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“You’re not going anywhere.”
Tommy shuddered at the words. He risked a glance around the stack of barrels he was currently hiding behind. Dream was in the warehouse with him. Dream was in the warehouse with him. He was so fucked.
It had been 6 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days since Tommy had escaped his friend. Abuser? Enemy? Victim? Dream. He’d escaped Dream. Trying to put a label on whatever they’d had never failed to make his head spin, and he couldn’t afford that right now if he wanted to get out.
He squeezed the communicator tightly in his left hand. It had shorted out as soon as Dream started the low electrical current throughout the building. His-- the guy wasn’t an idiot, after all. Still, Phil had told him he’d get notified if Tommy ever went offline. He just had to hope that his friend (Leader? Father? Prime, he was bad with labels) would arrive soon. If he even cared enough to. Tommy shook the thought away. Phil had promised. He had yet to break a promise to Tommy, unlike the masked man currently calling out taunts and lies as Tommy tried to remember to breathe.
It was hard with the electricity thrumming throughout the room. It made his skin buzz uncomfortably, his hair stand on end. He remembered when he was younger and Dream would cast on his hair, Tommy squealing with delight as the long strands appeared to float in the mirror. He had a feeling that if he looked at his reflection right now, he’d probably throw up.
He flinched as loud cracks began to sound throughout the room. He could see boxes being thrown violently from where they’d been resting. Dream was shocking them. And he was getting closer.
Tommy sucked in a shaking breath. He could do this. He had to do this. He wouldn’t go back to Dream. He wouldn’t.
He waited until the next crack before sprinting farther towards a wall, taking cover behind another stack of barrels. His heart was pounding in his ears, but Dream didn’t immediately lunge at him, so he assumed he’d made it unnoticed. He continued the strategy for the next five cracks , ending up on the opposite side of the room Dream had been in before. This was where he had started, and he could smell smoke wafting up from scorched wood. He hoped it wouldn’t catch. He couldn’t handle Dream and a fire at the same time.
And so they went, in circles and circles, Dream growing increasingly frustrated while Tommy grew increasingly exhausted. His heart was still beating erratically, although less from anxiety now and more from exertion. He’d lost track of all the cracks Dream shot. He began to go through the movements, falling into a rhythm with the man.
Then Dream shot a bolt, an actual lightning bolt, and Tommy was thrown onto his back. He hit his head on something hot and hard, and he blinked stars out of his eyes as he tried to remember where he was. Right. Warehouse. Dream.
Dream.
“I knew you were in here…” Dream cooed, previous irritation erased as he crouched down next to Tommy. “I have got to say… I thought it would be harder to track you down. Those people sure have a loose grasp on you, don’t they? I’ll be sure to take better care of you.”
Tommy wanted to crawl away, to escape, to do anything other than lay still as Dream ran his staticky fingers through his hair. It was shorter than it had been all those years ago, but he knew it was long enough to float.
“Oh, Tommy, Tommy… things were so good. I loved you, you know. Still do. That’s why this hurts me.”
His hand left Tommy’s hair, going down to his chest. He made contact, and Tommy spasmed. It was like he was being shoved down again and again, although Dream’s hand never moved. He was pretty sure he was screaming. His shirt was burnt. The room smelled like charred meat. He felt himself nearing the brink of unconsciousness.
He was going to die.
“He needs a weapon.”
“He does not need a weapon.”
“Phil, look at him! He can’t defend himself barehanded.”
Tommy wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not. Wilbur was brushing his hair just like Dream used to do as Techno and Phil began arguing about him. Again. He felt a little guilty but wasn’t brave enough to speak up.
“You want him carrying around a gun? He’s gonna end up shooting his own bloody foot off.”
“Not a gun, then. I’ll settle for a knife.”
It was strange being given any sort of tool. He’d never needed one before. Dream took care of all of that stuff. Tommy would probably mess things up if he tried to do anything. He knew the world outside of the beach was very dangerous. Knew there were monsters and hybrids and all sorts of terrible beasts thirsting for blood. Knew that without Dream, he was as good as dead. But he was safe with Dream.
Tommy had always believed he was safe as long as his friend was at his side.
He wasn’t going to die.
He didn’t think twice about what he was going to do, the consequences, the irreversible change this would make to everything. He just knew he wasn’t going to die.
Tommy fumbled for the knife, muscles screaming as they continued to be assaulted, and with one keening wail, he brought it up, up, up into Dream’s exposed stomach.