Chapter 4

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Since he hadn't left the shelter in years, Tommy embraced the cool, night winds as they ruffled his grown out hair for what felt like the first time. The air wasn't cool and refreshing like they were before the Waves. In fact, they stung his cheeks worse than winter winds on the northern Irish coast, and the sinking temperatures numbed his ears and fingers. Dream had been smart to wear gloves even if they were fingerless. Nonetheless, being cold was better than being hot, and that was something everyone left on Earth could easily agree on.

As they ran, Dream recounted information to Tommy. So far, Dream had found Tommy just north of Brighton, and he'd heard a tip that someone matching Wilbur's and George's descriptions were seen on the French coast. All they had to do was figure out where on the coast. Most likely in Calais. The closest town from the English coast.

"...Once we find them, I'll call Sap-" Dream abruptly coughed into his fist. "I'll call Sa-"

Dream crumpled to his knees and hacked out his lungs into his gaiter mask. For a split second, Tommy panicked, but he recovered quickly and fished a water bottle from his bag. He offered it to Dream, but Dream shoved it away. He tore his gaiter away from his neck turning a dark shade of pink as his upper body began to shake. Droplets of blood spewed from his mouth and onto his hand. He hoped Tommy couldn't see it.

Clutching his chest, Dream flung his smile mask somewhere into the road. He needed air, and a face free of masks would probably help. At least that's what he hoped would happen. Tears involuntarily pooled in his eyes, and blood trickled out of his mouth and nose as the wheezing coughs racked through his body. Didn't help like he wanted.

"Dream! What the hell are you thinking?" Tommy scrambled to the ground searching for his mask. "The Ash'll-"

Dream couldn't reply. His vision blurred beyond he coughs sounded so much like wheezes. Only much sharper. Tommy panicked frantically muttering to himself.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit... Fuck, what do I do? What do I do? Goddammit, goddammit. Fuck, what do I do?"

He propped Dream upright against an abandoned car. When his breathing slowed, Dream wiped the trickling blood from his chin with the back of his hand. He hadn't run a marathon, yet he struggled to catch his breath as if he had. He shuddered as several chills ran down his spine. Tommy offered him the water bottle again expecting him to refuse it, but this time, Dream downed the entire thing in seconds.

"Hey Big Man, you alright now?"

His eyes still shut, Dream sighed. He couldn't tell, but Tommy was genuinely concerned. After his parents, dogs, and the brothers back at the safe house, every person Tommy had ever known and cared about had left his life. In fact, Dream was the first person in over a year that Tommy had seen and known. Dream brought him news of the world and their friends, and he'd saved him from being killed by who knows what or who back in that not-so-safe house. Tommy owed Dream too much for him to realise.

This scene seemed eerily similar to Dream's SMP plot. Tommy depended on Dream once again. In debt to him in such a short amount of time it was worrying. Only this time, it wasn't destructive or manipulative. Well, Tommy hoped it wouldn't result in either, but anything goes during the apocalypse. Dream batted Tommy's hand off his shoulder.

"Alright, I'm good. Let's keep going. There's a motel up the road. We can get shit there."

Tommy shook his head, "Let's walk at least."

Dream sighed secretly relieved to slow down, "Alright. Whatever helps you sleep."

The pair walked in silence for the next few miles, and Tommy let his thoughts drift elsewhere. A gentle breeze left tingling guilt on his arms. Were they okay like Tubbo? Were they even still alive? And Sapnap, and Bad? Were they okay? Hopefully, they were at least all alive. Had Dream lost his family too? He mentioned Drista, so she must still be kicking. And what about Dream's wonky cough? He'd been coughing in his sleep in the truck too. Tommy heard it while he was awake. He'd fallen asleep to it as if it were a white noise box.

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