Dream SMP Oneshots

When Memories are All You Have (You Really Have Nothing)- SBI 🤕😥

OH wow we got a long one- 7.4k words, sorry guys! anyway make sure to stay safe guys, and here are the TW's for this one: Depression, brief mention of SH, PTSD, self-neglection- let me know if I miss any, alright? 

Good luck!

Tommy's POV

A warm blanket covered the entire house, it was soothing and it was comforting. Outside, the sun rose high despite the leaves that had fallen to the ground in arrays of red, yellows, and oranges like a painting straight out of someone's imagination. The grass whistled softly in the wind as tunes of sweet honey and nothing carried in through slightly ajar windows. The breeze was cool and crisp compared to the dew that hung on wash clothes. Through the blinds stripes of sunlight painted the countertops, making the tests magnetizeded to the fridge glisten warmly and proudly. It seemed surely perfect even as a dusting of a snow fall painted the landscape in the cool month of October. In the middle of nowhere the sacred home was crystalized with small tinges of frost in the corners of the walls, if this was all you ever saw you would assume only the most perfect and humble family could reside inside. You never want to judge a book by its cover, or a house by its song.

There was a reason the drapes were closed and the door was shut, after all.

It was around two thirty in the afternoon when Tommy finally managed to trudge himself out of bed and through the eerily silent hallways of his home. Pyjamas that were far too large for him hung off his body, a plain white T-Shirt messily tucked into red and white cow-printed cotton pants, which almost covered his socked feet completely. Likely a hazard for walking down the stairs, hence why he was thankful this place was one story only- a bungalow, as he had been told. Golden blond curls bounced with every slide step he took, messily tangled together all while still looking presentable enough for him to convince himself he could go another day without brushing it. For Tommy, every morning was a battle against his body to will it awake- to will it to eat, to read, to brush his teeth. The worst part is Tommy wasn't even strong enough to win this battle against himself, he simply compromised. Some days he would eat, but on those days he wouldn't have a shower- some days he would read some, but he would go a day or two without nutrients. Today he had managed to convince himself to eat breakfast- or, well, lunch- in exchange for sleeping for the vast majority of the day to come. Maybe if he was lucky enough to wake back up he could muster up a shower, if he had enough energy. Tommy never seemed to have enough energy, and it was exhausting.

He slid into the kitchen, dully doing a slide and a pose at the end to make himself crack a small smile. Without anyone here, he seemed to only need to amuse himself. Was he really not this funny? Quickly he shook off the thought even as the feeling of it ate away at his intestines, opening up the fridge slowly. He ignored the tests on it, always reminding himself to take them down. The last one he got put on there was from three years ago, then again there was hardly a school to go to anymore. He got hit with a refreshing blast of cold air that tickled his senses slightly, stemming a small sniffle and shooting the briefest feeling of amusement through him before it died off. Inside were a few options for him, even as he desperately searched for something he wouldn't have to cook. Of course there would be no leftovers- when was the last time he had eaten to make some? He made a mental note to make extra today as he begrudgingly took out some chicken, tomatoes, and bread. He debated using egg as well before deciding it would take too much work, so he placed a pan atop the stove as he tried not to flinch away from the awoken flame.

Fire.

His eyes watched it, pupils dilating as his breathing hitched in the back of his throat, everything else seeming to go out of focus aside from the auburn orange flames that tickled the stove top. Fire... never ending, screaming-

"PLEASE! Dream, I'm sorry, please-" begging for your own life never gets easier, Tommy noted.
"Sorry isn't enough Tommy.. you aren't enough!" Almost enthusiastic and joyous, a voice rang across the nether like the chorus of a song Tommy can't get out of his head. The slight cracks in the voice, the manic energy that vibrated from the words, it was too familiar.