Tales of the sleepy boys

Too soon. (Short)

Tommy blinked. It was bright. Too bright to be the obsidian walls of the prison. He felt his heart rate increase as his brain rushed to the realization. He wasn't in the cell any more. The boy moved his arm to cover his eyes. he had found himself in a lying position, back flat against the floor and head looking directly upwards. He felt stiff and sore, as if he had just finished an intense workout. His muscles aches in various places, other parts of his body felt the same. Tommy slid his arm from his face, unveiling the bright world he now found himself in. Everything was a bright white, nothing specifically discernible could be made out in the fog that engulfed his surroundings. He scrunched his brow slightly in concern. The boy might not have known where he was, but what he did know was that he was free. Tommy slid his slight frame in to a sitting position, pushing his torso up with his arms. The ease of the movement made the boy's gut squirm with uneasiness. Something was wrong, the boy could tell. But either through the sheer bliss of being free from that... man, or the content haze that now clouded his mind, the boy didn't focus on his concerns. The boy slid his legs beneath his torso, pushing up simultaneously with his arms to allow him to stand. He rolled on the balls of his feet, feeling unusually light and springy. He gave himself a little smirk as he hopped on the spot, trivializing his newfound weightlessness. Tommy looked around himself one again, this time, deep in the misty haze that surrounded him, he spotted a figure. A tall man, brunette clad in a trench coat stared at the boy. The warm familiarity of the frame put Tommy at ease as the boy studied the man's face. The expression of what could only be described as gaping shock etched itself across the man's features. Neither happy nor sad. Tommy smirked before blurting out the name he had come to know the man by.

"Wilbur!" He said joyously, lips pulled to a wide grin with tears threatening the corners of his eyes. Wilbur was here, his big brother was standing in front of him. But that must mean...

No. It couldn't be.

Tommy's face dropped. His eyes took on a glazed over sheen as the realization visibly took hold of the boy. He felt his knees weaken despite the lightness of the rest of his body. Warm arms wrapped themselves around the boy. A warm body gripped the boy tight, not letting go. Tommy buried his head in the soft fabric that pressed itself against him. Calloused hands found their way through the boy's hair, gently playing with his golden locks.

"When we agreed to see each other soon, I didn't expect it to be this fast." A deep voice cooed out calmingly. Tommy pulled himself closer to his brother, clutching at the fabric that covered his brothers chest. He couldn't be dead. No, dream couldn't have killed him in that cursed cell. The was no way. Dream himself even said he needed Tommy alive. But... Here he was, nestled in the arms of his older brother. A stark contrast to the lonely obsidian he had been left to die on, to say the least.

He pulled his head out from his brothers chest, looking the older in the eyes. Tears freely flowed down both sets of cheeks.

"I've missed you big man," Wilbur muttered, pulling Tommy close once more, just making sure he was still there. "But I wish you weren't here."

Wilbur ran his fingers through the blonde's hair in a soothing rhythmic pattern, calming the blonde's unsteady breathing.

"Too soon."