Healing takes time, not repression

please

TW: mentions of war, mentions of manipulation & yelling, dissociation 

(let me know if there are more please)

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"We should get some rest. I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow and I'd rather not be sleep deprived for it." The brunette stood, stretching a bit. He watched as the other nodded in agreement.

As they both climbed into bed, they couldn't help but worry for what tomorrow would bring. 

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Tommy woke up, the remaining anxiety drifting away from the previous night at the sight of the familiar walls. He shifted his body a bit so more of the blanket was covering him. Rubbing his eyes, he picked up the scent of eggs and toast and squinted his eyes. Eggs and toast? He sat up, looking around at his environment. 

He spotted Phil at the kitchen, assumingly the one who was producing the scents. Tommy bit his lips, trying to stay calm, yet let his brain process what happened yesterday. How did they even manage to find him? Was he just that unlucky? Briefly he wondered what had changed on the lands of the old L'manburg and SMP. It had been three years, surely some things have to have changed. He stretched and stood, immediately moving his swords from his inventory to his scabbard. He may need it and in a hurry at that. He started towards the kitchen hesitantly. Philza seemed to notice the boy, but decidedly said nothing for the time being, instead allowing for Tommy to start the conversation if he wanted to have one. 

Tommy sat at the table. It wasn't very big as it was made for only one person. However, it was large enough for Tommy to have a vase filled with alliums. They reminded him of Ranboo. Ranboo gave him no immediate bad memories. He wonders how Ranboo is doing.

His fingers were taping in anticipation. Why didn't they just leave after the storm was over? Didn't they want nothing to do with him? He had betrayed them, they should have left by now, leave him on his own again; and at most, they should have killed him while he was sleeping. A sleeping man is an easy target. He knew from experience. 

Was it sad that he knew how true that statement was from experience when he was sixteen? 
It's probably fine.

Phil finally looked back at him, face melding into a soft, genuine smile. Tommy quickly smiled back, but immediately went back to his stoic look. He couldn't trust them. He couldn't trust anyone now. He doesn't know what they think of him. HE didn't know what to think of them.

His head perked up when he heard bickering coming from outside. Who was arguing? Tommy turned to Phil who was currently focused on food. Nodding to himself, he stood, throwing his coat on before heading out his front door towards his garden. Clementine noticed his movement and decided to follow behind him, the girl being extremely protective of him.

Tommy followed his spread out stone path to his farm, watching as two figures flailing around everywhere, presumably over the broken fence. It didn't piss Tommy off. Really, it didn't. The fence would be easy to fix. However, why were they on his farm. He had gotten away from everyone to stop the griefing and war, he didn't want it to start back up again just because two anarchists came. Then again, that statement in itself is counterintuitive. 

The blond paused half way though, just now processing that there was a fourth person here. He bit his lip nervously, a habit he picked up seemingly out of nowhere. He cautiously kept walking towards the two, hand latched onto the grip of his sword. 

As he grew nearer, the figures seemed to notice him. One, Tommy recognized, as Technoblade. His attire not too different from last night with the exception of his hair being wrapped up into a messy, offish, bun, with his bangs framing his face. He seemingly put on his small rimmed glasses. Tommy hadn't seen his brother wear glasses since he was still a kid.