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Day One
“I mean, it’s seven days at most. It could be less. I wrote it; I know,” Dream was saying, but it sounded distant, like it came from far away.
“Can I...can I have some more potatoes?” he heard himself saying.
“Of course, Tommy,” Dream replied, his voice impossibly gentle. It reminded him of another time, of exile...no, no he wouldn’t think about that.
Tommy was dimly aware of potatoes thrown at his feet, but he couldn’t really see them. Come to think of it, he couldn’t see much, really. The walls felt like they were closing in. Where was Sam? Where was Phil? The buzzing in his ears grew louder and louder, and another resounding boom shook the cell, taking him back to Logstedshire. No, he wasn’t going to think about that. He wasn’t…
But he was there, Dream lighting a match above the explosives. “It’s for your own good, Tommy,” he was saying. “You can get more things, but you need to work for it.”
“I’m the only one who cares about you, Tommy.”
“I’m all you need, really. Here, I’ll even let you keep your armor today, because we’re friends.”
“ Tommy . You’re going to come with me...or I’m going to burn your discs.”
“Tommy! Tommy, can you hear me?” and suddenly he was snapped back to the present, except it wasn’t any better, really. The man in front of him didn’t have a mask anymore, but he was still the same Dream that tortured him in exile, that threatened to kill Tubbo, that--
“Tommy,” he repeated, his voice still infuriatingly gentle. Tommy was dimly aware of a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. Dream’s hand. He felt sick and squeezed his eyes shut.
Sam, please.
“Here, let’s sit down,” Dream was saying. “Let’s get away from the lava okay? Here we go…”
Everything was so confusing. Dream did this in exile too, acted so gentle and caring one second, and then the next hitting him and yelling at him. He knew Dream was trying to trick him, but he still ended up letting himself be guided to the other end of the cell, where he sat down next to him. And when Dream removed his hand and moved away a little bit, he almost found himself missing his presence. Why was he using the same tone Techno would when he got flashbacks after the exile? Why was he acting the same way Sam would when he started panicking?
Once the world stopped spinning around him and he could feel the obsidian under him, he focused on Dream. His stomach clenched again, but he told himself to breathe, like Phil had taught him.
“Are you...okay?” Dream asked, tilting his head at him. He reminded Tommy of a predator sizing up his cornered prey. Though his words were caring, his eyes were hard and unsympathetic. That was the thing about him, really -- his face was full of expressions, and he seemed to have trouble masking his true feelings. Which is why he wore the mask, probably. Well, you’re going to have a hard time tricking me this time, bitch.
“You know…” Dream said, after a period of silence. “You’re going to have to talk to me eventually. We could spend a long time together.”
Tommy pointedly ignored him.
BOOM came another resounding explosion above them. He clenched his fists.
“You’re shaking. You know, it’s okay. It’s only you and me here, and nothing can get in and hurt us.”
Okay, breathe , Tommy told himself. If it was right after...well, back then, he would’ve been sent back to a flashback. But he’s talked to Techno, and Phil, and Sam...and Sam in particular taught him something, he remembered.
“I know something that my parents taught me when I felt like everything was out of my control, and I needed to be grounded,” he remembered Sam saying. “You might’ve heard it before. You find five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste.”
“That’s a lot of information, big man,” he remembered saying with a shaky laugh.
“Okay, okay, let’s narrow it down. What are five things you can see, right now?”
Okay...obsidian, Dream, lava…
That was unhelpful. Fuck you Sam, thanks for nothing.
“ Tommy, ” Dream said again.
He groaned and willed the familiar spark of rage to flare up in him again. Anything but the awful, cold dread he’s felt since Sam’s message. “Fuck you, Dream,” he managed.
“He speaks!”
“Fuck! You!” Honestly, he didn’t care that those were the only two words he can come up with.
“Okay, okay. If you don’t like me, that’s fine ,” he said, his voice going cold. Tommy shivered. Just like before, it was gentle and caring one second before doing a total 180. “But we’re stuck in here, together, until Sam figures out his shit, and we’re going to make the most of it. Let me remind you that you only have one life left, so don’t even think about jumping in the lava, or trying to--to, I don’t know, fight me or something. Because it’s not going to work. We just have to sit here and deal with it, and I’ve been sitting here and dealing with it for a long ass time , so I would know.”
Tommy took another deep, shuddering breath. A small, small part of him wanted to agree with him, or at least act like it. The part of him that dropped his armor at exile, that shrunk away from that tone of voice. But he was different now, he told himself. He was better. His friends had helped him through it, and he was doing better . He refused to let a few sentences from Dream send him back to that mindset, not when he worked so, so hard to get better.
“I think I’m just going to go to sleep,” he muttered.
Dream nodded. “Okay,” he said, his voice impossibly gentle again. God, why was it so hard to understand him? “We don’t have beds, obviously, so...well, you get used to it. Having a perpetually stiff back, haha.”
“I don’t need to get used to it,” Tommy snapped. “Sam will be back. Soon. Maybe even before I wake up.”
“Whatever you say, Tommy,” Dream replied, a smile in his voice.
“Fuck you,” he said again, trying to get comfortable against the obsidian.
“Goodnight to you too, Tommy.”
Day Two
Tommy dreamt of exile again. The nightmares had gotten fewer and fewer, when he was working on the hotel with Sam, but they were back with a vengeance.
Dream blowing up Logstedshire, his explosive anger when he found what Tommy was hiding.
The tower he built, desperate for an escape.
He even found himself in Techno’s house, hearing Dream’s voice as he searched for him.
He woke up sweating, sitting up immediately to get a better look at his surroundings. Right, he was in the prison.
“Good morning,” Dream said. Tommy stiffened. Right. Dream. “Good night’s sleep?”
“Did Sam come back?” Tommy asked instead, because Dream knew he haunted his sleep, but he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of saying it.
“What do you think?” Dream asked dryly.
“I don’t--I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t he come back?”
“Maybe the security threat was, like, big. Or,” he said, letting a heavy pause punctuate his words. “Maybe...he doesn’t want to come get you? I don’t know...just an idea.”
“No, no, he would come,” Tommy rushed to counter. “He would. He’s my friend, Dream.”
“I don’t know, Tommy. I mean, coming from someone who used to be your friend, you’re quite a nuisance,” he laughed. “Like, how much of Sam’s stuff have you stolen since you’ve become friends? How much have you used him. No, no, before you cuss me out, just think about it. You’re a parasite, and I mean this in the nicest way possible. Maybe, since he’s legally allowed to leave you in here for a whole week, he’d want to?”
“No, no, shut up. You’re doing that, that, that thing again. That manipulating thing. I’m not listening to you again Dream, I’m not.”
“You can choose not to listen,” Dream said slowly. “It was just a suggestion. We can move on, though. What have you been up to?”
“No, fuck you Dream! I’m not making conversation with you!”
Dream laughed again. “I know you, Tommy.”
“Stop -- why do you always say that you know me? You don’t!”
“I know you,” he repeated. “And we won’t sit in silence for long. You can’t stand it. In fact, if I wanted to punish you, and I might , if you keep misbehaving like this, all I’d have to do was ignore you. And I’m sorry for not wanting to argue all week. I really think we should at least try to talk.”
Tommy itched to retaliate, to say something . But he would just be proving Dream’s stupid point, so he clenched his mouth shut and looked at the ground.
“Fine, Tommy. Let’s see how it lasts.”
It lasted for hours, actually. At least, it felt like hours, though Dream would probably argue. Hours of mindless boredom, of Tommy picking at his nails, tapping on the ground, doing anything to take his mind off of the other man in the room with him. Which was hard, really, considering he was just sitting there, writing in his stupid book.
The boredom reminded him a lot of exile, really. How Dream would leave him alone for hours or even days on end, leaving him itching for company. How he would come back and Tommy would be happy to see him, against his will or better judgment. He was so desperate for interaction -- it was pathetic, actually.
Anyway.
“Can I--” Tommy finally broke the silence. “Can I, um...have a book, maybe? To write in?”
Dream scoffed. “No. Remember when you were throwing that baby fit? Throwing everything in the lava? I told you it was the last book I was giving you.”
Tommy reached for the familiar spark of anger again. It was comforting, really, to have something to turn to. “I said give me a book, bitch!”
Dream laughed. It was the same laugh from before, the same day they locked Dream up. That just shows me how powerless you are, and how powerful I am! That’s not even the real disc! I’m just playing with you! “I said no, Tommy.”
“Oh, this is great for you, is it, Dream? I want something, so now you have power over me. You and your stupid obsession with attachments.”
Dream laughed again. “Can you blame me? This is the most entertainment I’ve had since you and Tubbo!”
“Fuck you!” he said again, sounding like a broken record.
“Okay Tommy, I’ll make you a deal. If you hold a normal conversation with me, I will let you write in a little diary or whatever you want. Just one, though.”
“Fuck you.”
Day Three
Sam still wasn’t there.
Tommy had drifted in and out of sleep for the last day. He didn’t call out for Sam or Phil aloud again; he didn’t want Dream to know how desperate he was. It was humiliating that he broke down in front of Dream the first day. He still called out in his thoughts though, repeating the words like a mantra: Sam, please come back. Don’t leave me here with him, Sam, please . Even though it was obviously impossible to reach him through his mind, it was still a comforting thought, that maybe Sam would sense his distress somewhere. That maybe Sam was working to save him.
Boredom made him impossibly tired. He wasn’t really a napper, and he shouldn’t be especially with Dream in the same room as him. He never quite felt relaxed enough to fall into a deep sleep, but quick naps were the only way to escape the boredom.
One unfortunate side effect was that his internal clock was quickly derailed, especially since Dream apparently misbehaved enough for Sam to keep a clock from him.
Another unfortunate consequence was that Dream kept fucking staring at him. Every time he woke up, he looked up to see Dream just piercing holes into him with his gaze. Fucking creep.
Finally, the boredom got too much. He didn’t even know if he was three days into it yet. Minutes creeped by like hours, and Dream’s mask haunted him every time he slipped into sleep to escape it. Then, he’d come back, and his face was just there . It was inescapable.
“Okay, Dream,” he said finally. “I’ll talk, for, like, five minutes, if you give me something to write in.”
“Let’s go!” Dream said, and Tommy hated how it sounded like genuine excitement. “I knew you’d come around, Tommy. We can be friends again, just like the old times.”
Tommy swallowed. “Five minutes, okay?”
Dream moved a little and sat down cross-legged in front of him. Tommy tensed, feeling a little cornered against the wall. “What have you been doing?” he asked. “Since you put me here?”
Tommy looked down, avoiding the piercing green eyes. “I started a hotel. Me and Sam built it.”
Dream hummed. When Tommy looked up again, his gaze was calculating. “So you and Sam, you’re friends now? I don’t remember you hanging out with him before.”
“I mean, yeah, we’ve gotten close recently, I think. I mean, I don’t really talk to Phil or Techno anymore, and Tubbo’s, like, really busy with Snowchester, so…” his voice trailed off.
“You don’t talk to Phil anymore? But you called for him. Earlier, when the explosions first happened,” Dream said, each word chosen carefully.
“Yeah, well, I was being an idiot,” he snapped. “Obviously Phil couldn’t hear me, and he wouldn’t care if he did.”
A pause. “Do you think, maybe, Sam felt pity? Remember whenever people like him would visit during the exile, leaving gifts? Like Ranboo? Remember whenever they felt bad that you couldn’t see the Christmas tree, and made you one, but you were smart, Tommy, and you saw through it and found out they were meaningless. Because they were just pity gifts.”
“I remember the pity visits, Dream,” he said, biting his lip. “But I think Sam’s friendship is genuine, I really do. We spent a lot of time together, while you were here.”
“So did you and Technoblade, but then he joined me and blew up L’Manburg, remember? Remember when he betrayed you?”
“I don’t want to talk about Techno. I know I fucked up that relationship, and I apologized.”
“I’m just saying, Tommy, why hasn’t Sam come and gotten you? It’s been, what, three days? Surely a security threat doesn’t take that long.”
“Shut up. It’s been a day at most,” he lied. “Sam’s coming. I know he will.”
“I’m just looking out for you, Toms,” Dream said, and again, there was that frustratingly gentle, pitying voice.
Tommy stood up. Suddenly the room felt too small. Were the walls always that close? “Shut up!” he said again. “Shut up with that -- that fucking pity voice you have. It won’t work. We’re not friends, Dream, and we’re never going to be friends.”
Dream stood up too, and Tommy felt that familiar, instinctive lurch of fear in his stomach. But Dream only smiled. “I knew you still had it. See, you know when someone’s being fake to you. Why do you put up with Sam’s fake kindness?”
“It’s not fake kindness! You gave me fake kindness with the--the exile, and the discs, and pretending to be my friend!”
Real anger flashed across Dream’s face for the first time. He took a step forward, and Tommy took a step back, hitting the wall. Again he wondered if the cell was always so small. “How dare you?” he spat. “How dare you call my kindness to you during exile fake. You were all alone and I was the only person to help you.”
“How did you help!” Tommy exclaimed. He wanted to back down, but he remembered what Techno had told him all that time ago, after the exile. It wasn’t your fault. He wasn’t your friend . “You destroyed my stuff, every day. You tricked me, you sent out fake invitations to my party! You’re the reason Tubbo exiled me in the first place!”
“No, you’re the reason Tubbo exiled you, and don’t you forget it,” Dream said, getting closer. “You ruin everything on this server. You burned George’s house down for no reason, your stupid fucking obsession with those discs got L’Manburg destroyed, and you almost got Tubbo killed. If I had succeeded in killing him, it would have been because of you. Sam just sees you as his new project , just like the prison used to be, because you’re a poor pitiful child and he needs something to do.”
“I’m not his project,” was all Tommy could force out in a whisper. “I’m his friend .” He tried to move, but Dream shot out an arm, trapping him against the wall. He felt helpless in a way he hadn’t since he and Tubbo faced off against Dream, and he was making him throw his armor in the hole again. Would it have been his fault if Tubbo had died? He was the one who dragged him into all of it, he got them involved…
Dream was laughing. “You don’t really believe that.” Suddenly a hand was grabbing his chin, forcing him to look up. “Look at me, Tommy. It’s just me and you in here. Just like the old days. Now,” the grip tightened, painfully. “I need you to apologize for calling me a bad friend. Because I’m all you have.”
“No one cares about me anymore.”
“That’s not true.”
“No one cares about me!”
“Oh, Tommy.”
“No one cares, do they? No one showed up to my party! And it’s the one thing, the one thing they had to do for me, after exiling me and fucking me over, and not one of them came with me. And...none of them care about me anymore. Because I’m not in L’Manburg anymore.”
“I care about you, Tommy.”
“No, no, no,” he realized he was muttering. “You’re lying, I know you are.”
There was a crack , and suddenly his cheek was throbbing. He looked up, dazed, and realized Dream had stepped away from him, fury in his eyes. “You--you hit me,” he said. “Sam doesn’t -- he doesn’t do that.”
“And I’ll do it again!” Dream yelled. “Until you get it through your thick head. I’m the only one who cares, Tommy! Sam doesn’t hit you because he pities you. But clearly he’s done with you now!”
Tommy stumbled to the corner where Sam usually sent the potions out. His way out . His instincts were screaming at him to leave, but there was no escape, other than standing in the corner and praying for Sam to be there. “Sam, Sam, I want to leave now,” he said.
Dream laughed. “He’s not coming, Tommy.” He stepped forward. “Are you going to apologize now?”
“He’s going to come back, I know he will,” he said, mostly to himself. Dream’s eyes flashed with anger again, and suddenly his wrist was in a vice-like grip, hard enough to bruise, and Dream was pulling both of them to the other side of the cell.
“Dream, let’s be -- let’s be rational about this, now --”
“No, Tommy, you know what? I’m done with you. I’m tired of convincing you that this is in your best interest. You clearly don’t believe me, and you don’t care that I’m trying to help you, so I’m done wasting my time!”
“Dream, please--” he tried to yank his hand back, but he couldn’t bring himself to hit Dream or anything else that would help. He vividly remembered what happened when he fought back in exile. They were right in front of the lava now, and the fire lit up Dream’s eyes.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t throw you in Tommy. Give me a reason.”
“I -- I don’t -- please , Dream --”
“Exactly. Your life is worthless.” They were so close that the back of Tommy’s neck burned with the proximity.
“I’m sorry, Dream, I’m so sorry--”
“No, Tommy, that doesn’t mean anything to me. You had your chance before, but now that your life is in danger, you speak up? That’s bullshit. But...I suppose I am merciful.” The grip on Tommy’s wrist loosened, and he collapsed to the ground, the adrenaline making his head light. “Just don’t push me like that again, alright, Tommy? I don’t like to get mean.”
“Yes, Dream,” he whispered.
“Good.” Tommy was aware of Dream stalking off. He still seemed pissed.
“Are you mad at me?”
“Yes, Tommy. Now leave me alone.”
Day Four
“I’m sorry, Dream.”
There was no response.
Day Five
“Dream?”
No response.
“Dream, please.”
“Yes, Tommy?”
“Can we...can we talk?”
“Sure, Tommy.”
He took a deep breath, ignoring the crushing relief he felt at finally getting an answer. He sat up and saw that Dream was far away, against the back wall. He couldn’t help but scoot closer, craving human company. Dream smiled at him, and it was a genuine smile that made his heart warm. He didn’t like it when Dream was mad at him. Maybe he’d let him keep his stuff today?
No. He wasn’t in exile anymore. Sam had his stuff. Sam, who would be back soon now, who was dealing with the threat outside.
Sam, who...left him alone with a killer? Who could have gotten him killed if Dream lost his temper?
No, Sam didn’t know that was going to happen. It was a security threat. He’d be back.
And Dream wasn’t going to kill him.
Dream was still watching him, the smile still on his face. “I can tell you about the time before you came on the SMP, if you want?”
“I’d like that,” Tommy said.
They talked for the rest of the day (well, Tommy’s perception of a day). Dream passed him a raw potato when he got hungry, and he got closer. Dream told him about how he discovered the land with George, and started building the community house (which, for the record, Tommy didn’t blow up). He talked about how Sapnap joined, and what they got up to in the early days before people. He talked about when Sam joined, and hesitated then, but Tommy didn’t say anything again about their friendship, so he continued.
It was...nice.
But there was still a knot in Tommy’s stomach that told him it was wrong , something was not right about it. Dream’s killed him twice, he caused his exile, he almost killed Tubbo.
But then, he talked animatedly about his old friends, and his eyes lit up, and he made Tommy laugh, and he genuinely acted like they were friends.
It was so fucking confusing.
After a while of talking, Tommy found himself up against the wall next to Dream. He yawned, and Dream gave him a soft smile. There was a silence, then, but it was comfortable. Nothing like the stony silence of yesterday, when Dream ignored him.
“I forgive you, Tommy,” Dream said suddenly.
“What?”
“I forgive you. For our fight the other day. You apologized yesterday, but I was still mad. Well, hurt, mostly. But I forgive you.”
“I’m glad,” Tommy admitted, relaxing. “I didn’t like you being mad at me.”
Dream grinned and reached over to mess with Tommy’s hair. He stiffened slightly, and the wiggle of unease wormed its way into his stomach again. “I’m glad we’re friends, Toms.”
“I’m just glad I’m not in this place alone,” he said with a nervous laugh.
“Yeah, it sucked. But we’re not alone anymore,” Dream said.
“Yeah, we aren’t.”
Day Six
“Dream?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t think Sam’s coming,” he said, hating how his voice trembled. Of course Sam wasn’t coming. He was a pity project, wasn’t he?
“Oh, Tommy,” he said softly, voice sympathetic. “I’m sorry.”
No one cares about me , he remembered saying, about the stupid party in exile, the first time he realized people weren’t actually always there for you when they said they would be. And it’s the one thing, the one thing they had to do for me, after exiling me and fucking me over, and not one of them came with me.
“And you warned me,” he said, tears prickling the back of his eyes. “I understand now, why you never delivered the party invitations, I think. Because nobody would’ve come anyway. Or...or fucking Ghostbur would show up, or maybe Ranboo or Sam, out of pity! And it wouldn’t mean anything, because they don’t actually care about me.”
“I’m sorry,” Dream said. “It’s a hard lesson to learn, isn’t it? That you’re all alone. I had to learn it. I had George and Sapnap, like I was talking about yesterday, but when it counted, they left me. And I wanted you to understand that that always happens. People always leave you, in the end.”
Tommy nodded, wiping at his eyes furiously. “Yeah, yeah, I think I get that now.”
Arms wrapped around him, comforting, and he melted into it, burying his head into Dream’s shirt and hugging him back. “It’s okay,” he heard him saying, “I won’t leave you.”
He didn’t hug many people, not really. He remembered trying to hug Ghostbur, once, only because he regretted not expressing his affection to the actual Wilbur as often as he should’ve, because though it was naive, he had a thought once that maybe Wilbur could’ve been fixed, could’ve gotten better if he had been hugged or loved more. But Ghostbur just felt cold and empty. It was one of the first times he realized it was not Wilbur, though he had the same face.
He remembered clinging to Tubbo like his life depended on it after -- after Dream -- well. After all that. Then Tubbo retreated to Snowchester and buried himself in his work, building weapons and stockpiling supplies.
He missed Phil’s hugs, he realized, back when they were a family. Before Wilbur got the manic light in his eyes, before L’manburg and the discs. He remembered once, after a particularly bad yelling match with Techno, Phil was there, right when Tommy needed him, with a welcoming embrace and comforting words. He choked back a sob at that memory. Now Phil was cold and distant and always at Techno’s side, and Wilbur was dead .
He felt a hand in his hair, comforting, just like Phil used to do, and he fell asleep with the thought.
Day Seven
When Tommy woke up, Dream wasn’t next to him anymore, but rather on the other side of the cell, pacing by the lava. He looked agitated in a way Tommy hadn’t seen since their fight, and he felt a pang of fear. Did he do something wrong?
“Dream?”
Dream turned around to see him awake, and his features softened again into a familiar smile. “Good morning, Tommy.” Before he could respond, Dream barrelled on. “We need to talk. About escaping, maybe”
“Escaping? Is that even possible?”
“I think it could be if we have someone on the outside. Listen, I sent a message to Ranboo, before you visited. It was through Sapnap.”
“Okay? What did it say?” Tommy asked, his mind racing. Was Ranboo behind the blasts?
“That’s unimportant. You can mention it to him without mentioning the contents, and he should help. He’s helped me before. That’s one ally. Sapnap is not an ally, and you need to avoid him, okay? He said he’d kill me if I escaped, and I believe him.”
“Wait, wait,” Tommy interrupted. Annoyance flashed across Dream’s face for a moment, and Tommy tensed before barrelling on. “You’re saying this like I’m already out of here. I’m not.”
“Look, Tommy, Sam’s taking his time getting you out. We established that, right? But it’s not going to be forever . No matter how long it takes, your sentence is probably shorter than mine, considering my sentence is literally forever. Also, Sam usually visits every once in a while, and you can ask what’s taking him so long, and we’ll convince him to let you out, okay?”
“But I...I caused so much wrong here...what if he decides it's easier to let me stay in here?” Tommy said, anxiety filling him. Did Sam even care enough to let him out if he asked?
“No, no, we’ll convince him, okay? At least to a less maximum security cell. And the justice system here is fucked , but I feel like you at least will get a trial if he wants to keep you here.” Dream waved away his concerns. “Now, are you going to let me finish, or not?”
“Right. Sorry.”
“I forgive you, Tommy. Now, as I was saying, go to Ranboo, not to Sapnap. You might be able to convince Bad to help too. He was sympathetic when he visited me earlier, so he might be willing to help you out. And finally Technoblade.”
Tommy laughed nervously. ‘I don’t really want to get Technoblade involved, really, we can do it without him.”
“Tommy,” Dream said sharply, and he shrank back. “You know, sometimes it feels like you don’t want me to escape. That it was all a trick, and you’re going to leave me.”
“No, no, Dream,” he hurried to explain. “Please, I do want to help. I’ll get Techno, I swear.”
He smiled. “Good. So you’re going to track down Technoblade for me, right? He owes me. All you have to do is tell him I’m cashing in the favor he owes me, okay? I saved his life, so he’s going to save mine.”
“Okay,” Tommy said slowly. “Then what?”
“Figure it out, Tommy, I can’t hold your hand the whole way,” Dream said with a scoff. “I’m going to be in here. I’ll be on the lookout, of course, and I’ll be ready to go, but you’re going to have to do the work, okay? I’m sure Technoblade can come up with a plan or something, he’s a smart guy.”
Tommy nodded, thinking. He really didn’t want to work with Techno after everything, but he had to, he supposed. For Dream.
“Tommy,” a voice said. It was coming from the lava. “Tommy, are you there? I’m so sorry for taking so long.”
Tommy froze, locking eyes with Dream. “Is that Sam?”
Dream nodded. He looked...concerned? Apprehensive? Angry?
Tommy tore his eyes away, speaking up. “Yeah, I--I’m in here, bitch,” he said, forcing some of the normal bravado into his voice. “I haven’t disappeared since you, you know, forgot about me.”
“I’m so sorry Tommy, you don’t...here, I’ll explain once I get you out of there, okay? Just stand in the corner like normal, I’ll get you over here.”
“Wait, Tommy,” a firm grip on Tommy’s arm made him look up, where Dream was leaning over him. “Don’t forget, okay? Don’t leave me here. And don’t. Tell. Sam. ”
“Relax, Dream, okay?” He laughed. “I’ll get you out of here, big man. I won’t forget, um...I won’t forget what you taught me.”
You’re all alone. Nobody cares. Except for me.
“Good,” Dream said with a smile. “Good luck out there. I’ll see you soon.”
Tommy gave him a little salute, stood in a corner, and the potions came down. There was an uncomfortable lurch in his stomach and a flash of pain and darkness, and then he was back.
And was promptly tackled in a hug. “I’m sorry,” a voice said in his ear. “That wasn’t supposed to happen. Everything went wrong at once.”
Tommy stiffened. That wasn’t supposed to happen. It was nothing like the gruff “Warden Sam” persona that was on before, and it definitely wasn’t the version of Sam that was painted in his head at the cell.
Sam pulled back, probably sensing his uncomfortableness. “Are you okay?” he asked, concerned etched in his face. He lightly brushed Tommy’s hair back, hurt flashing across his face when Tommy flinched back. “You’re bruised. Did he hurt you?”
“I -- I --” he stammered. He’s faking it , a voice whispered in his head. It sounded like Dream. He doesn’t really care. You know who really cares about you . He forced a smile. “I’m all good, big man. Ready to go home.”
Sam visibly relaxed. “I’m sure you are. Let’s go.” He placed a hand lightly on Tommy’s back, guiding him away.
Tommy looked back in the direction of the cell, and his stomach clenched. He knew what he had to do.
Deep inside, under layers of lava and obsidian, the prisoner grinned.