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It was cold in exile.
Tommy’s thin, ripped tennis shirt failed to protect him from the frosted tundra. Each night, he lay in his battered bed, waiting. For what, he did not know. Maybe it was for the bleak sun to rise. Maybe for someone to save him from Dream. Not that Dream was bad; Dream was good, fucking poggers even! Plus, no one would even visit, let alone “save” him. Why should they? He was just some kid that didn’t know how to shut up. No one wanted him, no one needed him. All he could do was leech off one person, and move onto the next.
Only Dream was there for him. Only Dream could be trusted. Only Dream could protect him. Only Dream was his friend.
Tommy (with much reluctance) got off his bed; if one could even call it that, more just thin sheets thrown on top of a plank of splintered wood. He shuffled over to his chest, prying it open. Tommy peered in to be met with the scraps of a carrot, and a moulding potato. He supposed it had been a while since Dream visited. Maybe he would today, with food even? Tommy’s abdomen churned at the thought, which was strange. Dream was his friend. So why did he feel he was going to be sick? Dream has only even been kind to him, and this is how Tommy repays him? If Dream knew, he would punish him; he deserves it after all. Dream was only trying to help, it was Tommy's fault for never listening.
He shuffled out of his tent, searching the icy plains for any sign of the masked man’s return. He watched the desolate area, a lone star in the finite space, there were once animals here; most ran at the constant explosions, those that remained were killed off by Dream. Leaving it now a shadow of its former glory. Tommy looked out to the ocean waters, under moonlight they danced to the sound of crashing waves. Although their voices called for him, dragging his heart along with its rhythm, he could never follow. Trapped on empty plains, forced to watch as freedom was blown along his mouth. It waited, patient, for him to kiss its salty shores; waited, while his lips were pressed shut by Dream’s stinging words.
At the lack of Dream's presence he wandered down to his farm. It was currently only growing wheat, it was all he could grow after all. Still in its early stages, the plants had only started sprouting. Tommy was looking forward to not depending on the green man for food. Even if he has to keep it a secret, (Dream would be pissed if he caught Tommy) it was his. Tommy strolled back to his tent, glad to know his future food source was growing.
Lost in his thoughts, Tommy’s eyes sparked, electric blue started again with reawakened hope. It dwindled when he saw the masked man approach; he cringed at the feeling, guilt swelling inside his guts. Dream’s netherite boots crunched in the snow; head bobbing up and down to airy footsteps. The man had a satchel hanging off his shoulder, the brown bag also bounced back and forth; maybe there was food in it? Tommy’s stomach grumbled and the idea, how long had it been since he’d eaten? That, he did not know, nor did he want to. As Dream walked closer, Tommy’s fight or flight started to kick in, he wanted to run. To where, he didn’t care. He just wanted to leave, leave exile, leave the server, just leave. “Tommy-y! I’m back!” Tommy only stared back, eyes glazed over. “I brought food, if you’re good I’ll give you some” At that he perked up, licking chapped lips. “Thank you Dream.” All the enthusiasm in his words was directed at the thought of food.
“You’re a lot quieter than normal, did my lessons finally work? The high and mighty Tommyinnit, silenced by my humble words! How you have fallen!” Dream’s words met their mark, he bit his lips; the only thing stopping him from retorting back. Dream’s smile was hidden by the mask, yet its presence was prominent. The man’s smile always unnerved him, something about his teeth for full show terrified him. It was as if Dream was a predator, toying around, batting about his prey; kicking Tommy down, again, and again. He creeped forwards, watching Tommy shuffle about. Unsure what to do, he fiddled with his hands, blowing on them in a poor attempt to warm up.
Dream sauntered past him, heading for his tent? Shack? He wasn’t sure, what he did know about his residence, is that it wasn’t a home. It never would be, his home was L’Manberg, the country his ‘best friend’ exiled him from, he missed L’Manberg didn’t need L’Manberg, and they made it clear they didn’t want him. Only Dream cared about him. On the topic of the man, he was currently searching the tent. Looking for anything to shout at tell Tommy to get rid of. He just prayed Dream wouldn’t find out about the farm he set up, so far he was lucky. The blonde’s stomach churned, both hunger and guilt crawled up his throat, wanting to spew out of him.
Tommy walked over to Dream, steps cautious, careful not to set off the beast in front of him. “You have finally learnt your lesson about not hiding things from me Tommy.” Dream’s mask tilted to the side, watching Tommy closely for any kind of reaction. He gave him nothing. “Yes Dream, I have.” With that the green man put an arm around Tommy’s shoulder and walked out of the tent. He tried not to flinch at the sudden contact, body tense. Part of him screamed for more, for Dream to coddle him in his arms; the rest of him knew better.
They stopped by the sea, Dream looked on at the crashing waves, lost in thought. After a minute's silence he faced Tommy, reaching into his satchel. His hand then left the bag, followed by two loaves of bread, it was soft and recently baked. His mouth watered, Dream had made these loaves of bread, made them for him. Dream placed them in his hands, still warm . He had to resist the urge to shove them in his mouth there and then.
“You’ve done well kid.” Before he would have snapped back at Dream for calling him a kid, he couldn’t care less now. “Thank you Dream” Tears pricked his eyes, and for once, they were happy. Dream lifted Tommy’s head, wiping away the wet trail, before pulling him into an embrace. Tommy nested in, head resting in the crook of Dream’s neck.
It ended as soon as it began. Dream pushed Tommy off of him. “Is that…” Tommy’s eyes bulged, breath short. He couldn’t have, Dream couldn’t have seen the farm, surely not. Almost immediately after he came to this realisation, Dream grabbed his arm, and was dragging him along the sandy plains. “Dream that hurts!” He only gripped harder, new tears ran down his face; these were not of joy. Soon, they reached the blonde’s farm, and Dream was livid. “What is this Tommy?” He just stared at his toes, not making an attempt to respond. Cold metal pressed against his neck. “Tommy, I asked you a question.” There was a swipe at his ankles. He fell. “I’m sorry Dream” He warbled lying down, like an injured animal. “I didn’t ask for an apology, I asked you what this is!”
There was a slap. His cheek stung, head thrown to the side.
“A farm. It’s a wheat farm.” Tommy gulped, perspiration wetting his forehead, even in the cold weather. “And what was one of my first rules Tommy.”
“Don’t grow any food.” Voice no more than a whisper, he was a sight for sore eyes.
“I thought you had learnt your lesson Tommy.”
“Dream I’m sorry! I won’t do it again, I promise!”
“Maybe I should give you a new punishment. Since the others clearly don’t work.”
“Dream no please!” The man chuckled, he was enjoying this.
“Let’s see how well you handle this.”
Dream pulled the sword from Tommy’s neck.
-The blonde relaxed a bit-
And plunged it into his stomach.
Tommy watched as Dream unbuckled his mask; it fell onto his hands. His eyes were electric green, pure instincts shone through, teeth bared as if waiting to eat. Dream’s animalistic expression was the last Tommy saw, blood pouring from his mouth, eyes accepting.
—
He shot up, sand falling from his body. Had he dreamt the past moments? Tentatively, he pulled up his shirt, inspecting his chest for any signs of an injury. Pink tender skin stared back at him. So it did happen, he was stabbed by Dream.Is he dead? Was this a kind of purgatory? Some fucked up Limbo? Tommy searched his surroundings, this was Logsetshire, or supposed to be? his tent was gone. In fact, all signs of previous inhabitants were gone. No dirt tower. No gaping holes. No puddles of blood on gravel beaches. Tommy now watched the bright moon, taunting its freedom as it passed by. Tommy wanted to be free.
Liberation was never his fate.
The waves crashed around him, lone ambience in a tormented mind. After minutes had gone by a boat leisured up to shore. It crawled along the shrinking ripples, jouncing along to an ancient melody. Tommy’s heart clenched at the sight, this object held more freedom than he has in seventeen years of living. It was pathetic. Unaware of his criticisms the spruce boat continued onwards to shore. To Tommy, to him . The only thing that wanted to be near him. Even Dream hated him, maybe this would be different. A fresh slate, a new day. It pulled into shore, mere metres from him. A ticket to salvation. His ticket to salvation!
Lacking any hesiantance, Tommy ran up to would be his key to escape. He would no longer be Tommyinnit of the Dream SMP, he would be Tommy from nowhere. No place to tow him back to, nailing him in place; simply Tommy, from plain old nowhere. He sat down in the boat, its boards free from splinters, wooden oars smooth and shiny; they fit in his palm seamlessly, as if crafted for him. With a final glance at the former Logstedshire, he pushed off to sea, to escape, to freedom.
—
He had been rowing for hours on end. Hope at any type of freedom, had long shattered, now replaced with a dying thirst. Once bright moonlight, now clouded by a brewing storm. Tommy continued rowing, each movement strenuous against irate water. All of his previous high had left. Maybe a short break was needed? He would just rest his eyes, get some strength back! He wouldn’t fall asleep! Tommyinnit , was no idiot.
With his mind made up, he shut his eyes, relaxed back, and drifted off.
—
Fuck fuck fuck
Tommy awoke to a sopping shirt, and water in his shoes. Waves rocked his boat, swaying them about. Tommy cupped his hands together in a desperate attempt to rid the salt liquid from the spruce planks. The frothed waters grew in size, now engulfing his miniature boat, each struck in close succession. The boat creaked, rocking around in chaotic waters. Another wave, Tommy’s hair clung to his scalp and forehead, his throat burnt as he hacked up water. The next slammed against starboard, leading the boat to swing dangerously close to the ocean waters on the left. Tommy clung to the wooden object for (quite literally) dear life, veins bulged as his hands were pale from the pressure.
The raft’s rocking slowed to a halt. Tommy relaxed back into his seat, now the storm had rolled over. Even the moon started to shine again! Tommy reached down for his oars, ready to continue traversing the large waters, he had a long journey ahead of him; he couldn’t wait to start afresh!
There was a sharp breeze, cool air snapped by him, leaving goosebumps on his arms. Tommy ignored the churn of his gut and the impulse to run. He ignored the growing clouds. He ignored everything but his boat. Even going as far as to ignore the emerging shade, that engulfed him whole. The deafening sound of breaking seawater went unnoticed by the blonde. The capsizing of his boat was marginalised.
He didn’t care that he was sinking, drowning even.
All that he could focus on was the restoration of his own free will.
As the water pulled him under, Tommy smiled.
He smiled as liquid filled his lungs. Watching as he frollocked with new friends.
He laughed at the memory, fucking chortled even.
His eyes shone bright blue; while seaweed tugged on his limbs, growing out his veins.
Tommy was a happy child man.