Work Text:
Tommy looked blankly at the front of his tent. He didn't want to leave. Not yet.
He wanted a break. Please don't make him leave. He didn't want to leave. He didn't want to talk to Dream. He never did.
There was a tightness in his chest. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't—
There were footsteps outside. Please. Please, no. He just wanted to go home. He wanted to see Wilbur, and Techno, and Phil. He wanted to see Tubbo.
He thought about what torture Dream would induce on him today. Obviously physical, but what kind? With what weapon?
His question will be answered soon, he supposed.
Dream’s aggravating voice cut through his thoughts. “Tommy, get out here already!”
Tommy sighed and stood up, his head already hurting. He walked out of his tent and put a hand up, protecting his eyes from the sun.
“G’mornin’, Dream.”
Dream didn't grace him with a response. “Items in the hole, yeah?” He started digging a hole.
Tommy’s hand went into a fist but dropped his stuff into the freshly dug hole anyway. His arms slightly went up, and he suppressed a flinch from the blast.
Tommy was tired.
“Hey, Dream?” Dream didn’t answer. “When’ll exile be done with?”
Dream walked up to Tommy. He grabbed his chin with a rough hand. His calluses pressed into Tommy's face. Dream’s jaw was tight, and he looked annoyed.
“When you learn your lesson.” Dream finally answered.
“Awright. Sorry.”
Dream stared at him. “What’d you say?”
“...I said sorry?”
“No, the other one.”
“Oh. Awright?”
“That’s not how you pronounce 'alright,' Tommy. Do you need English lessons too?”
“No, Dream. I’m sorry. It’s aw—alright.”
Dream was quiet for a few seconds. “Okay.”