Tommyinnit Oneshots

If I Were You, I Would Have Given Up On Me Already

The moonlight swayed across the landscape, illuminating the white sands that hugged the shoreline where waves lapped against the ground. He could hear the moaning of zombies, the sizzling of creepers and the shambling of skeletons all around them. In the brief moment when no Mob was close enough, he could hear the fires flickering in the lanterns that dotted the buildings of Snowchester. His bare feet were standing in the shallows of the ocean, pieces of ice butting against his ankles as his skin went pale from the temperature. While the wind was mild in speed, it still felt like needles pricking into his skin. A jacket was hanging off his shoulders, but he didn't have the energy to pull his arms through their designated sleeves. He merely had his arms laying by his side, fingers slightly curled as they shook from the temperature. He wasn't going to make it if he stayed out there. While hypothermia had yet to claim him, he could feel his internal body temperature dropping at a steady rate. It wouldn't be long until he froze over, or his nerves stopped working around his digits. He found it ironic considering how beautiful it was. Out here, he couldn't see a trace of destruction. An endless, abyssal ocean laid before him reflecting the twinkling stars and silver moon without a trace of gunpowder or Wither remnants. How come the most pleasing views came at a deathly cost to see?

"Tommy! There you are!" A voice called out that broke the silence that had been punctuated by natural sounds. He didn't bother to look at who was approaching him, but he knew that voice. He didn't want to know. He wished that he was lost in his own oblivion that way he didn't know who was talking to him. He almost wished that he had never met the owner of that voice, regardless if he was aware of the world or not. He didn't fully let himself wish that because the person who had that voice was someone who- rather stupidly- cared about him. It was because of these reasons that he didn't do anything when a scarf was wrapped around his neck and a beanie was shoved onto his head. "I can't believe you're sleep-walking now. I mean, I guess it's a good sign, but you scared me half to death! What if I hadn't been able to find you? You could have died out here!"

"I'm not sleep-walking," Tommy muttered. Even though his voice was quiet without any explicit tone, Ranboo flinched back like he had been slapped across the face. His heterochromatic eyes widened as his mouth gaped open, searching for something to say or how to feel. Tommy turned his head enough that he could look at Ranboo without making direct eye contact or losing sight of the ocean. It was almost hilarious how confused Ranboo looked. There were dozens of emotions that flitted across his face, thousands of words in different combinations that probably wouldn't grasp what he wanted Tommy to hear. Both boys were shaking, but Tommy was from the cold and Ranboo was from sheer confusion. Tommy sighed. If he waited for Ranboo to figure out what to say, they would be there all night. "Hey, Ranboob, how are you? How's the husband? How's the kid? Did you get that promotion you wanted at work?"

"Tommy- I- how? How are you... I mean, you're... you're aware! You're talking to me, and moving on your own without any orders! How did you... what happened?" Ranboo finally managed to sputter out. He reached a hand towards Tommy, but the boy purposefully took a step back. The water splashed up to hit against his clothes, and he felt some of the ice land against the back of his fingers. His fist closed around the ice chunk, feeling it melt underneath the pressure of his body heat. Ranboo looked hurt by Tommy's actions, but he drew his hand back to his chest without making any moves forwards. Tommy stared at Ranboo for a long moment before looking down at his fist. Water was starting to drip from the cracks between his fingers and palm. He watched it fall into the water below, imagining for a moment that it was blood. Ranboo's eyes widened in concern. Tommy probably should have reassured him, but his mind was a million other places than empathy.

"I had a fucking nightmare... well, it wasn't really a nightmare. It was a memory. Two, actually, because the universe loves shitting with me," Tommy began, letting his fist open up as his hand dropped back to his side. He looked up at the moon. Clouds had started to form around the glowing sphere, fresh snowflakes descending onto the world below. Tommy could see chunks of ice start to meld together, growing bigger into whole ice sheets and icebergs. "I remembered Wilbur. That fucker tried to teach me to cook once. Of course, as a Big Man, I know how to cook, but he was Wil so I pretended not to know. I set something on fire, and he warned me not to use water because that would make it worse. Together, we spilled a whole sack of flour in his kitchen. It was hilarious as shit until that fucker made me clean it up with him. The other memory was with Techno. I don't remember it exactly. We walked in the snow together a lot. I just... his hair sticks out, y'know? That's all I know."