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“Actions speak louder than words; let your words teach and your actions speak.”
There was a saying of nurture vs. nature. How you are instinctively vs. how you were raised. Could you have been different if you were raised differently? Or were you always meant to be this way?
That was something Tommy thought about a lot. At least subconsciously.
Perhaps, if he was raised right, he wouldn’t have been so wild and hated. Perhaps if he had not been abused he would not be so angry. Perhaps if he was raised with security he would not have to fear abandonment.
And so Tommy knelt on the beach of Las Nevadas, Wilbur’s book in his hand, wondering how he got to this point. He was now left with nothing, his last connection abandoning him for Utah of all things. As he looked at the brown leathered book, his chest grew tight, his eyes swollen with tears. Not like anyone would be able to tell he was crying, considering how hard the rain was pouring. He couldn’t feel his legs under him. Whether that be from shock or numbness from sitting on them so long Tommy didn’t know. Or care.
Wilbur was gone.
He truly had no one now.
“Wow.”
It took Tommy a second to register that someone had spoken. It took another second to recognize the voice. Tommy’s survival instincts sprang forth as the boy shot his head up. Standing before him, a few blocks away, was Dream. He seemed to blend into his environment. A dark green cloak camouflaged him in the twilight rain. His mask was long gone, revealing the old and new scars that sketched his face.
The gods must truly hate him.
Oddly, though, he wasn’t looking at Tommy. He was looking out onto the ocean, where Wilbur vanished.
“He just… left.” Dream stated in disbelief.
Tommy swallowed, slowly standing up. Dream had made no move towards him.
“Is he coming back?” Dream asked, facing Tommy and pointing at the ocean.
Tommy looked at the ocean, then back at Dream. He mutely shook his head.
Dream frowned. Angry. But for once, not at Tommy.
“Really?” He huffed. “Is he out of his mind? Oh, because I burned the discs that means I’m not a threat to you anymore? Does he not realize I can just kill you?”
Tommy’s heart froze at that. It didn’t matter now if Wilbur knew. Tommy knew. Dream knew.
And now there was no one left to protect him.
“He is actually insane.” Dream mumbled more to himself than to Tommy.
“W-What… what are you doing here?” Tommy forced out.
“Believe it or not, it had nothing to do with you. I know this may shock you, but you’re not the highest target on my hit list.” Dream sighed, looking out to the ocean and shaking his head. “Truly idiotic.”
Tommy swallowed, taking a few steps back. Dream’s eyes glanced at him, but he didn’t move.
“And he’s from Utah?” Dream tisked. “How-- why does he sound British? That makes no sense!”
“I know!” Tommy snapped. “He was fucking American the whole time!”
“ I’m American.” Dream scolded.
“Yeah and you’re a bitch! You and Wilbur! You-- you both…” Tommy’s voice cracked. He felt a sob crawl up his throat. His breathing hitched as he started hyperventilating. His exhausted underweight form trembled under the freezing rain. He covered his face with his hands as if he could hide. His drenched hair flopped onto Tommy’s face and hands.
A weight drooped over him, blocking out the rain. It was heavy, but dry and warm. Tommy gasped as he looked up to see Dream in front of him, recurring his cloak over the younger’s head. Dream, until a few seconds ago, was relatively dry. Now Tommy could see his hair lose its shape as it began to soak.
“Maybe I don’t need to kill you. Maybe you’ll just die of pneumonia instead.” Dream huffed. His face was apathetic, however, there was… something in his eyes. Something Tommy hadn’t seen from Dream… ever. If Dream had ever looked at anyone like that, it was from behind his mask.
Every trembling nerve in Tommy told him to run. Dream was here, he was too close. He held the cloak that was wrapped around Tommy, trapping him in a makeshift net. He could feel Dream’s body heat from the cloak, as well as Dream himself.
“W-What’re you doing?” Tommy stammered.
Dream shrugged. “I dunno, I’m in a mood today. What I saw… gods Wilbur is an idiot. He basically left a drenched cat on the side of the road. Who fucking does that?”
Tommy blinked. Perhaps the pneumonia was getting to him. He must be hallucinating.
“You know, sometimes I wonder how you ended up so stupid, but then I see shit like that and go ‘Oh that’s how.’” Dream chuckled. “When you’re raised by dumb people, that’s what you become.”
As much as Tommy wanted to scream and shout that Wilbur wasn’t an idiot, he couldn’t argue with Dream’s logic. Not this time. Wilbur left him. Alone. To fend for himself. Fully aware that Dream was still prowling the Server.
So Tommy stayed silent, the cloak’s hood swallowing his face.
Then Dream did the truly unexpected. He grabbed Tommy by the arms and pulled him into a hug. Tommy gasped as he was pulled into a brick wall of a chest as arms trapped him in a web. He tried to twist his way out of his grasp, but Dream only tightened his grip until Tommy could barely breathe. After a few more seconds Tommy surrendered and forced himself to relax in Dream’s embrace.
“There you go.” Dream sighed. “Gods, you are cold .” He started rubbing one of his hands on Tommy’s back, trying to circulate heat.
“I’ve always been cold.” Tommy whimpered from Dream’s shoulder. Dream hummed as he tucked Tommy’s head under his chin.
If this was anyone else, Tommy would have killed for this comfort. To be in a soul-crushed hug, to be warm, to have someone fret over him.
For a while, the two stood there in the forced embrace. Dream hummed an unfamiliar tune as scared hands rubbed his back, still trying to get him warm. Tommy fought waves of exhaustion and comfort, but with each passing minute and with each hummed lullaby, it became harder to.
Would it be so bad, to just surrender? Even if Dream killed and revived him, if he could get little moments like these… it would be worth it.
“Damn shame.” Dream huffed, hot breath ticking Tommy’s hair. “Sometimes, I look in the mirror, and think ‘How the fuck did I get here?’ I guess… this is one of those moments.”
“I think we agree for once.” Tommy mumbled through the cloak. He was still wet, but he was actually starting to warm up thanks to the hug, and now he was just tired.
“I guess it is.” Dream snorted. “We’re both fucked up, and alone.”
Tommy swallowed. He felt his heavy eyelids droop shut and he started to lean into Dream.
“That proves my point then.” Dream chuckles. “That you’d seek comfort from someone like me.”
Tommy silently shrugged.
“Let’s get you out of the rain. I’m getting soaked.” Dream lightly tapped Tommy’s cheek to get him to wake up. Tommy snorted as he blinked. “W-What…?”
“I said let’s get out of the rain.” Dream said with less patience. He was already leading Tommy away from the shoreline.
“W-What--” Tommy jerked away from Dream. Dream’s hand shot out and grabbed Tommy’s arm, holding it in a vice grip.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” Dream said, the coldness that Tommy knew oh-so-well returning. A tight grin spread across his face. “I can kill you and revive you when we get there, or you can come while still alive.”
“W-Where’re we going?” Tommy whimpered.
Dream shrugged. “Somewhere safe. Just a base of mine. Get you cleaned up and some food in you.”
“Since when have you ever cared ?” Tommy sneered.
Dream bit his cheek, looking away in contemplation. “I don’t care, honestly, but-- you don’t leave a wet cat to die in the rain.”
Tommy was stunned into silence. He didn’t fight as Dream led him away. Dream was quiet, only speaking when instructing Tommy where to go. Eventually, they made it to one of Dream’s safehouses. There, Dream made him soup, and let him sleep in the spare bed. Perhaps when they woke up, they would be enemies again. Or maybe they wouldn’t.
Only time will tell.