Chapter Text
Cut me a path, and I will follow it
Draw me a line, and I'll avoid it
I'm nothing if not obedient…
Tommy missed the sound of the waves.
It was a stupid, little thing he hadn't realized he would long for so badly, but he did. The obsidian walls that lined his room muffled the sounds of the outdoors, but he could always hear the waves crashing against the shore. Quiet enough to not be a nuisance, but loud enough that he wasn't trapped in complete, utter silence in the middle of the night, or even during his punishments, when he had no choice but to sit on his bed and stare at the ceiling and lose himself in the constant noise. It was consistent, never stopping despite how it may falter and quiet. There was never a moment of rest; the ocean roared or whispered, but it was never quiet.
The cottage was quiet. There were no waves outside, and while it may not be dead silent - the whistling of the wind, the rustling of trees, the crickets chirping - Tommy missed the sound of the waves, because that was what was familiar. He couldn't hear the wind or the trees or the crickets from within his room at the cabin. The absence of the waves and the new sounds that replaced it was unnerving in a way Tommy found impossible to explain, but everything about this… the cottage itself, the area, the room, it was strange, it was different, it was unnerving. Tommy hunched over in his bed, sitting cross-legged with his blanket pulled over his lap and the corners wrapped around him and his arms crossed over his legs as he stared out the window. It was right beside his bed, close enough that he could rest his head against the glass if he wanted. He couldn't stop staring, simply gazing at the torches and flowers littering the front yard.
It had been a few days now, since the cottage had been finished. Ranboo settled into their new home with such ease, Tommy wondered how he was so comfortable already - Dream had done the same thing, after he'd built the cabin, settling in so calmly while Tommy struggled for months to get used to the new arrangement. Adjusting wasn't made any easier; Dream's harsh treatment of him and the new punishments sent him reeling, shattering and scrambling to pick up the pieces before Dream could grind him into dust completely. He didn't have time to adjust to anything except the pain and the fear and the rules; he didn't have time to adjust to their home. Sure, he knew each room - except Dream's - like the back of his hand, and he could walk through the halls blind - he'd had to for a few weeks, he remembered numbly - but he never got used to it. The only thing he had familiarized with was his room, the obsidian walls and the small, cramped space. He could stand in the center of the room and not be able to spread his arms out fully to touch the walls, the room was so small. Tommy had adjusted to that rather well.
The blond didn't know if he could adjust to this.
Now that the cottage was finished, and he and Ranboo were settling in together, those doubts and fears and uncertainties that Tommy had done his best to stifle were making a vicious comeback. Ranboo was so nice, so understanding, so gentle and so careful and he'd been nothing, nothing but kind since the beginning - and Tommy was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was waiting for something, anything. A punishment, some rules to follow, some direction - because he didn't know what to do. He had no idea what to do with himself, and that was possibly the hardest part about all of this; having no clue what he was supposed to do here.
With Dream, it was simple. Tommy knew his role, he knew what to do. Sit still, look pretty. He was Dream's special toy, ready to be used, played with whenever the man wanted him. And when he wasn't needed, he was tucked away in the dollhouse, waiting to be played with again. And now he sat in a new dollhouse, with a new owner, but Ranboo didn't want to play with him. So Tommy didn't know what he was supposed to do. He didn't know what his purpose was here.
Grimacing, the blond rested his head against the wall beside the window and reached up to press his hand against the glass, laying his palm flat against the window. It was warm to the touch, not hot enough to make him recoil and not cold enough to make him flinch. Tentatively, Tommy traced his finger over the glass, reaching up slightly to trace the edges, connecting the corners with his fingers. He wondered if Dream would have allowed him a window in the cabin, even if it were only just a block. Maybe he would have, if Tommy hadn't been too afraid to ask. But now that opportunity had long passed, even if it was an opportunity the blond knew he wouldn't have taken in the first place. Now he had a window - now he had two windows - but he didn't have the cabin and he didn't have Dream. He had Ranboo, and Ranboo was… amazing.
But he wasn't Dream. He wasn't Dream, and that knowledge was as painful as it was reassuring. He wanted Dream, Dream who couldn't give him anything Ranboo couldn't offer. Dream, who hurt him and beat him and scared him. Dream, who had taken everything from him.
Dream, who was a monster.
Dream, who was his best friend.
Was he, now? Tommy had forgotten what defined a best friend. Dream was his best friend because nobody else was around, Dream was his best friend because he took care of him, Dream was his best friend because Tommy loved him with every fiber of his being - except now it was Dream who wasn't around, now it was Ranboo taking care of him, and did he still love Dream? Could he love Dream, after everything the man had done? He had killed Puffy, he had locked Ranboo away, he had sent Ghostbur off to die. He had done all of these horrible things to Tommy's friends, and he'd done horrible things to Tommy himself - but he knew that already. So did he love him, was it okay to love him, after all of the things he had done to everyone else?
He didn't know. But he did know he still loved the man, because his heart was aching with longing, and he wanted so badly to feel Dream's arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, claiming him as his own. He wanted to hear his voice whispering in his ear as he drifted off to sleep, he wanted to relax into the warmth of his hoodie, secure in the knowledge that he was safe - except that last part was nothing but a fantasy, something he knew he would never have. Because he was never safe. Never safe from Dream's wrath, no matter how gentle and kind and merciful the man was in the moment. And that was why he was here, with Ranboo, instead.
Ranboo was good, he was so good. He had done so much for him, and Tommy would never be able to repay it, but he wanted to try, he had to try. But Ranboo wasn't making it easy on him. There were no rules to follow dutifully, no tasks to carry out. He couldn't show off how perfect he was, he couldn't show off how obedient he could be, he couldn't show off that he was the perfect toy if Ranboo wasn't willing to play with him, and that was the problem. Ranboo would be a good puppetmaster, he would be a great puppetmaster, if he would only pull the strings. He had them, he had Tommy right where he wanted him and Tommy would move along with every little tug without a moment's hesitation, but Ranboo wasn't tugging. He was standing still and Tommy was left hanging by the strings Dream had tangled him up in and he didn't know what to do. What was he waiting for? For Tommy to fuck up, so he could show him the right way to act? Waiting for him to take a step on his own, so that Ranboo could yank him back and correct him?
Tommy swallowed and sighed, ripping his gaze away from the window to look back toward his room. He wasn't used to being able to look around at night; in the cabin, he found himself staring up at the ceiling, completely consumed in darkness. Was it odd that the open-ness of his new room was making him feel claustrophobic? He wanted to laugh at the thought, he wanted to cry, but he couldn't shake the feeling no matter how ridiculous he knew it was. His gaze was drawn toward the enderchest instinctively, watching the particles flicker around it, then let his eyes drift to where Bloom was curled up just in front of it, resting in a small pile of hay that Ranboo had given Tommy to arrange for her. He ached to get up and join her on the floor, but the little calf looked so peaceful, curled up and sleeping, and Tommy didn't want to disturb her.
So he didn't, only staring for a moment. Another thing Ranboo had done for him, giving her to him. She was so perfect; just looking at her, Tommy felt a swell of emotions he hadn't felt in so long. He loved her so much, and they'd only just met a few days ago, but he would die for her in a heartbeat. She wasn't like Dream, and she wasn't even like Ranboo. She expected nothing from him; he would take care of her, and love her, but he didn't have to be her puppet or her toy.
And she would love him anyway.
He didn't know why Ranboo had gifted her to him, but he did know she was the best gift he had received in a long time. He didn't know how to repay Ranboo for that, either, where to even begin. He felt overwhelmed at the thought; he had so much to catch up with, so much to make up for. He was trying to be good, he was trying so hard to be good, he so desperately wanted to be good for Ranboo, but he didn't know what the enderman hybrid expected of him and that made it even harder. But Tommy would do it, he had to, he didn't have a choice. He would learn one way or another. And if Ranboo decided, someday, that Tommy would need to be punished to get the messages across, then… then Tommy would take what he was given without complaint. Ranboo knew what was best for him, right? Ranboo wouldn't really hurt him, not for fun, not like Dream. If Ranboo were to hurt him, Tommy reasoned, then he definitely deserved it.
It didn't make him any less afraid. What was he afraid of? He couldn't tell if he was scared of fucking up just because he didn't want to be hurt, or if he truly didn't want to disappoint Ranboo.
Maybe it was a mix of both. He didn't want to be bad, he didn't want to be hurt.
He wanted to be safe. With Dream, he was never safe. It never mattered how good he was or how obedient or how much he tried to make him happy. Well, it did matter - it did matter, it did. Because even a happy Dream didn't hurt him as much as an angry Dream. A punishment was worse than being hurt just for the sake of hurting him, because that was real fury driving Dream's blows, because a punishment was a reason to swing and kick and punch and not stop until Tommy was unconscious on the floor. But Dream still hurt him even when he was good, and even if it wasn't as bad as a punishment, it was still pain, and Tommy was still terrified knowing that at any given second, Dream's gentle touches could become the exact opposite.
With Ranboo, Tommy was safe, because logically he understood that Ranboo wouldn't hurt him just for the hell of it. But would he punish him for acting out? Tommy wasn't sure. Ranboo had changed, and Tommy had changed, and they were both well aware of that. He just… he just wished he knew what to expect. He wished he knew the consequences of his actions, he wished he knew that was considered bad to Ranboo, so that he could avoid pissing him off or upsetting him - Ranboo said he didn't have to worry about that, but how could he not worry about it? He'd spent so long worrying about making Dream happy, keeping him calm. Everything he did, every single thing, it was for the sake of pleasing his best friend. Tommy didn't know how to stop, and quite frankly, he didn't want to. Because shutting his mouth, stepping back and letting himself be pulled along, it was the easiest thing he had ever had to do. Tommy didn't want to stop, because he didn't know how to go back to what he was before, and he didn't want to go back to what he was before - because that was what got him into this mess.
He was broken, damaged, wrong. Dream had fixed him, or at least he had shown him how to be better, and Tommy wasn't about to revert back to old habits just because Dream wasn't around. Dream wasn't the issue, not entirely. Tubbo had exiled him because of the things Tommy had done. Everyone had left him… no, no, no, no, nobody had left him, they hadn't left him, Dream had lied about that. Right? His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he considered that. He still didn't know how to feel about the others, about L'Manberg as a whole. Because he didn't know if they had truly turned their backs on him, or if Dream had done something to sway the odds in his favor. Even so, nobody had liked him back then. They had tolerated him, but they didn't like him.
And that never bothered him before, but he craved approval more than anything now. He craved Dream's approval, and a big part of him now craved Ranboo's. He wanted to please his friend, he wanted to make him happy. Not just for the sake of not being hurt, but because he wanted to be good. He wanted to know that he was being good. That he was doing something right for once in his life, after going so long - so long - doing whatever the hell he wanted without a care in the world for anyone else. Tubbo was right, and Dream was right; Tommy had been selfish.
The blond took a breath, forcefully dragging air into his lungs. He didn't realize he was shaking until he was snapped out of his thoughts by the feeling of his bed shifting, the mattress dipping.
Alarm was his first instinct, and he curled himself back into the blanket, cowering slightly as he lifted his gaze. Dream used to get upset at him whenever Tommy couldn't sleep, checking in to find the blond awake and snapping at him, and Tommy half-expected to see Ranboo there, prepared for his first reprimanding (and maybe even his first punishment) - instead, his eyes adjusted to see Bloom clambering up onto the bed, kicking her legs up off the ground and heaving herself up onto the mattress, tumbling into Tommy's lap with a soft, muffled bleat. Tommy quickly scrambled to pull her upright again, shushing the creature gently. "Easy, shh…"
Bloom pressed closer to him, nuzzling against his hands and plopping down into his lap. Wide purple eyes blinked up at him while Tommy tentatively settled his hand over her back, gently stroking through her fur while the young calf curled her legs underneath her and curled into a ball. The blond spared one last, nervous glance toward the doorway before he shifted his attention back to her completely, lifting his other hand to stroke her ears and scratch at her chin.
"Can't sleep?" He whispered, ducking his head slightly. Bloom stretched up, pressing her nose to his own and offering an affectionate lick, and Tommy had to bite back a giggle, swallowing down the laughter that bubbled in his chest for fear of waking Ranboo up. "Yeah, I love you too."
Dark thoughts settled and drifted, tucked away for the night, ready to emerge again tomorrow.
For now, Tommy let himself relax.