Inception {Dreamnotfound}

0 | Prologue | 0

This scene takes place just before the final chapters of Deception (36 + 37), which is why I have labelled it the prologue, and chapter 0.

Also because chapter 1 resumed the cliffhanger, dw that's getting answered next-

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-Tommy's POV-

These people don't make any sense.

They're all faceless. Always have been, as if I don't deserve to know any more. About them, or about this place they seem to like taking me.

It feels empty. I don't know what I thought the new world would look like, but it certainly wasn't this. There's nothing here, no sign of life. These people don't look alive to me, so I refuse to acknowledge them as such.

I'm not sure they're even people at all...

They refuse to acknowledge me at all. Doing the same thing they always do when I end up here, which is ignore me, until I notice something I never realise is there.

I'm here for a reason, I have to be.

That's what I keep telling myself at least, my confused and distorted mind's attempt to make sense of the incomprehensible.

These people never speak to me. It's as if I'm invisible, making me question if I belong in either world anymore. A glitch, as Tubbo called me once, something that shouldn't be there.

"You know what Fundy said before, you probably shouldn't exist."

I kind of like the fact he sees me as a glitch. Not something completely different or wrong from the system, more like a change in it. Like a malfunction, I guess, still originating from what's meant to be there. Just an adaptation of it, a new side to it.

Not a loophole.

To say I'm a loophole in the system sounds to me like I'm a problem. It comes off all wrong in my head, like I'm a parasite that snuck through and found a way to escape. To mess things up, be where I shouldn't.

I definitely shouldn't be there...

But what harm am I doing?

I don't cause a problem. Even if I bypass the system, I'm no more than a Devotion. Less of one, if anything, far more incapable than they are. I can't see anything in colour, or interact with the old world.

I can't even speak.

I'm no more capable here, not that anyone will acknowledge me anyway. Which only makes my doubts worse, that maybe I'm not fit to stay in either world.

Maybe I shouldn't stay in any...

"Then what am I doing here?!"

The words are off my lips before I know how to stop them, and I'm too stunned by the noise to react after. My hands fly to my mouth, covering it like I'll somehow manage to shove the words back down.

For once, I wish I couldn't speak.

And I wish they didn't notice me.

Those faceless creatures stir at last, each one no more than a shadow. If they had eyes they'd use them to pin me down, glare at me, stare holes straight through me and think I'm fake. A hallucination that may disappear if they blink, go back to whatever godforsaken place I'm supposed to be in.

Wherever that place is, it's certainly not here.

It's strange how much emotion you can take from a shadow. From a black void filled with these things, the lack of sound they create only fuelling my fear. Yet their presence is louder than mine even now, the chilling disturbance of those things speaking a thousand words for them.

I don't know how, but I can still tell what they're thinking. Tell that my presence irritates them, that they're just as unhappy that I'm here as I am, if not more. It's like they didn't bring me here, like they think I wanted to stay in their hellhole with them and not return to my best friend who remains in the old world.

Why are they mad at me?

Why don't I belong...

"Tommy? Tommy wake up!!"

I blink and I'm back, faced with the old world once again. Before me stands a quivering shadow, but I know instantly who it is.

"Did it happen again?" Tubbo asks, fumbling around the dark room in hopes of discovering a light source. His hand knocks into the candle with a dull clunk, and he's quick to find a match for it.

I watch the light spark to life, flickering for a few seconds before returning to a steady flame. Tubbo holds the candle in wonder, an amused glow in his eyes as he watches the fire dance.

He brings his wrist up to the candle, holding it close enough that I can see it. Even with the lack of colour in my vision, I can tell that it's different.

"Grey again," Tubbo observes, holding the band a little closer to the light. I notice that it isn't a consistent colour throughout, one side seeming darker than the other. "The band always goes grey when you go there. It's like you leave this world for a bit."

I nod along to his words thoughtfully, watching the white soak back into the band and the grey disappear. Tubbo is right, it is like I leave this place. Transfer to the second world instead, full of those shadows.

"The band never stings me when you go there," Tubbo interrupts suddenly. His tone seems upset, as if in embarrassment. His multicoloured eyes glitter as he speaks, reflecting the light of the flame. "It likes when you aren't in this world, I think."

I smile bitterly, knowing that if I could laugh right now, the sound would come out sour.

'Maybe I should stay there then.'

"No, Tommy!" Tubbo shakes his head, reaching for my wrist in an attempt to get me to face him. I watch his hand fall through with mock amusement, unsure what to think of the divide this world has placed between us.

He's right, I shouldn't be here. I'm bound to that other world, not this one. I don't belong here anymore, my death all those months ago the end of my time in the first world. Or what should've been the end, at least. Would've been, had Tubbo not kept me here. Everything is telling me the same thing, telling me I don't belong here.

Maybe I just don't want to make sense of it. I choose not to, in the hope to live a lie.

'Then why not, Tubbo? Why shouldn't I stay there?'

"You know exactly why you shouldn't stay there." He offers me a weak smile in appreciation, and I try my best to replicate it. "You're appreciated here," Tubbo tells me truthfully. "Even if you don't feel like it, you are. By me, by Techno..."

'Then why not by the world?' I protest silently, glaring at the band on his wrist. 'Why does it hurt you? Why does it want so badly for you to take off the band?'

'Why do I feel like the world is trying to get rid of me?'

Silence.

I know I shouldn't keep asking Tubbo these things. He's just as clueless as I am, if not more, my accounts of the second world unhelpful and vague. But I need to ask someone, to keep wondering why, and to find someone who can give me the answers I've been looking for.

"I don't know, Tommy." He sighs, the hollow tone in his voice making it defeated and lost. He extinguishes the candle in an attempt to hide his tears, letting them glisten only once in the light before hiding them in the shadows.

"I don't know."