Mirrors . TommyInnit AU

1 - My Friends Don't Walk, They Run

Darkness.

Pain.

That's all Tommy could focus on, as Wilbur's voice droned on about solitare while slowly getting quieter. It was as if someone took the sound and shoved it under water, watching it slowly sink into the bottomless void.

He couldn't even tell if his eyes were open. Everything was pitch black, and he felt as if someone took his soul, made it into powder, and shredded it. It was a badly interesting feeling, nearly impossible to describe. All he could say for sure, though, was that it was very, VERY uncomfortable.

Tommy breathed in sharply, and then his eyes flew open. 

Color.

Light.

Sounds.

Feeling.

It was almost overwhelming, and he had to blink rapidly to adjust to it. His ears were ringing, the high pitch echoing around his skull. Where was he? Did he pass some kind of test, and now he's in the afterlife?

He was about to call out for someone, but a voice that was way too familiar pierced his ears.

"I jumped at the slightest of sounds..." It- he? sang. "I couldn't stand the person inside me, I turned all the mirrors around."

"What the hell?" Tommy spoke aloud, and the voice halted abruptly.

"Hello?" His own voice responded. Or, it was very similar, at least.

"Where am I, and who the fuck are you and why do you have my voice?" Tommy stood, swaying slightly from the movement, but turning in a full circle. He saw hair as blonde and fluffy as his, but he could guarantee it was nicer.

"What?" The exact copy of him turned, and Tommy could see three sets of wings on him. Two on his head, two on his back, and two on his ankles. Okay, he thought, I'm calling this one Tomathy. He snickered quietly at the use of the stupid name Dream had called him, but he immediately spiraled into terror at the thought of Dream.

Before he had time to register, heavenly soft wings folded around him, and arms reached around his shoulders. He was trembling, and small, ragged breaths left his mouth. It's okay, he's- he's okay, Dream isn't here, he-he-...

"Don't t-touch me." Tommy stuttered out shakily, weakly pushing away the copy of him, Tomathy. The winged boy stepped back, a sort of understanding in his eyes. What does he know about how Tommy feels? 

"Okay, I'll just go get Wilbur, he knows how to cheer me up. And seeing how you're me for some fucking reason,  he can cheer you up. Just have to explain... how do I explain that a copy of me is having some sort of panic attack?" Tomathy walked away, through the bushes, yelling Wilbur's name.

Tommy only curled in more on himself. I don't want to see Ghostbur, Tommy thought, he's as good as a fucking worm- no idea what's going on, useless slimy thing.

Soon, the bushes rustled again, and by then, tears were streaked down Tommy's cheeks. Looking up, the movement stopped, but it was clear something had come through. What the fuck is this place?

"Tommy? What- oh. WHAT?" Wilbur materialized infront of him, just like Ghostbur would, but instead of having grayscale skin and hair, he looked normal. He wore the classic amber sweater, and Tommy felt some kind of mirror effect. He felt so safe, but at the same time, so unsafe at Wilbur's appearance. "Who the- Tommy, who is this?"

"What? I'M Tommy!" Tommy rasped with his broken voice, watching with a glare as the Avian version of him walked over. He looked so much more kempt than him. So much happier, yet so broken and unsure. Hm.

"I think we should take him to- to Dad. Crow father knows what to do," Wilbur snickered, and Tommy froze at how familiar it was. If this isn't live Wilbur, then who is it, and why are they so similar?

"Come on, other Tommy, we don't have all day. Hurry up, you're- oh, shit." Tomathy walked over, picked Tommy up, and couldn't help but curse at how light the boy was. There was a note of familiarity, Tommy noticed, in the boy's voice.

"PUT ME DOWN! WHEN BIG Q HEARS ABOUT HOW YO- WHAT THE FUCK!?" Tommy shrieked, wiggling out of Tomathy's hold and running towards a village. Heavy footsteps followed lighter ones behind the boy, and he was stopped by the sharp yank of his shirt. How the hell did they catch up to- oh. The wings, he assumes, looking at Tomathy with as much rage as he could muster.

"Big Q?" Tomathy snorted, and Tommy felt a sinking feeling in his chest. Was he being replaced? Holy shit, this was another version of him. He was so much nicer, more kempt and clean, and even had powers. Wings! On his head! And ankles! And back, but that's normal.

"What kind of fucked up parallel world doesn't have big man Quackity on it?" Tommy tried to squirm from the mirror's grasp, but he was stronger. Great, and he's stronger, he sighed grumpily.

Tomathy took him into the village, calling out a name. A name that made Tommy's heart twist and his stomach drop, and he wanted to throw up or just fucking bolt and-

"Tommy? Oh- and... T-Tommy.." Tommy looked up to see him. Phil. But this Phil is different, right? He wore a gentle expression, not an angered or annoyed one. His eyes were wide with shock. "You're not from this timeline. What the hell did you do?" He turned a glare to Wilbur and Tomathy, who dropped Tommy.

"I just found him!" Tomathy protested, "I mean, what if he's like, my ghost? What if I wasn't- what if he's like, some kind of glitched spectator?"

"What the- ghost? I'm very fucking real!" Tommy shouted, but was drowned out by Phil.

"No, he's not your ghost. Look at the bandana around his neck-," "Don't fucking touch it!" "-And the wounds on him. There's no signs of thorns or twig scratches, those are burns and battle scars. He isn't from this- this world." Phil spoke over Tommy's interruption, now turning his sky-blue eyes to the boy. Wings tucked tightly behind the man were slightly disturbed, and Tommy found himself wondering why. "So, how are you here? What's the last thing you remember?"

"U-Um," Tommy felt his heart beat quicker, and his eyes were wider. He tried not to tremble, but was failing.

"Shh, Toms, it's alright. You don't need to tell me if you're not ready, okay?" Phil wrapped his wings around the panicked boy, who was desperately trying to escape the fist heading towards him in his mind. It had hurt so bad, it- he doesn't like the void, please don't- "Hey, hey, focus."

"Killed." Tommy's voice was barely louder than a whisper. The group of three, the ones with powers, each shared a startled, troubled expression. "Beat to death."

"What- are you okay? Does it hurt?" Phil asked worriedly, and Tommy felt the blood drip down his face again. 

The youngest whined, tears filling his eyes. 

"So fucking much."