/perspective shift TommyInnit
He stood atop a wooden tower, staring down.
Death awaited him there. Philza had always told him that Death had a special place for him, for all of them. A cold that waited beyond all warmth, beyond all blood.
Tommy reached down towards it.
There was no way down. No way down but this.
"I'm coming, Wilbur," Tommy muttered.
He took a step forward, then stopped, falling backwards to the ground.
He looked up and around, confused. The world around him was changed. Green grass underneath, a blue sky, and the sun above him.
Beside him...
Tubbo.
Behind him, to his other side, and beyond Tubbo, were the other members of L'Manburg.
And in front of him stood Dream.
Dream, who had been his only friend, his one companion through his exile.
And what had he done? What had he done to the only person who had attended his party, the one who had visited him every single day, talked to him, been with him?
He had been Tommy's enemy, that was what he thought. But if that was so, then why had he been there? He had also killed Mexican Dream. Why?
But that wasn't as much of a crime as throwing away a bond. It didn't justify this.
Tommy held up his compass.
Your Tubbo.
What a joke. Dream had told him what had happened.
He had thrown away his compass. Right into lava. Then why should Tommy keep his?
He could be lying, sure. But why would he? It wasn't like Tommy was going to see Tubbo ever again. He wasn't allowed to go back, but Tubbo wouldn't come here. Because he didn't care, that was why.
Tommy buried his face in his hands.
He needed this. This release, this darkness to light his world.
It would only ever be safe once he was dead.
Tommy forced himself up, to his knees, then he keeled forward.
When his head passed through the grass like it was nothing, he knew that it had been fake.
As he fell, the other members of L'Manburg whirled around him in a maelstrom, yelling, shouting, screaming, moaning. They hated him, they all did. He had destroyed their nation.
Every cry encouraged his death, every sound begging for his blood. Ranboo, Tubbo, Nikki, Eret, Fundy, Quackity. They despised him. He had always been a liability to them. They were glad he was gone.
Then Tommy looked up.
And standing on the top of the pillar, holding on to the edge, was Wilbur. He raised his hand towards Tommy, reaching. Smiling.
Behind him crouched Dream atop the pillar, grasping his arm and keeping him up. But this Dream was different. There was a distinct crack down the side of his mask, like something had hit it, hard.
And that crack showed a hint of a smile.
Tommy heaved a sob. He didn't deserve this.
He didn't deserve this loyalty. This acceptance. He deserved to die. To be gone, never to return.
He turned himself around, closing his eyes tightly.
Beneath him, he caught a glimpse of a dark red light. Along with it were two other reds, one bright and one near black.
Chaos, Death, and destruction hand in hand.
That was what he deserved.
But he didn't get it.
Because a firm hand gripped his wrist.
He knew that grip.
Weeks of planning, preparing, frustration, shouting, apologizing.
WilburSoot hadn't given up on him.
Not even when there was no chance.
So Tommy wouldn't give up either.
As he rushed towards the ground, he opened his eyes, determined, and as he rushed headfirst towards the hard, unforgiving ground, he knew it.
Tommy smiled in the face of losing his life.
Death wasn't who was waiting for him. Wilbur was.
And Tommy was going to give life another go. Not just surviving as he could, but life. The time for being calm was over.
His anger, his fury, his emotion would punish L'Manburg for what they had done.