Chapter Text
“One and…two…”
“One of you is gonna die, and one of you is gonna live,”
“And the thing is, it’s your choice,”
Those words echoed in Tommy’s head like a mantra. He had hated Dream from day one, always did, and that was something he knew would never change.
That was the only similarity he and Dream shared.
No matter what anyone did, no matter what Dream himself did, Dream was never satisfied. Not with the disks, not with L’Manburg being destroyed, not people dying by his own hand.
It was never enough, and even stuck in prison, Tommy knew it was only a matter of time before he found himself in a cell of his own. One created out of the memories that he could never escape.
Letting out a yell, he swung his axe as hard as he could. The tree he had been working so hard to chop down finally tipping, snapping with a loud CRACK before laying idle on the ground.
Anger was pumping through his veins as he hauled the wood back to the Big Innt Hotel.
The wind whipped at him, his hair turning into a matted, rats nest.
Though he couldn’t prove it, he swore that he could hear Dream’s laughter in the distance.
Fuckin prick…fuck you, fuck you, Dream…bastard…
He tossed the wood into the ever growing wood pile, ready to feed the ever hungry fire that warmed the hotel.
“Toms! Big man, thanks for getting that!” Tubbo appeared from- seemingly out of nowhere. It was a strange talent he had. Probably picked it up over the years of having to creep around people like Jschlatt.
Tommy’s bones shuttered at the memory of that man. The way he stood, how he talked, like how everyone, Quackity included, was beneath him.
It was terrifying how heartless a man could be. And in Tommy’s case, several men.
At least people like Wilbur had…somewhat of a reason to eventually fall.
Tommy was sure Dream was born in hell.
“Big man?”
Tubbo’s soft voice of concern pulled Tommy from his sudden spiral of thoughts.
He quickly shook his head, trying desperately to clear the thoughts of the people that had crept so suddenly back into his head.
“Fuck- sorry, mate. Got lost in thought for a moment,” Tommy gave Tubbo a goofy, half-hearted smile.
Tubbo tilted his head to the side, his eyes softening as he crossed his arms across his chest.
“Zoned out?”
The tone in his voice gave away the concern that had worked its way into Tubbo’s anxious mind.
Him and Tommy both had adjacent rooms in the hotel. Tommy was unaware that Tubbo could hear him tossing and turning in his bed, leading to sleepless nights. He was unaware that Tubbo knew about his nightmares thanks to his screaming that he thought the walls were too thick to hear through.
Tubbo always pretended to be asleep when he heard his door creak open and Tommy would curl up on the floor next to his friend’s bed.
He was always gone before Tubbo officially got up.
Tommy never wanted anyone to know how he was hurting.
But today must have been a rare day for Tommy. The second Tubbo’s voice hit his ears, his shoulders sunk down.
“I…just thinking…” Tommy’s voice came out softer than he meant it.
Tubbo glanced around. No one was supposed to be coming in tonight, and well, if someone did? There was a bell for a reason.
“Let’s go sit down for a little, okay?”
Tubbo opened the door to the little private office behind the front desk, grabbing a bag of chips and a coke for Tommy. He knew that he had probably not eaten at all considering how much work Tommy had put into the hotel today.
When Tubbo walked inside the office, Tommy was already sitting in the chair he always sat in, the one farthest away from the door.
He knew there was probably some reason floating around in Tommy’s mind, whether Tommy was aware of it or not.
Tubbo slid the food and drink over to Tommy, but Tommy just stayed how he was, knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them.
“Do…” Tubbo took a breath. “Do you want to talk about…what you were thinking about, or just sit for a moment?”
On the rare occasions that Tommy did mention his feelings, he never went deep into them, just explained that he wasn’t in a good place and left it at that.
But it must have been an even rarer day.
Tommy actually looked up, and spoke.
“About- well…it was about a few things, but mainly..it…it was…was about Dream…”
That name left a sour, ugly, bitter taste in Tubbo’s mouth the second it hit his ears. He did everything he could to forget about that man, and it had become easier with him locked away in the prison.
But hearing that name brought back every cruel memory Tubbo tried so hard to forget.
“Oh um…” Tubbo tried to hide the nerves that found their way into his soft voice. “Well…Dream’s in prison now…”
Tubbo, back when he was president of L’Manburg, would always try to settle problems carefully, tiptoeing around those who were perfect timebombs, ready to explode. Always ready to defuse.
This ended up being a great trait to have as a president. It made him likeable, reliable. People knew that Tubbo was always one to end a conflict.
Hell, he was practically known for it.
However, this was a terrible trait to have with his currently angry, hot-headed friend.
“That doesn’t matter, Tubbo! Prison- it-!” Tommy didn’t realize that he was now standing, his chair skidding back as he did from the force of the stand.
“Out of all the people I know, Tubbo, you know how dangerous and fucked up Dream is-! Prison is nothing to him! It’s a fuckinig vacation!”
Tommy’s heart was already starting to pound at his chest, throwing itself painfully against his rib cage.
Tubbo winced at Tommy’s yelling, his shoulders shrinking back, his own voice going with it.
“But Tommy, he- regardless, it’s…we don’t have to worry about him much anymore…Sam guards that prison twenty-four seven- and Quackity- he…fuck me, Tommy do you hear about the things Big Q does to Dream?”
“I don’t give a FUCK about Quackity!” Tommy’s eyes had nearly narrowed to slits, glaring down at Tubbo.
Tubbo tried to find the words to say, to help the situation, to calm Tommy down, just like he used to do with others.
But this was not a disagreement between two nations.
This was Tommy, angry, broken, scared.
So he said nothing, instead running his hands through his hair, fingers brushing against his horns.
Tommy saw defeat painting the features of his friend’s face, bringing him back to where he truly was.
He sighed, slumping back into his seat and resting his head on the table.
“Sorry…jus’...” There was a pause in his words. “Stressed, I guess…doesn’t feel real that he’s…y’know…gone?”
Tubbo smiled softly and pulled his chair over to where Tommy was, resting a hand on his back, tracing small patterns on Tommy.
“Well he is…he is gone. He’s locked away in that prison and he’s never getting out…as long as no one goes in there, then we all are safe..”
Last time someone went into that cell with Dream, they ended up dead and a worse person than they were alive.
Tommy still blamed himself.
But Tubbo…was right…at the very least, he could pretend that Tubbo was right. That they all are safe.
And maybe, for at least right now, for the sake of his friend, he would go along with it.
So he smiled and rolled his eyes before tilting his chair back a bit like how he always used to do back when he still lived with Phil, and Wilbur was still Wilbur–
He really needed to stop thinking about people for a day.
“Yeah…yeah you’re right, Tubs…”
He looked over at him.
“Thanks,”
✧*̥˚ 3:00AM *̥˚✧
Even though rare things had been happening that day, the day was not special enough to allow Tommy to sleep.
He was once again tossing and turning, thoughts running through his head faster than Tommy thought was even possible.
Point for me, I guess…
Tommy’s fist collided with his mattress before he dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, groaning with utter frustration.
He was frustrated at a lot of things, at himself for being so uptight and paranoid, at Tubbo for seeming to not understand how he felt- at Dream-
No.
He forced his thinking to come to an end, not wanting to end up in another panicked spiral.
I’m not doing this for another time today…
It seemed like he had been laying there for both seconds and hours, trying to follow the breathing techniques Niki had shown him during their time in L’Manburg together, after any loud sound would send Tommy into a debilitating panic attack.
Tubbo’s words were playing on repeat in his head, a broken record unable to stop spinning.
Dream was in prison.
He is. He is in prison. That is a fact.
Sure, the last time Tommy visited Dream things didn’t go as well, but that was different. He tried to kill Dream during that time.
Lofty goal, he knew.
But this time would be different. It would be a visit. Just a simple in and out.
Go in, see how much security is there, see Dream chained to the wall, and leave, knowing that Dream truly was stuck there till the day he (somehow) died.
Mentally forming his schedule, he realized that he would have a whole entire day, not only free, but a day that Tubbo would be gone as well in just a couple days.
I can make it…I can make it till that day.
Tommy would be lying if he said he didn’t feel just the slightest bit giddy.
But he would worry about that at a later date. Probably as he was in the prison, right when he was about to meet Dream.
Procrastination was his strong suit, everyone said it, himself included.
Maybe that was the reason behind why Tommy had put this off so long. Maybe he was just procrastinating.
It’s definitely a Tommy thing to do.
It was easier to admit he just didn’t feel like confronting Dream, or just didn’t care enough to do it.
It was easier to tell people that than to admit that he was scared.
Scared that Dream, even behind bars and pools of lava, still had power and control over him. Just like when he was stuck in exile, alone, helpless, afraid.
He swore to himself that he would never wish that feeling on his worst enemy, but Dream was worse than that.
He hoped Dream felt just as powerless as he had.
Tommy could once again pretend to.
So he let his mind wander, his thoughts drifting to the prison, to Dream locked away in his cell, too exhausted from Quackity’s latest beating to pace the small space he had.
He imagined Dream holding the smudged letter that had been folded and unfolded so many times it was ripping. The one that was from George. The person that everyone knew Dream loved more than he loved himself, more than power, regardless if Dream admitted it or not. He imagined his eyes scanning that letter over and over again, the comfort it once gave him slipping away, along with any hopes of ever being free.
Tommy nearly let out a lighthearted snicker as images of Dream, crumpled to the ground, head buried in his knees, tears threatening to fall, filled every corner of his mind.
It felt liberating, almost therapeutic in some way to imagine such a terrible person in such a terrible state.
With a smile on his face, Tommy’s eyes finally fluttered closed, and for the first time in…who knows how long,
Tommy slept very well through the entire night.