Oh, Hello

Cold Is The Night

Tommy had done it. He had escaped. His arm was definitely broken, and he knew he wouldn't be able to walk for a while, but he had left. Dream was no longer looking over his shoulder constantly. Dream was no longer dragging him through the darkness. Dream was no longer beating him, tying him to a lamppost, and leaving him for dead. Tommy was lucky he had snuck one of his old pairs of scissors into his bag, as he had used those to cut the rope that bound him in place. It had long since turned night, and Tommy had gotten his first real look at the stars in years.

The blond sat on the roof of an abandoned warehouse. It was calm. It was quiet. It was... peaceful. Tommy felt the most relaxed he had ever been in his entire fourteen years. Wind brushed through his dirty hair and he felt his shoulders fall. He was free!

So why did he feel so... trapped?

He had left Dream, hadn't he? Dream had left him to die, Dream didn't love him, so why did he feel so sad? Had he become so desperate for attention that he latched onto Dream like the leech he had been called? Had he become so attached to Dream that he had to kill him to be happy? Had Tommy been making Dream sad? Had Tommy been making Dream unhappy?

Was all of this Tommy's fault?

No. Tommy looked into the moon, his back against the cool metal of the warehouse roof. None of this was Tommy's fault. Tommy had done nothing but try to please Dream. He had done his best to be a good son, a great kid, the perfect child, but he had failed. But he hadn't failed because of his own mistakes, he had failed because the heroes failed him. Tommy had done his best to get his father help before, but the heroes had always brushed him off!

'This case is too easy, we won't get any coverage!' 'There isn't enough proof from the kid, we can't do anything.' 'We know he's had a criminal history, but we can't do anything now that he's gone to therapy.'

They had failed him by turning a blind eye to the child who was suffering in the closet-sized room he called his home. They had failed him by never coming to check on him like they promised. Was that why he had seen Peace outside his window the other night? Was that why he heard whispers in the wind whenever he had finished crying? Was that why he never seemed to die? Did they keep their promise, but never show themselves? Tommy ignored the feeling of hope filling his heart. He trapped the feeling in a box and ignored it. He didn't deserve to hope anymore.

It started to hit Tommy as the moon continued its path across the dark sky. He was alone. He had no one to turn to, just like he had thought. He didn't have any family outside of Dream, and he had no friends that he knew of. Tommy ignored the thought of Tubbo and Ranboo, two of his friends from grade school that he had lost contact with after Dream thought he didn't need to go to school anymore. He always wondered if they would still be his friend, with his scars and all. He shoved the feeling of longing in his hope and ignored it. Tommy was alone on this warehouse, looking at the stars that he had looked at for the past fourteen years.

It felt like he was looking at them for the first time in his life.

He watched as a few stars fell, and he wondered if they were like him. Were they running from their past? Were they lost and confused? Were they broken, unable to be fixed? He ignored the thoughts of how they could be part of his constellation. He didn't deserve a star, let alone a whole group of them. He didn't deserve what he had been longing and living for. He didn't deserve it, just like Dream said.

Tommy sighed softly, ignoring the way his face became warm and wet with tears. He was alone, just like he had been all his life. He was broken, even more so than when he started out in this hellhole. He was lost, he was confused, and he was Tommy. He held what he had to his chest, and he wept.

Tommy wept and he cried and he screamed to the stars, asking why no one cared for this lost, broken boy that had begged for love since he could speak. He cried, calling for his father who had left him to die on the streets, alone. He begged the stars for an answer, for a sign that he wasn't what he thought he was, but no one called back.

Tommy was alone.

But, as dull blue eyes looked back at the stars, he began to wonder if they cared for him. Stars couldn't speak, of course, so what if they had watched him grow as the years went by? What if they watched him call and sing to them? What if they had collected the names that he had called them? What if the first star he ever laid his eyes upon was still in the sky, watching and waiting for him to see her again?

"Are you still there, Clara?"

The stars twinkled brightly, almost like they were laughing. 'Of course Clara is here, silly!' he could almost imagine them saying. 'Clara has watched you for years! Clara has stayed by your side through thick and thin! Clara has always been with you!' the stars and their voices gathered into one. 'Clara loves you, as do we, little heart!'

And Tommy wept. To the heavens he faced, with tears falling from his cheeks and sobs tumbling from his lips, Tommy cried harder than he had his whole fourteen years.

He was loved, and Tommy loved the stars more than ever.