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It had been an awful day for Tommy and he hadn’t known why, he attributed it to just an ‘off day’ for the last week and was beginning to think he would have to relabel that to an ‘off year’.
It was the constant chattering of his professors and peers and endless fake nagging from his friends that got to him the most. It was almost like any contact with them was the start of his downfall. He didn’t know why he felt so irritated with conversations all of a sudden nor why his heart would ache and his stomach would fall when he had to get up for the day.
Tommy noticed the bags in his eyes become more prominent and his muscles ache. He had not known why but his parents had to guess it was from the lack of consistent meals and average of about 5 hours of sleep a night. If it wasn’t bad enough that his parents had noticed, add onto the fact that his friends who could not physically assess his situation but virtually, already had an idea forming about what was going on.
“Tommy have you eaten yet?” It was a query that sent the boy in question to a halt, both his minecraft character and himself. He thought back to his last meal and garnered that it had been almost a perfect 24 hours since his last digestion of calories that wasn’t contributed from a coca cola. “Well how would you define ‘yet’?” His subtle answer carried many more questions yet gave away that he had not in fact had a meal within the recommended 3-5 hours.
Wilbur sighed in his echoey ghost voice, “Thomas you need to eat.” Hearing an alternative to his mainly used name was jarring and his neutral expression that he was hiding behind as to not rattle the fans led to a scrunch in his eyebrows and downturn in his mouth.
They both knew Wilbur was only doing this publicly to ensure that Tommy was both guilted and lectured into eating. It was a bittersweet feeling where he appreciated his friend’s thought and care but also hated the wake up call that something was going on with him.
“Must be the recent SMP events manifesting physically,” his character turns to look at Ghostbur’s, “I’ve seen and done some fucked up shit.” His joke reaches the viewers smoothly and Wilbur’s face adorns a small sympathetic-like smile before dropping, “You’re so right, here take some blue.” Their acts are put up and like the previous L’Manberg, a wall is built.
It’s only after Tommy’s stream ends, that Wilbur joins back to the vc and lets out the dreaded question, “Are you doing okay?” Tommy had hoped that his friend would ignore his previous hour’s rebuttal but atlast the ghost of Wilbur lives on even after the stream.
“I mean, as well as I can be- well no, I know you’ll pester me if I don’t tell you the truth so no, I- I’m really not,” his voice is solid and monotone almost mimicking Techno’s in a scarily bare way. “What’s up? I know about the appetite and you seem pretty drawn to yourself, secluded in a way. Is that a right enough guess? Tommy are you depressed?” It was silent for a good few moments, neither parties spoke, soaking up the seconds in between words.
“I- I’d say I’m not depressed, maybe isolated, secluded, yeah I’m not hungry, but that’s just normal? Normal. Yeah, it’s just a norm, happens to everyone. Just stressed I suppose, I have some exams coming up.” The Techno tone was broken and replaced with a wavering and rushed speech, they both had no confidence in whatever truth Tommy was trying to project.
“What’s the first stage of grief?” The figurative older brother asks.
“Denial.”
“Correct,” he praises, “the first stage of grief is denial, Tommy are you in denial? It’s okay to be depressed, and admit it. I’ve had my fair share of moments you know.” It all clicks into place and Tommy sucks in a breath of air in fear of losing anymore of his composure. Neither individuals could see one another right now but they both knew the patronizing face on the other, the wrinkles forming.
“I’m sorry but I really don’t want to talk about it right now Wilbur, I know we both expected I would open up and this would be some wholesome moment I could look back on and use moving forward but, no I, i-it’s so hard to talk about. Can we have this conversation another day, p-please?”
“Alright, we can talk another day,” the other relents, “but can you at least eat? And send me a photo of your food! None of that sneaky shit I know you do!”
“Okay Wilbur, um, thank you for trying. I’ll get there, just not today.” He really is greatful, once you extend past the bittersweet phase you realize who’s there to be there.
“Of course Tommy, you’re my friend. Brother . You know I’ll always be here, and when you’re ready to talk, bring some food too, just not ants, you know that classifies you as an anteater and you know I have a crippling hatred towards anteaters.”
“Bye,” the blonde laughs through words, adding “I won’t bring ants.”
“Good, I’m glad we’ve established this one rule. Talk soon.”