously askew. "you're not my therapist."
"why not?" tommy's still eating.
"because you aren't."
"great argument, dream."
"shut up."
tommy's laughter is almost sadder than silence. dream turns only a little, just enough to look at his messy hair and dull eyes.
"uh..." he starts, "i know this won't make up for it, but-" he summons his trident. "you wanna have some fun?"
tommy looks at the weapon, then up at him, head still on his shoulder, and smiles something small. it's all dream needs. it's all he has, now.