Sleepy Bois Inc. Angst Oneshots

Sickness in Exile Part 1

Trigger warning: sickness and mild cussing as well as the whole exile ordeal (manipulation and stuff like that)
~*~
Tommy felt off. He had been woken up by Dream an hour later than he usually woke up, and he had a pounding headache and a scratchy throat. He groaned as he realized he was getting sick.

Dream was angry that he had slept in. The punishment was, of course, burning his armor and most of his belongings. Tommy watched. He should've been angry. He should've fought back, but Tommy couldn't bring himself to care other than the thought, "That's going to be a bitch to replace." And so, he got to work like every other day.

He quickly replaced his wood supply and went to the strip mine a couple hundred blocks away from the tent. He saw a few cows on the way but opted not to kill them. The thought of eating made him want to throw up.

He made his way into the mine and quickly descended. The torch light dancing on the walls made him feel even more nauseous. He stumbled onwards, the dampness of the mine making him cough. And yet, onwards he went with the blind hope that Dream wouldn't burn his things tomorrow.

After a few hours of back-breaking mining, he had enough resources. He started to make his way to the exit of the mine. A coughing attack made the trip take longer than usual, and it didn't help that every few steps he had to sit down and rest his head against the cool stone.

"I can't be sick," Tommy muttered, praying that whatever it was, it would go away soon. He could practically hear Dream taunting him: "The Great Thomas Minecraft has caught a cold. Shall we break out the silk sheets, Your Majesty?" He finally made it to the exit of the mine, walking with a new resolve to hide his sickness from Dream. Undoubtedly, it'd just cause him harm.

He faced the stairs. He groaned again when he realized he'd have to walk up what seemed like hundreds of stairs and even farther to his tent.

He stood to begin his journey but couldn't make it more than a few steps before the fatigue took over. He leaned against the wall and tried to get a deep breath to steady himself, but his chest rattled. He leaned against the cool stone. "Maybe I can stay here for a minute..." He fell asleep.

Tommy was woken up by the cold. He was surrounded by it, and it seeped into his body down to his bones. He shivered and tried to stand. He needed to get back to his tent; it was a little warmer there. Tommy needed all the warmth he could get.

He fell back against the wall, not wanting or able to get up. "Come on. I can do this. I just have to make it up the stairs and walk a hundred feet to my tent." Even with his attempt at a pep talk, Tommy couldn't force himself up. It was hopeless. He was going to die out here.

Dream was confused. It was well past midnight, and Tommy wasn't in his tent. Dream usually stopped by to say goodnight before heading back through the Nether to spend the night at George's house. When he walked into the tent, however, Tommy wasn't in bed.

"Did he finally run away?" Dream asked himself. No, otherwise he would've taken more supplies. Tommy's sword, disks, and compass were still here. He wouldn't have left without those. Unless...

Dream began searching the area. He looked in the forest, near the beach, and checked the plains. It was cold outside, and the longer he didn't find Tommy, the more worried he got.

"You don't actually care," Nightmare whispered in his head. "You wanted Tommy to die. I took care of it."

"Nightmare, what do you mean? What did you do?" Images flashed through Dream's head. Nightmare taking over his body. Him burning Tommy's things while Tommy looked on in hopeless defeat. Him taking away Tommy's blankets and a good portion of Tommy's food. Worst of all, him hurting Tommy.

Dream felt sick. No wonder Tommy hated him so much. He needed to find Tommy and make it right. He needed... he needed to let Tommy out of exile.

Tommy was woken up by the sound of someone approaching him. He weakly lifted his head to see his visitor. Realizing it was Dream, he laid his head back against the wall.

"Come to gloat, Dream? Can't even let me die in peace," he managed to say. His voice was rough and scratchy, and talking made his coughing worse.

"No, Tommy... I'm here to help." The green man looked at him with concern. Did he really care? Tommy crushed his hopes before they took him over. The last time he trusted Dream, his disks were almost burnt.

"Help?" Tommy wheezed out. "Like you helped me before? You burnt my armor, manipulated me, and hurt me in ways I didn't know were possible. Now you want to help?" He stood on shaky legs. Dream took a few steps towards him to steady him. Tommy slapped his hands away. He wasn't going to accept help from this monster.

"Tommy, you have to understand-"

"Understand what? What am I missing that somehow explains how you treated me?" What excuse was Dream going to pull out of his hat this time?

"Nightmare. He-"

"You're really going to blame everything on someone else?" Dream would never change. Tommy felt a wave of tiredness wash over him. Dream stepped forward to catch him, and Tommy fell into his arms. He didn't care at this point. He was going to die. Whether in Dream's arms or by Dream's hand, he couldn't care less.

"Tommy? Toms? Big T?" Dream shrieked in his ear.

"You're being too loud," Tommy whined. His head was pounding. Each breath was harder than the last. He was so cold, too cold, and Tommy was tired. He was tired of pain, of sickness, and of living. He closed his eyes hoping to finally have peace.
~*~
(1010 words)