there is only us | wilbur soot x reader

Chapter 2 - Woods

Tommy's POV

I was running.

The entire day felt like a daze, barely managing to put one foot in front of the other, For the most part, Tubbo and I were completely ignored, though I was somewhat grateful for it. If I were to speak, I probably would have embarrassed myself with incoherent stuttering and mumbling. And even if I had managed to string together a few proper sentences, I would have spoken upon impulse, thus embarrassing me yet again. There was no easy way out.

So I simply kept my mouth shut. Most of the time.

That is what Wilbur told me to do, after all. To not speak unless specifically spoken to, and even then to say only the minimum. If I were to ruin our chances at a peaceful agreement with the Dream SMP, Wilbur would murder me before the enemies could even touch me. I had convinced myself that I would remain as compliant as possible, but the minute the trio stepped out of their carriage my past trauma came roaring back and my hatred for the men boiled hot and eager just below the surface.

So I simply kept my head down. Most of the time.

The following hours had been filled with a war of its own, using words and quips that had flown right over my head. Wilbur did all the talking. The only thing I knew was how to do was pick up on the general mood, and I had a sick feeling that, despite the endless conversations and debates, the Dream Team had already made up their minds. There was only one way out of this.

And even while recognizing my demise, I remained steadfast with hope and duty. I would serve this country loyalty, doing what I believe is best for the people.

Worst comes to worst, I would go down fighting.

I made sure Tubbo was at my side the entire time, but the minute I was alone I had taken off without any idea of where to go.

I was running so fast, my feet pounding on the ground as the trees flew past me in a blur. Stray branches scraped at my arms, legs, and face like devilish claws reach out to me. The leaves crushed noisily under my feet as I tore through the forest, tears burning the fresh cuts on my cheeks, and the salt mixed with blood.

The woods feel like a cage.

I had been running for so long. I didn't know how long, but the sun was dancing with the horizon. It wouldn't be long before it was dark. And in the dark, I would be lost, with no sense of direction or security.

And at night, the forest comes alive.

With animals and people alike. Phantoms' cries echo at the moon, their yellow eyes fixed on me like prey. Unidentified creatures rustled in the undergrowth, putting me on high alert.

But the people. Criminals, hiding safely behind the tree trunks where no sane human being would go. Desperate outlaws, exiled for their past deeds, living off the bare minimum.

And also me.

I was neither a criminal nor an outlaw. I was the right-hand man to the president of L'manberg, a privileged position for a teenager. But this was not L'manberg. This was not my territory to rule over, and I had no doubt the people in these woods didn't care much about titles.

And yet there I was, mingling with the darkness and the unknown. It truly is fascinating the wonders extreme amounts of pressure, stress, and worry can do, especially to someone of little life experience.

Fascinating. Unless, of course, you are that a pressured, stressed, worrisome teenager with no clue how the world works outside of your home.

Outside of the obsidian walls that keep us safe. That keep us protected from the criminals and the outlaws. The same ones I've just willingly visited.