Iris . Blindinnit AU [DSMP]

Honeysuckle

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Honeysuckle
Affection, caring
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Sharp blades of grass dug into his skin like knives, and stickers clung to the hair in his legs. There was something in his ears, and he wanted to pry them out. But his hands wouldn't move. His feet couldn't move.

Something brushed on his shoulder, and he tried to look in the direction. He must have a blindfold or wore something blocking his sight. Everything was dark.

A sense a dread settled in his stomach, as a foot squished his face into the grass, scratching his cheeks. He twisted his wrists and feet, but felt a rope dig into him more. 

Muffled laughter came from somewhere. It was eerily familiar.

The same rough, gloved hand he memorised took him by the neck. He was lifted off the ground, his back squished against what felt like a tree. Tommy tried to scream, but he couldn't even breath.

He just wanted to escape this personal hell. But as if reading his mind, the laughing man laughed more.

"Escape is inevitable. Death will swallow you, Tommy. And it will be I who takes your breath."

His throat gasped for air as the hand tightened it's grasp. He was brought away from the tree, then bashed into it repeatedly. One final smash and his head started to pour out blood over his face.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Sheets flew off of him, a cold sweat covering his skin. The clothes he wore clung to his skin, and his chest felt ever so tight. No one was around, it seemed, and there was no sound but an Enderman, a fire, and snow.

His reach for Tubbo's compass was unmet, and hazy memories broke in.

He remembered falling into a hole. His ankle still hurt.

He remembered digging up dirt for something. Tubbo's compass, maybe?

He remembered a lot of white, then nothing. The nothing...

"Nothing," he whispered, his voice scratchy and dry. He needed water, but he wasn't even sure where he was.

He remembered a warm embrace and oaky scent. Philza?

"D—" Tommy's breath hitched, "Phil? Wilbur? Techno?" He called out to the best of his ability, and to no avail. They may have left him a note or something. That would...not be helpful. Not, he remembered.

At least he had memories of the sun, bright and annoying. At least he had memories of Wilbur's yellow sweater, gifted to him by Philza. At least he remembered Tubbo's smile, and bees, and flowers.

Tubbo? He would never see him again. Sure, it'd be lovely to hear his voice. But seeing that gorgeous smile? Watching him ruffle his own hair?

Doesn't matter, he supposes. He'll never see him again anyhow. Tubbo sent him away to this... Logstedshire and hasn't visited once. Dream visits him more than his own best friend...

Dream?

"Dream? Dream, you there?" He needs him. Sure, he was cruel sometimes, but Dream showed he was the only one that cared. He needs Dream. He needs Dream. Where is he?

"Dream? Dream, please! You promised—" He swallowed for saliva, "you'd help me! My friend?"

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Anybody?

A click of metal, than the creaking of wood filled his ears. Suddenly, two pairs of footsteps echoed through the cabin downstairs. There was the sound of talking, then climbing on a ladder.

"You're awake again."

"Dad?"

Philza choked up, having not been called that by his son in a very long time.
"Hey, Toms."

"Where's Dream?" Tommy tried his best to listen for his friend.

"Shh... He isn't here. You're safe."

"I'm not safe! I need him here! Phil! Where is Dream?" Tommy let out a wet cry, "Please... I need him..."

Phil embraced Tommy's rubbing his back in a soothing motion as he hushed him. Whatever that bastard had said to Tommy would come back to bite him, Phil would make sure.

"It's okay, Toms."

The fingers swirling his long hair was relaxing. He still needed Dream, but perhaps he wanted to need other people as well. No matter how much they hurt him, they were still family.

Tommy stopped crying, not moving in Phil's arms. If his breath was any quieter, he might be thought dead. It was scary to an outsider, but the loud child was known to Philza to breath quietly. It was a sign he was actually calm, a rare sight.

"Phil?"

"Yes, Tommy?"

"...You won't leave me, too, right?"

"I won't. Nothing can hurt you."

They both wanted to live the lie, live the peace. It was ideal, but not realistic. They both knew the lie would end eventually, broken by how the world really is. How much the world hurts to live in.

But for just a moment, father and son held each other.

But for just a moment, father and son were in peace.