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His knuckles were charred over, burnt, and scratched raw as he pound viciously at the obsidian tile under foot. The world was cruel- too cold and demanding -to do something so violent in such little time. To rip his chance at freedom, true, refreshing freedom, from his hands and grace him ever-so-gently with the merciful hand of life once more. He breathed it through his lungs and felt it settle in the casm of his chest, thundering through his veins and ricocheting from his screams. It was amazing in it’s own way but all the more hideous in others. To take the sweet release of death and plunge someone’s soul into the decaying corpse of their two-day-old body.
The aftermath of those 48 hours (it had only been forty eight hours? He was still wrapping his mind around that) was still lingering in his mind and body; the slow pulsing of his heart, the ache in his organs as the once-stilled blood now pumped freely through. It was a feat of heroism and of divinity, but it felt tainted under the cold hand of his abuser. The hand that brought the boy death, only to breath it back? It was cruel, but seemed deserved after all things were considered.
The sounds of his screams (those were coming from his mouth?) were pounding against his ears as the sinister heat of lava encased the room. It wasn’t growing but rather persistent and igniteful, creating the unwanted presence of sweat and dehydration back into his creaking bones. It was familiar is the worst way, almost as much as death was now a friend, as he yearned for times much simpler than this. When exile meant only loneliness and solitude was only for one; not three, not two, but one . When Dream could be mistaken for a friend and not a bringer of life and death.
In his fervor, he hardly noticed the slow recede of heat, the anchor of hands on his arms, of hands pressed against his face and a more comforting warmth over his skin. He cried harder, bloodied hands coming to wrap over the rough fabric of armor in-betweens. It felt right- it felt whole to touch something other than the searing touch of Dream and the intense flames of heated obsidian. “Tommy,” the sounds made him keen in the back of his throat and bury his head further into the material. “Oh god, Tommy.”
It was a blur, a glazed over mess of contraptions and sounds, of yelling and scraping, before his feet finally hit grass. He wasn’t certain when his feet had become absent from their coverings but he was never more grateful to feel the dew of morning under his skin than then. To bury his fingers into the damp ground and to let lose a sob carried painfully in his chest. The hand against his back wasn’t as comforting as it had been, instead enlisting a flinch and recoil as he fell to his back. “Dont-” he rasped. “Dont touch me, please.”
His glaze over his eyes was peeled away and he looked into the guilt-stricken pupils of the Warden; of the man who had instilled his fate in the prison and locked the key to his return. “Not you,” Tommy cried, pressing his raw and throbbing palms to his eyes. “Not you Sam. You- You were supposed to help me!” He cried, tears spilling from the cracks between his fingers and burning the open wounds.
“I’m so-”
“Save it. Take me- Take me to Tubbo. To Ranboo, please. Someone else.”
He watched as the tension in the hybrid’s shoulders stiffened and fell, a repressed shiver of fear crawling up his spine. Sam fazed at the boy through scrunched brows, the sad expression only worsening, but relented. He pulled the communicator from his hip and sent a brief message. Tommy sighed as the prison guard stepped a few feet back and fell into a crouched position a bit away. There was tension so thick that a knife would surely pass through, but neither chose to break it.
Footsteps were heard cresting over the hill and a violent gasp. Tommy flinched at the sound, jumpy, but relaxed at seeing the faces of the closest members he could consider friends (Sam didn’t count, not anymore). Tubbo remained grounded to the spot while Ranboo rushed forward, comically tripping over his own feet. The skeptical would be one to laugh at under separate circumstances.
Feather-light touches grazed over his hands, a hesitance to believe present in the action. Tommy was thankful for the warning before his hands were pulled carefully into Ranboo’s own, claws delicately ghosting over irritated calluses. “You’re alive.” The ender-hybrid breathed, breath caught in his lungs as he gasped.
“I am, big guy.” Tommy spoke without his usual gusteau, nervousness and an unusual hesitance to his tone. “Believe me when I say that dying isn’t on my to-do list anymore.”
Questions lingered on the back of the dualled-boy’s tongue but he swallowed them down for a more appropriate time. His eyes flickered to his platonic-husband, who remained catatonic in his place. Ranboo’s brows furrowed in worry but he soothed himself over with a quiet sigh and gently pulled Tommy’s hands upward with him. A small smile pulled at his lips as the bruised boy stood with him on shaking legs. “Let’s take you home.”
The journey home was nearly as much of a blur as the last, this time someone was cradling his hand in his own and the touch didn’t seem as burning. Tommy welcomed it as his eyes, faded and dulled gray once more, landed on the grand structure of his hotel. It was bustling with life as Sam Nook patrolled the entry-way, Jack manned the counter, and a few levels were occupied. What once would have had brought warmth to his heart left him panicked and shaky. “It’s okay,” Ranboo spoke quietly. “We’re not going there.”
Tommy relaxed as the building became a pin-prick on the horizon and the sound of activity fell silent. The hand in his own never left, but was rather accompanied by another now gently capturing his rough and raw fingers. The contact was overwhelming before comforting. The sudden touch unwanted on his newly-reactivated nerves. His eyes flickered over to the familiar face of his once-best-friend, who’s eyes were glazed over with tears and nose bunched up. “Dont do that to me again. Ever.” Tubbo spoke harshly but quietly, ears pinned to his head and forehead crinkled with the effort of appearing mad.
Tommy forced a small smile onto his face, tears of his own balling up as a lump in his throat. He fought off the bundle of anxiety in his chest. “I’ll keep that in mind next time I nearly die.” He tried to joke, but only falling flat.
His lower lip trembled as another sob shook his chest, hand pried from clawed fingers to rub at his burning eyes. “I'm sorry.” He choked out. “I- I didn’t-”
Hands pulled him gently forward and into a careful embrace, lose enough to give the boy plenty of time to pull back and leave. Tommy hiccuped before smothering himself between the smaller boy’s head and shoulder, crying into the place he nested his head. “Dont be sorry. I knew you wouldn’t die like that, but you really gave me a scare.”
“But I did-” Another hand carded gently through his hair, hooved and grounding.
“Shh, we’ll talk more when we get home.”
The cold was oddly welcoming against Tommy’s heated skin as they meandered their way through the chilled tundra of Snowchester. It was familiar and brought a dull ache of longing to his chest. He shook off the feeling of melancholy and focused on adjusting the furred hood over his head. Tubbo had shed one of his many layers and gave it to the intensely under-dressed, frankly emancipated blond, who had slipped it over his shoulders thankfully and took the sturdy hand of the goat into his trembling own. To feel the comfortingly calloused flesh against his own hand was unsettlingly grounding and brought him a sort of relief he never expected to feel.
He was taken from his stupor by the knock on a wooden door and realized with a sense of shock that they had already arrived at the porch of Tubbo’s home. The door was slowly opened and the soft, eerily familiar sound of hooves on wood (last he heard that was- no. not now) could be heard as it was dragged open. A small head poked out from the opening before a loud squeal broke the silence. The sound had Tommy scrambling backwards in shock as the unusual sound breached his ears. Ranboo hunched over and pressed a hand over Tommy’s thick coat. “It’s okay!” He was quick to ease. “It’s alright, it’s just Michael. We should’ve warned you about him. I’m sorry.”
The hybrid’s ears drooped slightly before picking back upwards as, who Tommy could only assume was Michael, (a baby zombie pigman?) ducked under Tubbo’s legs and crashed against Ranboo’s. The child made grabbing hands (hooves?) up at the lanky hybrid before being scooped into his arms. Ranboo smiled down at the tiny thing as it made little grunts and squeals. Tommy stood somewhat awkwardly to the side before Tubbo motioned him in with a small smile.
The blast of warm air was somewhat daunting in comparison to the chill of the snow. It was intense and left Tommy somewhat shaken, feeling as if he was back in front of the lava with his abuser just a few feet from him, hands bleeding and voice broke. No. He wasn’t there anymore. Sam let him out and he was with Ranboo and Tubbo now, he wasn’t stuck in the cell or stuck in the void. It was fine now, everything was okay.
Tommy ground his feet, covered in a pair of iron boots, against the soles of his shoes and took in a shaking breath. It rattled in his lungs and settled in his stomach as a pool of nerves. The numbing trek here had given him time to shut off but now he had to deal with more stimuli than he was accustomed to. Breathing with lungs that had been rotten, feeling with fingertips once cold and pale, and looking with eyes once dead to the world. He could still feel the sticky trail of blood and the ache of bruises on his skin. If anything, he was desensitized to it.
“Come on, let's get you bandaged up and I can fill you in on everything.” Tubbo wrapped his hand loosely over Tommy’s wrist.
The blond shook it off, heart racing in his ears and eyes looking off into some not-so-distant time. The last person to touch his wrist was Dream, when the bastard dug his nails into his flesh before- No. Not there again.
There was too much to remind him of the last few months, too much input to trigger something deep into the recesses of his trauma. But the look on Tubbo’s face was enough to keep him in the present. Tommy’s own fingers grazed just barely over the irritated, inflamed skin of his wrist before flinching back at the contact. “I'm sorry.” He whispered.
And there was that dumb, pitying smile on the brunette’s face again. The one from times past and present, that always managed to ease his conscience. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for not asking first. Let's just get you cleaned up and into some proper clothes.”
Tommy nodded with a forced smile as he followed Tubbo up the near staircase and onto the second floor. The older dragged him into the restroom on the far side, the loud squealing of the child muffled behind the closed door. Tommy sat on the lid of the toilet as Tubbo rummaged through the cabinets, pulling out an old rag and a swish of healing potion. Tubbo ran the rag under the sink and applied some soap to it. He turned to Tommy and asked, “Can I?”
Tommy nodded and tensed as the rag dragged over the sensitive skin above his eye, where a deep gash was. He could faintly remember the sickening crack of his skull as hands pressed against his throat. “Do you want me to tell you about what’s been going on?”
Tubbo’s voice made him flinch slightly, but he nodded. “Sure, big man.”
Tubbo laughed quietly at the familiar nickname, gently patting away the blood. “Well… where to start?” He seemed to lose track of motion as he thought, only continuing after a little gasp. “Me and Ranboo got platonically married and adopted a son!”
Tommy couldn’t hold back the shocked laughter bubbling almost painfully from his chest. The sound was loud and seemed somewhat forced, but it was still a laugh regardless. “What? What does that even mean ?” Tommy wiped the tears building at the corners of his eyes.
“The little zombie pigman is our son Michael! We decided that, since we’re co-parenting, to just marry platonically and take care of our son together. So we started a little bed and breakfast across from your hotel, just some friendly competition, and now we’re just taking some time to care for Michael.”
“So, while I was suffering in the jail, you decided to go get married and adopt a child?” He tried his best to act cold but the faint twitch of his lips gave him away. “You’re on fuckin’ crack or something, Tubbo.”
Tubbo laughed, skin crinkled on the sides of his eyes from the excessive giggling. “Okay, okay! I get it! Gone for a week and you come back to this mess, huh?”
“I was really gone for months, to me, so seeing you guys again is kind of fucking bonkers. I mean, I celebrated my birthday in that void, y’know?”
“That void?” Tubbo echoed. “What’s that mean?”
“It’s the place you go to after you- after you…”
Tommy had realized just how badly his fingers were shaking and tried to force a shiver to release what he assumed was pent up energy. It failed and left him feeling worse, his shoulders subconsciously curling into his body and hunching him over. Without conscious thought, his eyes snapped shut while his breathing stuttered in his chest. Tommy flinched at the sudden contact of skin over his fingers.
“Tommy? Tommy, hey, it’s okay! You don't have to talk about it, okay? Let me finish bandaging you up and then we can go downstairs.”
“Oh… Okay.” Tommy pathetically stuttered, skin prickled with goosebumps.
Tubbo gently placed a glob of ointment onto the cut above his head and followed it with gauze. “That might need stitches.” Tubbo muttered under his breath as he moved towards the other cuts.
He proceeded to clean Tommy’s knuckles and blisters while placing bandaids and cream as needed. The whole process wiped the two teens out and left Tommy nodding off between sessions of stinging. Tubbo helped the younger to his feet and down the short staircase to the living room. Ranboo and Michael were sitting on the couch, the toddler playing absentmindedly with the hybrid’s fingers. Tommy threw himself onto the cushion, his arm over his head as he leaned backwards.
The exhaustion of the day was finally pulling him down, along with the pure adrenaline of being revived into a decaying corpse. There were voices whispering around him but as he dozed off, their mumbles were nothing but white noise.
.
.
.
Waking the morning after had felt like waking from a nightmare, eyes bleary and tears still dry on his cheeks. Something was pressed against his side and he half believed it was blood. Tommy rubbed the crust from his eyes and looked down at the lump next to him and was suddenly a lot more awake than before. A small, hooved hand was playing with his ragged shirt. Michael was clung to his side, snoring away. He was oddly warm to the touch and seemed to expel the heat, similarly to most Nether-based creatures.
“Awwwww!” Tubbo whispered, a soft creak of the floorboards as he walked into the room.
Tommy scowled up at the brunette as the shorter crouched next to him, gently carding his fingers through the small tuft of fur on Michael’s head. “He likes youuuu.” He teased.
“Get this lil demon off o’ me.”
Tubbo playfully gasped, hand over his chest. “How dare you call my child a demon! I am offended.”
They were still whispering but the lil hell-spawn still grumbled at the noise. Tubbo smoothed the crease of his fleshed eyebrow and smiled softly. “Alright, let’s get him off of you.”
The goat reached down and scooped the toddler under the arms, pulling slightly to pick him up. Michael’s little hoof twisted further into the fabric and he squealed quietly. No real intelligible words, but still a sign of distress. “Okay, okay! Sorry!” Tubbo placed him back against Tommy’s chest. “Sorry Tommy, seems you’re stuck as a pillow until Ranboo can feed Michael.”
“You’re his dad too! Why dont you feel him!”
“Because Ranboo has the magic touch or something! Michael only answers to him when it comes to discipline. I think I’m too soft.”
Tommy looked down at the small mound pressed against his chest and felt a surge of affection for the little shrimp. He sighed but relented, placing a hand awkwardly on the kid’s head. “Fine, but you owe me.”
As it turned out, Ranboo wouldn’t wake up for at least another hour and a half. Tommy had nearly fallen asleep again, and he would’ve if Tubbo didn’t sit next to him talking his ear off.
Ranboo waltzed very clumsily into the room, momentarily knocking his horns on the ceiling before hunching over. He rubbed the top of his head and gave Tommy a nervous smile. “Sorry for sleeping in so late! I’ll take Michael now, if you’d like?”
“Pleaseee.” Tommy groaned, apologizing as the young zombie piglin groaned.
Ranboo smiled as he pulled the toddler into his own arms and walked off into the kitchen. Tommy hissed out a pained breath as he sat up, really feeling every bruise and bump as well as pop of every joint. Everything was absolutely screaming in denial of the movement.
“You okay?”
Tommy glared but rolled his eyes before sighing. “Waking up to a beaten, partially decomposed body isn’t something I’d fucking recommend.”
Tubbo winced but smiled shakily. “Sorry, yeah, didn’t think of that.”
Tommy waves him off and gets to his feet. “It’s fine.”
The goat gives him an uncertain look but relents, walking through the house and into the kitchen. He begins to make breakfast while Ranboo feeds little Michael some ground up carrots and bush berries. Tommy saunters into the room with a slight limp and an uncomfortable heat throbbing from his hand. He sits down at their little table and sighs. He decides to keep those two ailments under secrecy until he can get to his home and deal with it.
Tubbo placed a plate of berry-butter smeared toast on the table, along with a secondary plate of scrambled eggs. Ranboo sat on one of the four seats and collected the food onto his own plate. Tommy hesitated, fingers twitching slightly over the table’s surface as his stomach quietly growled. When was the last time he ate a real meal?
“Go ahead and grab what you want Tommy, you know I can always make more.” Tubbo called over his shoulder from the kitchenette, almost unseeingly knowing the turmoil.
Tommy still looked to Ranboo for confirmation, the older giving him a sad look before nodding. “You don’t have to ask to eat.” He waved towards the heaping pile of food.
The blond grabbed as much as he felt he could eat (which isn’t much after living off of nothing but short meals and a potato three times a day) and somewhat shovelled it into his mouth. Tommy quietly groaned at the bursts of flavor, so foreign from the bland of potato and dryness of quickly-heated steak. Ranboo laughed softly as he ate his own food, Tubbo sitting across the table with his own plate. “Since when did you learn how to cook?” Tommy side-eyed the brunette, somewhat surprised.
“Back when I was President, it was either I make my own food or eat bread every day. It wasn’t until I finished Snowchester that I really had the ability to work on cooking.”
“And you didn’t think to give me anything?!” Tommy huffed, turning away in mock-aggression. “Couldn’t spare Tommyinnit some well-deserved food?”
Tubbo laughed between bites. “When was I supposed to make you anything?”
Tommy waved his hand as he chewed, rolling his eyes. “I dont know man,” he swallowed. “Maybe before we went to beat up Dream? “Hello Tommy! I’ve brought you a meal!” , y’know?” He mocked.
The brunette huffed and sighed, a playful smile pulling at his lips. Their antics were nothing but that; little jabs between friends that held nothing less than playful banter. It was something so often heard when near the two that everyone dismissed it. Ranboo even.
“Alright, big man, I’ll keep it in mind for the next perilous adventure.”
“Oh fuck you-”
.
.
.
Tommy had managed to escape the little cabin home and was on his way to his own, but only under the agreement that Ranboo would accompany him on the walk back. Hiding the slight limp and constant ache was a nuisance now that he had unwanted attention. The ache was growing worse and keeping the flinches of pain hidden was becoming more painful than what it’s worth.
Ranboo had been quiet nearly the entire walk other than some half-baked comments on the area around them and the somewhat panicked reaction to the ever-expanding red vines. Tommy did nothing but shrug and grunt, already feeling drained from everything.
Thankfully, they were able to completely negate the prison and the area surrounding it. He wasn’t well enough in the head to deal with that right now, not entirely sure if ever is an option. The emotions and situations tied with the building itself would most likely send Tommy into a melt down. He was man enough to realize and accept that.
“Want to stop at the hotel and talk to Sam Nook and Jack before going home?”
Tommy bit back the urge to whine and sigh and instead conceded. “Sure, let’s go let them know that Big Man Tommyinnit is actually living.”
Ranboo flinched at the notations but forced a shaky smile, nodding slowly as they approached the grand building. It wasn’t nearly as bustling with sound as it was yesterday, instead small shuffling noises and light chatter taking it’s place. The two walked into the main lobby and shuffled awkwardly up to the desk. Jack was sitting behind it, feet propped up on the desk and if Tommy was anything like before, he may have found it in himself to be upset.
Jack was smiling as he stared down at his communicator, fingers typing away at the little screen. Ranboo brought a gloved fist to his face and coughed. Jack jolted off of his chair with a shriek, falling to the floor with a thud. He was quick to right himself and straighten up his tie. “Sorry about that, uhhh- how can I-” He cut himself off and his eyes widened over the frames. “Tommy?”
“Ayyeeee Jacckkk! Big Man Jack! How’s it going?”
Ranboo could feel the tension in the air as anxiety pooled in his stomach. You’d have to be blind to not realize that Jack was hiding some form of agitation and aggression towards the blond teen, and Tommy may be blind. Out of instinct, he curled his tail loosely around the youngest’s leg and scowled down at Jack.
“Tommy- Tommy, you’re dead? You’re supposed to be dead! We got the message and everything!” The man’s eyes flicked between the two teenagers, slightly hunching over at the absolute menace in the hybrid’s eyes.
“Ah, about that-” Tommy began to tease the fabric of his shirt between his fingers, refusing to look the man in the eyes. “Dream didn’t lie about the revival book. Good news, right?
“Holy shit- Tommy, what the fuck?”
Jack pushed past the swinging door and made to place both hands on Tommy’s shoulders, but fell short as the boy ducked away. “Dont-” He bumped into Ranboo and hissed at the contact.
It was hot, too hot, and flared his sensitive nerves. It so reminded him so painfully of heated obsidian and molten lava. Of slow deaths and fingers around his throat, the feeling of burns igniting on his skin as explosions ring in his ears.
“Hey, hey, Tommy? Tommy, it’s okay. Can I touch you?”
“No- no, no.” The blond wheezed through the knot in his chest. “Please dont.”
“Okay, okay. Do you want to go home or stay here for a bit?”
Ranboo was giving him options, giving him a reason to think about something else. It would’ve been appreciated in any other situation but comprehensively thinking wasn’t one of his top skills currently.
The enderman hybrid rounded on Jack, tail-tip flared and jaw slack in a very frighteningly similar way to his creature-component. “Pretend to be his friend all you want, but lay a hand on him and you’re dead, Jack.”
The human felt a shiver climb up his spine and settle in his gut in the form of fear, eyes blown wide and fingers twitching. He had no weapons on him if Ranboo chose to attack and that seemed like a very likely possibility at that moment. Enderman is an aggressive-based creature, Ranboo would obviously be able to reprocrate that and surely take the human quickly. Those sharp claws and gnawing teeth? No chance.
To his surprise, Ranboo simply hissed and chirped in a very feral manner before turning towards his friend on the floor. He didn’t make any more to touch Tommy, rather spoke softly and calmly. It seemed to bring the boy out of his fear-induced stupor. “Home.”
“Okay, let’s get you home.” Ranboo softly agreed, holding his hand out as on offer.
Tommy stared at the clawed appendage with some form of lingering exhaustion before taking it. Ranboo carefully hauled the younger to his feet and helped him out of the building, tail curled, hovering, protectively around Tommy. He sent one last glare towards Jack before making their way across Prime Path.
They entered the dirt shack slowly, Tommy relenting to his injuries and freely limping to the bed. He collapsed onto the mildly-dusty cushion and breathed a sigh of relief as his ankle throbbed. “Thanks Ranboo.”
“You’re welcome. Now where’s your medical stuff so I can help you with your ankle?”
“It’s fine, I got it.” Tommy huffed slightly as he bent towards his obviously swollen and red skin. “Just hand me the bandages from the second chest from the bottom and then some ice from outside.”
His wrist spasmed but he grit his teeth against it and made way to pulling his boot from his foot. Ranboo placed a hand over the clothing and playfully smacked Tommy’s hand from it. The blond didn’t react in any negative sort of way other than a gasp. He huffed and let Ranboo do his thing.
The enderman was careful when pulling the boot off and even more so when slipping the sock off after. The ankle was inflamed and absolutely irritated from the constant pressure. Ranboo sighed as he inspected it, clinging slightly as Tommy hissed in pain. “Don't move, okay?”
“Yeah, okay. Don't think I can, dickhead.”
Ranboo chuckled lightly as he pried the chest open and sifted through the contents for the medical supplies, finding it quite easily on the top of the chest. He pulled out a smaller roll and a half-full bottle of healing potion. Ranboo sat on the floor in front of Tommy’s bed and placed a bowl in his lap. He doused the bandages in the healing liquid and rang them out before gently grabbing Tommy’s ankle, wrapping the bandages very carefully over the throbbing skin. He hissed at the pressure but bit his tongue to shorten it.
The job was quickly finished and Ranboo set off to find some ice to chip down and use as an inflammatory solution. The enderman ends up giving him some bandages to help with his wrist as well. “I can stay with you if you’d like? I’ll message Tubbo to let him know.”
Tommy was quick to reject this. “No, it’s alright big man. I’ll just relax the rest of the day- take a nap or something.”
Ranboo gives him a side eye but relents with a smile. “Alright. As long as you stay off of your foot, alright? Me and Tubbo will come by in the morning to check in on you.”
“Whatever you want, Ranboob.”
The door closed softly and left Tommy alone in a dimly lit room. Dust clouded the area and seemed to litter nearly every surface in the home (unsurprisingly, it is made of dirt after all). He sighs and gets to his feet to begin cleaning, using some cloth to wipe down the tops of chests. Tommy decides that ripping the sheets off his bed is enough and falls down onto the bare mattress, already exhausted even if it’s only been seven hours since he woke up.
-
The days after seemed much more full than they had ever been before; having something to distract himself from lingering trauma and the ever-looming fortress of the prison. Tubbo and Ranboo would invite him in the mornings for breakfast in Snowchester, he’d spend a few hours baby-sitting little Michael, and all-around just enjoying the snowy weather (even if memories of betrayal and golden apples pop into his head).
Breakdowns (Puffy tells him they’re called “panic attacks” but he doesn't like the idea that he’s mentally ill) come and go and slowly ease up as life passes. Thera-Puffy helps him learn to forgive and understand Sam, why he couldn’t safely release Tommy without risking Dream- his abuser, Puffy says to refer to him as -escaping as well.
Things were starting to get better, even if the red vines were slowly increasing and the portion of the egg he stole is getting bigger. Those could easily be ignored so long as wars aren’t started and conflicts don’t arise.
Life is alright now. Not amazing, not good, but alright.
And that’s enough.