Sleepybois Oneshots (PLATONIC)

Forever Unfinished

Animatic above is pretty triggering for some but if you are up to it I suggest you watch it! It basically inspired this one.

Background: Minecraft DreamSMP AU

Triggers: Hah d e a t h 

----------

A piercing scream erupted from his lips, and Tommy fell to the ground holding his head in agony.

This is not how that was meant to go.

I wanted to be saved!

WHY CAN'T I BE FIXED!!!

Tears poured from the blonde's eyes as he let out a mixture of sobs and screams, and yet his voice did not become raw from overuse.

He was in the afterlife.

He did not run out of breath, he didn't get a headache from screaming for too long, he didn't even feel the overgrown fingernails digging into the palms of his hands.

Tommy didn't know how long he'd sat there crying, but he didn't think there was any way to tell. He remembered everything, and he knew that he'd died.

Died at Dream's ruthless hands, not once, but three times.

Three lives... gone.

He looked up from his uncomfortable position with blurring eyes. He didn't know why they were blurry, but they cleared once he'd rubbed his eyes. His hands came away wet.

Odd.

He was sitting in a place that resembled the nether. There were blood-red grass and large pools of lava, but there was something entirely different.

The area was open, there was a sun-like light source in the sky and there was a low, grey mist covering the surface of bright red rock. there were no lava falls, no spooky structures, but there was a big pool of lava right in the centre of Tommy's attention.

It glowed brighter the more focus he gave it, and suddenly the salty water on his hands didn't matter anymore.

It was only his memories and lava.

The landscape around him went unnoticed as it changed as if to highlight the lava he was so intently staring at. It was like he was back in exile, wishing death upon himself.

He was in such a good mood before visiting Dream.

-----------

"Sam?" He called out into the deafeningly silent lava.

"SAM? PHIL?" A small chuckle sounded from behind him.

"Dad...?"

"Nobody cares for you, Tommy! It's always just been you and me!"

Him, Dream and the lava.

Him, Dream, death and the lava.

----------

The blood grass around the lava caught fire, and Tommy sat down next to the flames, absentmindedly picking up a stick and setting it on fire to observe.

----------

"10 PACES, FIRE!"

His first shot missed, and he was distracted by the worried looks on his brother's face. 

He was too afraid of death for this, he shouldn't be here.

And yet he was.

He dodged a flaming arrow and felt the heat of it scorch his uniform sleeve, and his fear was replaced with utter terror. He shouldn't die like this!

He swam under the prime path and was met with a burning, piercing sensation in his chest before he felt nothing.

----------

Burn.

That was what he did best, right?

----------

"Down with the revolution boys."

"It was never meant to be."

Two sentences hung in the air as Tommy felt his neck, bruised and scarred, from where Dream had taken his first canon life.

A Fire Aspect II sword. Dream's sword.

----------

If burning is what he meant to do, why couldn't he do it now?

The lava pool brought nothing but a slight warmth.

It did nothing for Tommy.

"Tommy? You aren't meant to be here."

"Wilbur?" Tommy turned to see his brother, standing in a small circle of green grass and orange-red flowers.

The dark mist didn't surround him. Tommy wondered why.

"What happened?" Wilbur asked softly, not bothered by the eerie feeling that their setting had.

"I crashed and burned, Will!" Tommy said, in a strangely happy tone.

Burning wasn't that bad.

"Tommy, please snap out of it!"

The blonde didn't know when he'd gotten to be in a hug with his older brother, but tears were streaming down Will's face and Tommy found the same happening to him.

This never happened.

"I missed you, Will."

Tommy looked up from Wilbur's chest to see a blue sky, trees waving at him in the gentle breeze and a peaceful river.

"The afterlife is what you make of it, Tommy," Will said, noting his confusion.

It was a nice moment until Tommy took note of the scars on Wilbur, and most notably, the large hole in his yellow sweater. The one he wore underneath his coat during the Pogtopia Era.

"You are the same way, Tommy," Wilbur said sadly, years of rebuilding their brotherly bond let Wilbur know of what the younger was thinking, and it infuriated Tommy sometimes.

Will walked Tommy over to the stream of water, and Tommy saw the picture the water painted for him.

"That is not a reflection."

Wilbur looked into the distance sadly.

Blood covered Tommy's clothes, face and matted his hair. His eyes looked like they had been during exile, and you could see every single burn and scar on him. Even clothed, the scars burned with a ferocity that made it so you could see them through the fabric.

There were bruises, probably representative of his third death.

A burning arrow scar, for his second.

And blood and burns, for his first.

Maybe if he'd died in lava, there would be nothing left of his body to go to the afterlife. Tommy inwardly thought that it would have been better that way.

This way, especially with Wilbur here, he couldn't escape his memories. He couldn't escape the screams and madness that rambled on in his mind. He couldn't escape the red landscape that followed him wherever he went in the afterlife.

He couldn't escape the pain that life brought him, even though he wasn't living.

It was a pain that nobody had ever gone through.

And, it would just go on.

An unfinished symphony of screams and agony.

Unfinished, forever.

----------