Forget-Me-Not (dreamxreader)

39 || Anger

TW: SWEARING, YELLING, GREIF, THEMES OF DEPRESSION

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The hood of my cloak was soaked with rain but I remained dry. At least the weather today is fitting, I think. Hushed voices behind me are the background noise to my sorrow. I may be safe from the rain but I felt cold inside anyway. I feel numb. This day should never have come. 

Tommy's dripping gravestone stared back at me. Little droplet races down the cobble face and around the letters someone had engraved into it. 

Tommy Minecraft

A son, brother, soldier, and best friend. 
We vow to carry your legacy with us and tell your story.

Age 17

The meadow was thick with sludge that clung to my boots and had made it hard to bury the coffin six feet under the surface. I couldn't bear to bury him in the SMP or L'Maburg. I didn't want the public interfering or spreading gossip. Tommy deserves better than that. 

Even though we had just had the service I can't remember it. I just stared at the coffin. My mind was racing with regrets about what happened that day. I could have saved him. It's my fault he's dead. If only I was faster. 

Tubbo and I didn't say anything during the service, we were equally lost to the world around us. Silent with no tears left to cry. I don't remember the last time we ate properly, or the last time I slept without night terrors. 

"Do you want to be alone for a moment?" Dream had stood with me and held my hand through it all. My fingers felt still like ice since they had been exposed to the rain. But I force them to squeeze Dream's hand so that I don't have to speak. 

I barely feel the featherlight kiss Dream presses to my cheek but I feel it when he lets go of my hand. I tuck it into my pant pocket and let my cloak surround my body like a curtain. I had forced myself to dress well but left my crown in my room, today was not a day for pride. 

None of us had black clothes in the house besides Dream, George and Sapnap. I don't think Tommy would have liked us wearing black anyway. 

"You fucking lot look like you're about to kill me not mourn me," I imagine he would say. He'd have a cheeky grin and bright eyes sparkling with mischief. He'd punch Tubbo in the arm and tell him to lighten up and call me "woman" and make some kind of joke about how serious I look. 

I wish Tommy was here to say those things. 

I'd only ever been to one funeral before. I must not have been more than five years old. Mum and Dad dressed me in a little black coat that I wore over my white top and grey woollen pinafore. Like today, it was raining. 

I wonder if the world knows when somebody dies. I wonder if the world rains just for them so that the families and loved ones feel comforted knowing the world misses that person too. 

The funeral was for a senior member of the village. I don't remember well, but my parents were upset so I guessed he was important. There was one thing about him I remembered clearly. He owned medals. Medals from a distant relative who was long dead and gone. I remember wondering if the medals were from Old World.