Don't Confuse Falling with Floating, it Could get you Killed.

One of life's many rules is that falling from very tall heights will kill you. It's caused by like gravity or something. Tommy knew that, he knew that very well. It was kinda the whole point actually, the whole reason he constantly tried to jump from the Nethers various edges, and fall from the cliffs of the Overworld. He wanted to feel like he was flying once again.

He couldn't do that anymore, flying he means. He could fall whenever he liked, but he used to fly high above the his brother and friends. He used to fly when he was a child. He had grown up, he no longer flew, not because he didn't want to, by god did he want to fly again. To feel the wind tickling his ears and tinting his cheeks pink. He wanted to glide through the air above the clouds, in the suns light. He wasn't Icarus, his wings were not made of wax, they would not melt if he got to close to the sun. His were made of flesh and bone, the sun had melted them anyway, and he fell.

The second war had stolen away his wings, and he was cursed to fall for eternity. Not physically, no his father would have saved him by now, or his brother, or his friend. Anyone would have saved him, although, that was most likely, untrue. Almost no one would save him from physically falling for eternity, technically he would have been floating, if he were to fall for eternity. He had fallen many times, scraped many knees, elbows, and hands. He had fallen many times. He had never fallen this far mentally, though, and, even as hard as it is to believe, he was still falling. He was floating, then, falling eternally. They were one in the same, falling and floating, when he was falling he felt as though he was floating. Even the cold wind knotting his thick curls, and brushing past his thin face gave the warm relaxation he had longed for, he'd needed the pinch of the wind on the tips of his nose and ears. He needs the bite of cold on his arms, legs, and face.

He would never get it again, while flying he felt it all, the cold, the wind, and the warmth. He felt tired, now, he felt so tired from falling. He just wanted to hit rock bottom, to drown. Maybe he already had, and that's why he had burned down George's house. Maybe he had hit rock bottom and missed the feeling of floating, so he dug a hole, and made a new bottom. Maybe he dug a hole, like the one Wilbur had made in his heart, or the ones that Dream constantly mistook for storage of supplies and TNT. Maybe Tubbo had seen him struggle to dig that hole, and decided to help, by shoving him aside and doing it himself.

Tubbo had gotten rid of a problem. Tommy always knew how great of a problem solver he was, and Tommy had been the problem that needed solving. So he did just that, and pushed the problem far far away. Quite literally, he had sent Tommy somewhere else to fall. Dream pushed him over the edge of the hole that Tubbo had helped dig, and he was falling again. It wasn't as peaceful as his first fall, it was filled with explosives and hunger. It was filled with darkness, the other had been bright till the end. He felt empty, and unfulfilled, he felt as though all his hard work of digging a hole had gone to waste. He didn't enjoy the feeling of falling as much as before, maybe it's because he didn't have someone to catch him.

Maybe Dream would, that was unlikely though, he'd been the one to push Tommy in the first place. He had not a single ounce of remorse as he did so, he just watched him fall, Tommy felt himself float. It wasn't the same as before, it was more exhausting and it filled his head with the screams of his younger self as he fell right beside Tommy, wings flailing with panic. Tommy watched idly from the side, not doing anything to help the child float instead of fall. He never could muster up the courage to reach out of the shadows and pull the child into the safety of his arms. He just let the child struggle to fly. Ranboo had reached for his fading figure a few times, his loving arms had not been long enough to reach his floating mind.

At least he had tried, maybe he would meet him at this new rock bottom, and catch him before Dream trapped him inside a box. Maybe the tall man would save him from his floating. But if he was floating, why would he need saving? He wouldn't, he didn't need to be saved. He wanted to float anyway. It wasn't peaceful anymore, but he still missed to fly, and falling felt the most like flying, so he didn't bother to ask for help. He pushed the loving arms away, he let himself float.