Tommyinnit x Reader - Exile

Chapter 8 - Memories

Ghostbur's voice echoed eerily as he and Tommy muttered in light conversation. Tommy smiled nostalgically whilst Ghostbur went on a tangent about some of his good memories. It reminded him of when Wilbur and he used to sit by the river outside of their childhood home. They only had each other when they were young. Well, mostly.

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Young Tommy laughed outwardly as he chased a wild chicken, wooden sword brandishing at the poor thing as he imagined himself as a war general and the chicken being the enemy.

Tommy waved the sword at the chicken once more, before the small bird disappeared into a thorn bush to his left. You may think that Tommy would give up there and walk home, but no. For he was Thomas Careful Danger Kraken Innit and he would be beaten by no chicken!

Tommy took a deep breath and braced himself before jumping, arms forward, into the bush. He hissed as sharp pricks tingled across his arms and face, the wooden weapons drawing blood. He could feel a few that had just not been strong enough to stay attached to their branches, and had buried deep into his flesh, but he paid no attention. He was determined to find this chicken.

"When I catch this prick I'm gonna to name 'im Jeremy," Tommy thought as he gritted his teeth and squinted to find this (wrongfully assumed male) chicken.

Turning to the left again, he started army crawling towards a white-ish grey colour, assuming it to be Jeremy. Getting closer to the white, it became brighter and brighter, being blinding for a second before showing that he was at the other opening of the bush. Groaning in annoyance he finally gave up, his arms, face and legs were sore and most probably deeply scraped and scratched.

Exhaling loudly, he turned around, only for his shirt to get caught on a thick branch and he got yanked back, back, and outside of the bush. He let out a puppy-like yelp as he fell down a bumpy, muddy slope. He felt weightless for a couple seconds, but he was reminded of gravity as he hit his back against a lump in the ground. He started rolling. He picked up in speed as he continued down the dirt, random stones and/or sticks poking and bruising his body as he tumbled down.

He felt like he could hear a voice far away, but he couldn't make out what they were saying because of the harsh wind rushing past his ears.

*THUMP*

*CRACK*

He had finally reached the bottom. Trying to catch his breath, he just lay there for a second. Everything hurt. But he would not be beaten by some fall. He tried to push himself up with his arm but whined as his arm seemed to flush with pain. His face paled.

The ground near him vibrated with movement as someone approached.

"Oh my god! Tommy, are you okay? How did you get up there?"

Wilbur's familiar voice rang through his ears as Tommy cracked his signature grin and opened his eyes, wincing slightly as the light blinded him yet again.

"Yeah, I should be fine wilby. My arse hurts like a bitch though," He chuckled, seeing the comedy in the situation.

Wilbur's tall frame loomed over Tommy's battered, lanky body. He seemed quite flustered, his cheeks red at the dimple and slightly pointed ears ever so slightly pink. He was wearing his signature yellow jumper (in all truth it was getting a bit worse-for-wear) and a pair of blue jeans. They were soaked at the bottom, small pieces of sand having attached themselves to the thin fabric. Wilbur was often found soaked in water. Tommy always put it down to the fact that Wilbur said he was going for a swim or fishing (being the sort of brother who believes almost everything their brother tells them) but he was always down there and to be honest, Tommy was getting a bit tired of being alone.