[┅] Journey of the Exiled (HC and DSMP Crossover)

Chapter 1.

(Not proofread. Swearing and mild descriptions of violence ahead.
Also, half of this is copy-pasted from a one shot of mine because it's a different PoV.)

Tommy had never seen the Void himself before they finally banned him from the server, but he now understood the fear that's associated with it. The never-ending darkness that wasn't even comparable to the sky at midnight because of its pitch black color, the eerie echo of all sounds that came from everywhere but nowhere at the same time, the pain in the heart of loneliness after floating around aimlessly for... was it days? Weeks? Months?

The Void didn't hurt, he wouldn't allow himself to be a wussy. The Void was just... boring. He couldn't walk around and talk until his heart's content or look at anything interesting. It mocked him, and he wanted out.

But wanting to be unbanned from the server and unexiled L'manberg was as effective as wishing for an elytra on the server.

A tear floated from his eye without permission, floating off into the Void like it's owner. Tommy scowled and wiped his eyes with the rough fabric of his tattered shirt. It's not like anyone would see him, so he didn't know why he cared so much about showing weakness.

Tommy sighed harshly and crossed his arms tight over his chest. He would rather pout like a child than cry like one.

A form appeared in the distance, approaching with surprising speed considering the Void. Tommy waited for it to turn around once they realized he wasn't worth bothering, but he couldn't deny his rapidly quickening heart rate.

Tommy scrambled as it got closer without any obvious intention to leave him alone. He leaned away, foolishly trying to put distance between the two without knowing how to move when his feet can't propel him away. It seems like he tried to run on ice or something of the like, his feet and arms moving while his body floated in the same place.

"Relax, I'm not going to hurt you," the player monotoned, reaching out and tightly holding Tommy's flailing wrists. His restriction of movement and the other player's modulated voice panicked the teen more. He tried to pull away, but the fingers around his wrist tightened to a vice-like grip. Maybe this is what wearing steel cuffs felt like. Maybe this is his true punishment, brought upon him by another player, and the Void was just a façade.

But the tight grasp on his wrists reminded him of Techno or Phil holding him when he got too destructive, not like being cuffed and imprisoned. That fond memory of family only served to push him over the edge, and the tough skin he hoped to keep disappeared as he dissolved into soundless sobs.

The other player briefly looked Tommy over as he cried silently. A few moments passed with the teen's sniffles being the only sound around them.

"Not gonna lie to you, kid, you look terrible," he finally said, holding Tommy's hands away as if he were some kind of dirty paper towel.

Clearly, emotional comfort was not this player's forte.

Tommy bristled slightly at the statement and tried yanking his arms back again. Most of his energy had been spent on sobbing in front of this stranger, and thus he failed (once more) to regain control of his hands.

"Let- go of me- you bitch," Tommy said, his voice thick with snot stuck in his throat. He blinked hard, squeezing the tears from his lids, meeting the other's gaze with a weak glare. The audacity of the other player--grabbing his hands like some wild animal.

The player pursed his lips, held his wrists firmer that earlier, and brought it to his own chest, almost as if someone has done it for him but he himself has never done it. "Really now, there's no need for that language." He eyes through the barely translucent visor, leveling them at Tommy.