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Tommy knew this darkness. He’s been here before, this place, this situation. He’s seen the void, the number of times he joked about it staring back at him, with the saying; I stared into the void and it stared back, he couldn’t even count the amount of times he’d joke about it with the horrible truth hidden behind it. It was enough times for it to stop being funny, enough for tubbo to get annoyed, enough for Ranboo and puffy to be concerned, enough for Sam’s eyes to look away from him. It was consuming darkness, the kind that gives a slight pull once in a while, reminding you how DEAD you are. It was the kind that no matter how many times you’ll breathe air again, It will always remind you that you aren’t supposed to, that you’re still somewhat dead even if you’re obviously not.
It was like a prison inside a prison, not counting the one he woke up in. Like hundreds of boxes inside a big black box, and inside all of them was his soul, his alive self. Slowly losing breath, slowly disappearing, turning to ash. So yes, he knew this darkness, he lived it for months, even after death. Wilbur lived it enough for his alive self to become nothing, even his ash dissolving into the nonexistent air.
He talked to him, he saw what it did to him. He talked to ALL of them, some of them sounding like they are the void itself at this point, like they aren’t even the remaining ash, but the black box trapping it. He recognised some of them, people from the revolution and war, friends from the past and neighbours from the present. Some he even recognised from his childhood, old folks his so called father sometimes traded with, old grannies that brought him cookies when he was still young and naive, children he used to know that died from a common disease.
Some talked back when he tried making conversation, some stared into the void like he wasn’t even there, and some looked at him, but turned away with a blank or sad smile, not saying a word. He used to get frustrated, but slowly doing the same, as the darkness called him.
And he was here again, after all this time. Wilbur wasn’t here to play cards with him this time, as he was alive, unlike him. But he couldn’t seem to get bothered by the thought. The void called to him so loudly in the living realm, and he was almost relieved that he was back here, with the noise now being much MUCH quieter. He sighed in the quiet, glad for the relief coming with the absolute nothing surrounding him. Even so, the suffocating feeling of dread becoming stronger by the minute made the relief almost nonexistent, blending with it and creating some kind of love hate situation.
He felt nonexistent, unlike anything in the world, unlike anything in death. Everyone kept looking at him, staring and backing away, like he was some freak. Their faces weren’t full of pity, which he was somewhat glad for, but they seemed scared of him, some of the more alive ones seemed almost terrified. They did stay away, which he was extremely glad for, but sometimes he did felt hurt by the glances of fear. Sometimes.
“When I'm furthest from myself (Far away)”
The darkness began to be extremely suffocating, playing with his mind. He kept seeing people, his family, friends, and other people that he knew were very much still alive. They always smiled, and he hated them for it. They weren’t even real, but he always felt they were lying to him even though they never said a thing, their smiles always seeming forced.
His memories kept repeating in his head, reminding him of all the horrible pain he used to feel when he was alive, how he couldn’t feel it anymore. It filled him with fury he didn’t remember having, anger BURNING in his soul, consuming everything else. He didn’t remember feeling anything at all last time he was here, so he desperately kept fuelling his anger in fear of losing it to the void.
“Feeling closer to the stars (Outer space)”
So he screamed into the darkness, begging it for relief, for everything to stop. And it yelled back at him with no remorse, so loud that it hurt, shaking the air around him. And wasn’t that ironic? Pain in death. It was like being alive again, but the calling of death didn’t pull him, as he was already dead. So he kept screaming, crying without real tears, as it cried back, poisoning and melting him with it’s own. Like lava without heat, like pain without blood.
And he KNEW he wasn’t the same as the others, because of how they looked at him with curiosity, fear and concern, and he KNEW this wasn’t normal, because nobody screams here, and no one else heard the loud screaming of the void echoing him, no one felt these tears that didn’t exist. And he felt the void pulling him further, he felt himself melt into the darkness unlike any other soul, and he became these prison boxes far earlier then he should have, and his dust was black lava, and he stared at himself instead of the void.
“I've been invaded by the dark (Can't escape)”
The void became a mirror, and there was nothing on the other side. A blank mirror, only darkness reflecting it. And he continued to scream, he continued to cry his pain and emotions into the void, and as he did, he saw his blurry reflection slowly come into view in the mirror, smiling creepily as it cried too, it’s eyes black and his hair white. He touched his mouth, his eyes widening as he felt his lips making a similar creepy smile.
Slowly, (he couldn’t pinpoint how much time had past but he felt as it had been thousands of years) he began to see his reflection becoming clearer, he noticed how he was lacking color, his shirt white and his pants gray. He noticed the dark bags under his eyes, he could see his pale skin becoming black in the tip of his toes, fingers and ears, like the time he had frostbite. But most importantly, he saw the thick black tears that flowed down his face, dripping endlessly. He raised his hand to touch them, his smile still creepily staying on his face considering him being anything but happy. The black liquid gave a sticky texture, sticking to his fingers but still dripping fast enough to be tearlike. It was pure black, not staining but still a bit gross.
He remembered the looks of fear and concern people gave him, and he now understood. He DID look strange, he had looked different. He touched his pure looking white hair, numbly running his fingers though it. It was so unnatural looking, but he wasn’t as bothered as he thought he should be.
He then grabbed his eyelids, pulling them apart and examining his eyes as if he was a doctor, or a scientist, looking for a sickness or a problem, examining them as if they weren’t his. He examined the black pupils for long minutes, at some point realising he normally should have needed to blink by now, forcing a blink, the action making him cringe. He stopped focusing on his eyes, now begging to look at his skin with curiosity. He felt no fear or panic, only a small concern for his weird state and lack of emotion. Yes, he was still angry, but his fear seemed to dissolve with his soul, his alive self, which he found refreshing, yet worrying that he was so far gone, that even the dead now feared him.
“Trying to recognize myself when I feel I've been replaced”
Suddenly he felt a familiar pull, one he remembered as clear as day. He remembered a long time ago fighting against it, so he had done the same now, not wanting to be completely far gone just yet. This time however, he succeeded rather quickly with fighting it, as the pull stopped, and the strings seemed to rip from him. He was surprised by that, remembering the last time he got this pull. The strings seemed so strong and thick back then, and he felt so helpless, unable to do anything as he was dragged to the land of the living. This time however, all he needed was a bit of resistance, and he was free.
“I can feel a kick down in my soul
And it's pulling me back to Earth to let me know”
He turned his gaze back at the mirror, surprising him with a now blank one, his reflection gone. Without thinking, he reached out to it, wanting to touch it. The blackness called him, encouraging him to touch it. He couldn’t find to strength to resist, to pull away. It felt so welcoming, like he could become even more of a part of the void, like he could destroy the black box, making it into whatever he wanted. He wanted control over himself, he wanted the darkness, because everything else was pain. Life was pain, and the pros had never seemed to outweigh the cons.
He felt as even if he’d try he wouldn’t be able to pull away at this point, the mirror pulling him, reaching towards him, grabbing at his pale and nonexistent skin, burning it but reminding him how worse it could be if he was alive. It was liquid like, reminding him of his new colored tears. It almost covered his whole arm now, regardless if it was inside the mirror or outside it. Soon the darkness covered his vision, the spreading black liquid pulling him fully into the mirror.
“I am not a slave, can't be contained”
Now that he was inside it, he felt again. And oh gods had he felt. He felt the dread leaving him, an empty feeling of being complete replacing it. He felt as if he had no meaning in his existence, like he was spacial, but not enough for the universe to consider him important. He felt his anger return, a want to be important, to be enough. He didn’t want to live, but he wanted to have at least a bit of meaning to his existence.
“I am someone!” He cried into the darkness. “I am enough to be!”
“So pick me from the dark and pull me from the grave”
And so Tommy, not for the last time, stared into the void. And not for the last time, it stared back. And it understood. It accepted his wish. And it had sympathy for him, for his poor existence. And for the first time since the beginning of the life, for the first time EVER, death felt something for humanity, for life.
They felt something for this boy, that had suffered so much, gave everything, and received nothing. All for it to end so quickly, all for him to realise how he is nothing compared to everything. And he is so deep already, how hard could it be to just let go and make him more? They remembered stories and made up tales of a soul collector. Grim reaper, humans called it. Death had laughed about it then, but now it seemed more like an idea then a thought.
So then death reached his hand, letting go of their power, gifting it to the crying teen. ‘So small,’ they thought as they’re mind began to disappear with they’re power leaving them, ‘and so so very young.’ They felt for the first time in a millennia, and they were not about to let this feeling go to waste.
“You will be someone, child. You may not be now, but you will be.”
And that was the last thought, word, and act of the being called death, before they let their existence merge with the universe, their power flowing through the white haired child.
“I still feel alive”
Tommy now FELT the void, he felt the dead. He now is in charge of who is in this prison of darkness, he is in charge of destiny, fate, the end of time, and the souls that had left the world of the living. He was in charge of death and all it entails, and it scared him. The world SHOOK with fear with him, every soul shivering. He wasn’t in charge of the beginnings, but he was of the end. And that’s a half of everything, because everything end.
He knows this more then anyone. And he can now MAKE people end, make places end, make time, stars, species, all of it end in a second. He was a god, and no pull of strings can bring him back to life, because he is nothing but life. But he is still Tommy, he is still somewhat human, isn’t he?
He cried harder at the thought, biting his lip and weeping. It’s so unfair! He is someone, he is more then ANYONE, but it is still so hard! How could he handle this, when he couldn’t handle any kind of responsibility like this before? He messed EVERYTHING up, every single time! He got so many people killed in the past, so who’d thought HE was the one fit for a job to decide which one deserves death and who doesn’t? Why is everything so fucking hard?! Why is he responsible for everything every single time?! It’s too much power for him, much more then he can handle, and he is scared.
“When it is hopeless, I start to notice”
The world rained with his tears, making floods everywhere, hundreds dying from his grief. He cried and cried, and his family and friends thought of the convenience of the weeks of rain, coming right after their friend’s death. Soon the rain turned to ice, and so did his heart.
‘why?’ He bitterly thought, ‘why me? I had suffered so much, I did so much, why MORE?’ He continued to grief, thinking of everything that had happened to him, of his exiles, of L’Manburg, of his home blowing up so many times, of his brothers, of his father, of his friends betraying him one by one, of every single person he used to know stopping to care, just thinking of him as either a bother, or a stupid and destructive child, sometimes both. He remembered Tubbo, and Wilbur, and Ranboo, and Fundy, and Quackity, and Eret, and technoblade, and just so many other people hating him for simply being him.
“And I still feel alive”
His eyes turned cold from thinking of dream, remembering exile, and the wars, the armies that got killed, the people that suffered because of his tyranny, his friends and family suffering, HIM suffering. He then hated the thought TNT, and he wanted it to STOP. And it did. He could end anything, because he is the end. And if he wanted something gone, there will be nothing stopping him.
He shivered in fear from his realisation of what he had done, of the millions of creepers that will be no more. Millions of lives gone in minutes, all because he couldn’t stand the thought explosions that can’t even kill him anymore. So he quickly fixed his mistake, saving as many as he could. It was less then wanted to save, but he did what he could. Again he cried, now in shame and fear, because he shouldn’t have this responsibility, he shouldn’t. It’s too large of a responsibility, and the one who gave it to him was reckless and an idiot.
“Falling forward, back into orbit”
While the land of the dead is much much slower in time then the land of the living, the realm of the gods is as quick as lightning, a thought of a god stretching for months for mortals. So while for Tommy it was less then a minute, for the alive the carnage was slow and steady. Creepers slowly began to disappear, gunpowder suddenly becoming as rare as diamonds, until gone from the world. People questioned the disappearance of the creepers, now spawning with a chance of one to a thousand. TNT was as rare as netherite, and they were now kept in enderchests instead of normal ones.
Most people found the change strange and sudden, but few began to feel uneasy with the weird shakes of earth, some saying it was the end of the world, others saying it is the the gods fighting each other. Regardless, the rain became ice, and the shakes continued.
“So, when I lose my gravity in this sleepy womb”
Winter was harsher then ever, the ice and snow almost never stopping, never giving a break. Tommy felt the cold killing, so he tried to force himself to stop, but he couldn’t. He was too emotional, too mad to feel mercy, too bloodthirsty for Dream’s soul. Yet dream had protection, a warm place to stay alive in until the end of winter, Wilbur accompanying him. But others didn’t, so others died. Some he made sure to be safe, people he knew, villagers he remembered were kind to him back when he was alive. He kept them warm, calming the storm in their aria and pushing it towards a wasteland next to it, like a sea or desert. So yes, the winter was harsh, but he wasn’t done yet with his emotions.
He calmed himself in spring, making a stop from his crying and screaming. He breathed heavily, running his fingers through his hair, and took a break. And with him away, his counterpart took over. He didn’t know her, and he hadn’t seen her yet, and he didn’t think he ever will. They were too sides of the same coin, he thought, they were so similar, yet could never meet. She opened flowers in fields, and made the trees green again, and flooded the rivers in clean blue water. She made new life of all kinds, and Tommy looked away from the beauty of it all. He will admit he was a bit jealous, and as consequences from his jealousy he took some of her new life far quicker then he was supposed to. He saw the young souls and cried, horrified from what he’d done.
“Drifting as I dream, I'll wake up soon”
‘They were so young…’ she said to him with sadness in her eyes, and he nodded in regret. ‘I know, I’m sorry.’ She smiled at his answer, the sadness staying in her eyes. ‘Thank you. They were never sorry. I appreciate it.’ She said, as spring became summer. He had still continued to wander what she meant then, who she talked about, up until he saw he again, even if had not expected to.
Regret quickly turned into sorrow and rage, sorrow for the children and rage at himself. He was furious, the heat killing the crops and dissolving the water. Many died of his heat and hunger, and that made his self fury boil even further. The ground was dry and dead, and hundreds of farmers lost their business from the unexpected heat. death continued his carnage.
When fall finally arrived, he felt the loneliness creep in. He felt a need for his family, the one he hated so much. Now his tears were of loneliness, they were soft and non stopping, gentle at first and overflowing later. He hadn’t had any wind left, just quiet tears of wanting conversation. The leafs fell down as he did, and he allowed life to step in more, giving her the water she needed in the summer. She grew her plants, and he watered them, and his sadness continued.
“To realize the hand of life is reaching out”
When winter arrived, he finally felt that this was it, and he needed to visit Wilbur and dream. This was necessary, he needed this or he will never get over it, and who knows how many years he will continue to exist? He is death, and he is the end, so will he continue to exist, until there is nothing left to stop? He stopped his train of thought, and looked for the way out. Once he looked around far enough, he noticed a mirror in the darkness, and went through it, not exactly knowing what’s on the other side, yet hoping for a way to the mortal realm.
“To rid me of my pride, I call allegiance to myself”
Thankfully, as he left the other side of the mirror, all he saw was familiar blinding light. He blinked once and then twice, not used to the light as he lived in complete darkness now, but he got used to it quickly, as a result from his eyes not hurting from the sudden light exposure like when he was alive. He walked around trying to guess his surroundings, until he saw a small pond. Curious, he walked towards it, and touched it once to clear it, making it almost mirror-like. Not a lot new, he thought, as he stared at his reflection. The white hair didn’t grow much, and he hadn’t changed in his face as well, the tip of his ears and fingers still black and and his skin still pale. The bags under his eyes hadn’t went away as well, and he thought they probably would never.
However, his clothes had changed, which he hadn’t thought they would. He wore a white buttoned dress shirt, the tips being sown to be longer in the back in a royal looking way, two triangles flowing behind him. He had a belt now, all black and simple. His pants were still gray instead of his usual light brown, seemingly loosing all the color they had. He did have some kind of color back, he thought as he looked at the golden jewels he seemed to wear all over. Some necklaces, several rings, bracelets on his legs and arms, a choker, earrings, and a small crown decorating his head.
This was too much, way too much, and he felt as he needs to get rid of at least SOME of them. He didn’t feel much bothered by them, not as much as he thought he would have in the past, but the amount made him feel uneasy, like he doesn’t deserve wearing them, especially with the amount of people he killed in the past year. (Has it really been a year? It felt like a few days, not a lot more then that…)
Carefully he pulled some of the rings laying them on the grass next to him, then taking off some bracelets, leaving the simple ones and taking off the ones looking like only royalty wear. He took three necklaces off his neck, leaving one necklace and the golden choker. He found the earring attractive so he kept them, (despite not knowing how he even has them considering he never pierced his ears) and decided the crown was somewhat necessary.
All of the jewellery had several types of patterns on them, all in theme of the things he liked or were an importance in his life. His bracelets had either disk patterns or LOOKED like his disks. the rings had the texture of cobblestone and one had what he thought at first was a butterfly decoration, then realising it’s actually a moth by the pattern on the wings. The necklaces had the l’manberg flag patterned on them, the X’s dangling with thin gold chains and the flag itself being all over the place brought him joy. (If he noticed a music note or a guitar here and there too he ignored it quickly.)
The earrings had two hearts dangling from them, which he first thought was weird but then he remembered, ‘oh yeah, I did die more then a normal person should,’ which made more sense for the pattern to be hearts. Which finally leads to the crown, that had two more hearts carved on it, making the number of hearts on his jewellery clearly matching his number of death in life, and in the middle of them was a skull carving, and that was was pretty obvious to guess why.
Normally he would be uncomfortable wearing jewellery or anything to remind him of his past like this, but this time he thought it wasn’t as bad. It actually looked pretty good, and the parts that made it uncomfortable didn’t bother him anymore considering he didn’t feel anything. What he would do with the unnecessary jewellery though, that was the question. He would keep them for now, he thought to himself, they seem important, and a bit personal too.
He grabbed the air and made a leather bag out of it, and put the jewellery he didn’t want to keep inside it. Putting the bag on his shoulders he got up, checking his surroundings again. To his surprise the green grass he thought he stood on was now gone, only ash remaining. The water too was quiet, and he noticed a couple of fish floating above the water, all of them corpses. He gulped down his nausea, and began to float to avoid touching the ground and killing more then he already has. Soon after he searched, quickly finding Wilbur’s mark.
At the start of this whole experience he noticed something about every living person. Everyone had a death mark. It was in the soul, and it told you when you’re supposed to die. He firstly saw it and thought he was imagining it, but then considered it might be a part of his power. He could find traces of them in the air, all around him, letting him rewrite their fate as he wished. Wilbur’s was long overdue, and then it got reversed somehow, then scrambled, becoming non existent, until it settled on glitchy. He had ANOTHER time set for him on when he was supposed to die on top of his old one, which again, is more then most people get. Tommy probably had one too, considering he was revived as well. but he can’t know for sure since the dead’s mark disappeared when they, well- die, so he didn’t have one now.
Anyway, because Wilbur’s was so weird looking, it was so incredibly easy for him to track him down. Not that he had, but he didn’t have to look around much, easily spotting it, like searching for the black sheep in a herd of white ones. Rising above the treetops, he flew towards the direction of the mark, smelling his power more and more as he flew towards his location. Surely enough, he spotted several smoke clouds, scorched earth, and several bodies laying on the ground. Not feeling the need to fly in this place as it was stinking of death, he stepped on the earth, mentally apologising to life for his existence. He walked in the direction he knew was the way, hearing voices talking in the direction, and he hid behind the remains of a building, listening to the conversation.
“I swear to you, something is here!”
“But what IS here?! You keep saying that, but I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“It feels like the train station, it reminds me of limbo too much for my liking. It smells like ash… and gunpowder.”
“Gunpowder? I haven’t smelled that in months. I don’t smell anything… are you sure?”
“YES I’m sure! God, will you please trust me on this? As much as I want to kill him and right now, if something more powerful then the both of us attacks, I don’t want to be the only people it sees.”
That was enough for Tommy. He touched the debris slightly for it to fall and make some noise, alerting the both(?) of them. He slowly stepped away from his hiding spot, feeling his usual grin on his face. He could almost never stop making it, only when his sadness is becoming too overwhelming, or when his rage is burning forests.
“It’s good to see you again, is what I would have said if I were a liar. Hello again Dream, Wilbur.” Tommy said, as Wilbur’s pale face became paler, his eyes widening with a terrified glint in them. Dream was as unreliable as ever, but Tommy knew he had to be at least surprised. They both stared at him as he continued to walk forward, carefully not stepping on any corpses or blood puddles. Soon he noticed another mark behind dream and Wilbur, and as he checked it, he found it to be scheduled for today. He grimaced, quickly changing it to the time they should die if they would have lived until they physically couldn’t, sighing in relief when he felt their fate change. He didn’t know this person, but this blood bath was enough for him to decide to save as many as possible. Excluding these two.
Wilbur seemed to still be in shock, but now remembered how to talk. “How- how are you ALIVE?! I killed you- we killed you!!” He yelled in panic, backing away. “Dream, dream PLEASE tell me I’m imagining things again, please tell me you’re not seeing this too.” He turned to dream, quickly turned down by the quiet shocked state dream was in, staring at Tommy.
Tommy chuckled, sounding as sincere as his smile looked. “Oh, I’m real alright. Very very real. I’ve checked, I promise. Multiple times.”
“But we killed you. You are dead, so dead we couldn’t even bring you back!” Dream suddenly said, his voice revealing his panic.
“You did. I’m not alive.” Tommy said, making the both of them jerk back.
“But,” he continued, enjoying the look of Wilbur’s being absolutely horrified, “I’m not exactly dead as well.”
The two seemed to pause, trying to make sense of his words. “So what, you’re some kind of ghost or something?” Dream asked, curiosity clear in his voice. Tommy chuckled again, talking a couple more steps towards them.
“No, far from it. You see, when I died back then, the void took over my entire existence, as a result from being alive while not being meant to stay away. In the end, the god of death heard my pleas for relief, and spared me from my suffering.”
Wilbur shifted in his place, his eyebrow furrowing, while dream seemed to be more aware, his attention even more focused on Tommy.
“So, you’re blessed by the death god, is that what you’re saying?” Dream asked, all while Wilbur kicked the ground in frustration.
“All I had to do to get relief was just die again? I would have done it way earlier if I had known that…” Wilbur grumbled, loud enough for Tommy to hear as well.
“I am sort of blessed, yes, if you consider taking the god’s place being blessed. I wouldn’t though, being death is a pretty horrible job I would say from experience.” Tommy said in a casual tone, making the duo freeze.
“What- taking the god’s- huh?!” Wilbur stammered, blinked again and again. Dream just stayed quiet, scanning him.
The world seemed to be still, only the wind whistling in their ears, as the two swallowed the words, trying to make sense of the meaning. Dream started to slightly shake, gripping his hands. Tommy only raised an eyebrow, playing with one of his rings.
“You’re bluffing.” He said, his voice shaking. Tommy’s smile just widen, making a grin he supposed would hurt for mortals to make, yet for him it was almost natural. “I am not.” Tommy said back, taking another step forward, but stopping in the air like an invisible staircase, making him float. At that Wilbur’s face paled further, frantically looking at his feet, then his golden jewellery, until reaching his pure white hair, then returning back to his feet and so on. Dream seemed to flinch from the action, shaking and gripping his fists harder.
“You…” Wilbur started to say, his voice scared. “You’re the reason the void changed. I- I knew there was something different, the rain, the snow, the heat, it wasn’t the great calamity, it was you. I thought death was just messing with me, telling me to give up, to join you…” he stopped, raising his eyes to look at his, ashy brown to pitch black.
“It was. I had a horrible meltdown, and accidentally flooded everything.” Tommy said, sorry in his voice, because really, he was sorry. Dream jerked from the words, his shaking radiating anger. “Accidentally?! ACCIDENTALLY?! What- what’s WRONG with you?! You killed thousands, you ruined MILLIONS!! You mean this wasn’t even a GRUDGE against anyone, that all these dead are for NOTHING?! That all this loss, wasn’t even on PURPOSE?! There were sacrifices, people praying for the gods to save them, and the actual reason was because a CHILD was angry?!” He spit, surprising Tommy.
“I thought you didn’t care about anything.” Tommy said, showing his surprise. This seemed to get another reaction out of dream, and that only surprised him further, because what the hell? He never did that.
“This was called the great calamity!!! If spring didn’t do come, we would have all died!! Of course I care, the fucking world is at stake! This-“ he spread his arms, mentioning the discord around them, “is a sacrifice! We are all working together, the kingdoms are at stake, we have no choice but to put differences aside!!” Dream yelled back at him, making Tommy freeze.
This… he didn’t think this would happen. Had he really killed this many? He hadn’t MEANT to, he didn’t want to kill them all. He just did, he didn’t know how to stop. Had he really ruined the world to such an extent dream had to pull his shit together? For them to make sacrifices for the gods, desperately hoping they would save them?
“I… I didn’t WANT to kill them. I didn’t WANT to cry rain, or freeze the world with hate, or rage in fire. I tried to stop, I did. Spring should be proof I did, because I wanted these people to live, I gave them what I could. But I was so… ANGRY. I didn’t want this responsibility, I didn’t want to continue to exist, I just wanted to be someone. I just couldn’t stop crying, and- and I might be smiling right now, but even THAT I can’t control. I just can’t stop.” He said, his smile slightly faltering, the wind becoming a bit stronger with his words.
Wilbur looked at him with fear in his eyes, looking frozen in place. Dream didn’t react, only shaking, but Tommy was willing to bet he’s trying to stop tears. “It doesn’t make it better.” Wilbur said, not yelling, just saying the harsh truth. Tommy looked at the bloody ground, as a black tear fell down his face, the sky replicating the action with rain. “It doesn’t.” He replied, agreeing with him.
Wilbur’s eyebrows furrowed, squinting his eyes. “And the creepers?” He said, tilting his head. Tommy felt the shame rising up, blocking his throat. “I hated the thought of TNT. I realised only too late what I’ve done. It’s the only reason there are any left.” He said, another tear going down his face, the rain becoming stronger.
Wilbur stilled at his words, blinking a couple times, then wiping his face, the rain wetting it. “So it’s my fault then.” He said, surprising Tommy again. “What? How is this your fault?” Tommy asked, confused. It was his, wasn’t it?
“I blew up l’manberg, I started it.” He said, stopping Tommy in his tracks. Then Tommy laughed, the rain stopping, the wind quieting. They both looked surprised by the reaction, and the way the sky replicated his actions. “You never started it Wilbur.” Tommy said, sadness in his voice, but his smile returning to one he came here with. “Dream did.” Dream’s shaking suddenly stopped, Wilbur turning his head to dream, then back to Tommy. “Dream?” Wilbur asked Tommy, waiting for him to continue.
“The first l’manberg war. Then exile. Then new l’manberg. the second exile. Doomsday. The final fight. Prison. Las nevadas. My fucking home, my house! Dream, every time I saw you, there had to be TNT involved!” Tommy laughed, rising upwards, floating higher. “Exile was horrible dream, you tortured me for months! And I didn’t even realise it after months in death! I had to stop feeling anything to realise I was being manipulated, abused! How funny is that dream? Hilarious! So no wander I hate TNT, no wander I wanted it to stop! How could I not, when the thought of you leads me straight to TNT?”
Dream stepped backwards, once, and then twice, his feet unsteady. Wilbur backed away from them both, looking conflicted, not sure what to do. Tommy only smiled wickedly, the air steady, not moving much like had done a moment ago. No one said anything, so he took that as an opportunity to talk more.
“You know, being death doesn’t only mean I’m in charge of ending life. I’m in charge of ending everything, anything! I can end places, countries like l’manberg, kingdoms like Essempie. I can end fucking planets, stars, the universe, I can literally end TIME. Not only that, I’m also in charge of fate, souls, change. Like the person behind you? He was supposed to die today. Not anymore though. I changed it, his fate, his time of death. His life could be miserable, ok, maybe even wonderful, but what for sure is that he will live for another 67 years, until he has a heart failure in the middle of summer, at 2:43 PM the twenty first in July.” He said, making them both stare at him, Wilbur looking creeped out, and Dream’s body language making him guess he has a similar face.
“Just like I know your dates of death. Which are not today, I assure you, I’m not planning to kill you. But you can probably guess what this kind of responsibility does to a person.” He continued. Wilbur looked to his right, and dream began to shiver again, but only slightly. “I assure you, I didn’t agree or wanted this. This job isn’t for me, I wasn’t supposed to have this. I could accidentally end the world with a thought if I’m not careful, I can kill anyone without even doing anything. This is too much responsibility, you saw what happened when I got sad, or angry.”
“So you’ll give your powers to someone?” Dream asked, Tommy sensing greed in the words. “That’s the thing.” Tommy said, tilting his head. “I don’t want to.” This seemed to get another reaction out of them, which he suspected of them. “What?” Wilbur asked, his voice quiet. “Why?”
“Because,” Tommy answered, his smile feeling sincere again, knowing at least Wilbur will understand him when he says this, “It’s finally quiet.”
***
“I still feel alive
When it is hopeless, I start to notice
And I still feel alive
Falling forward, back into orbit”