Chapter Text
Toby “Tubbo” Smith was never quite sure about things, whether it be his homework answers or his spelling, he was never really sure if he was doing it right or what he was doing at all… So it came as a surprise when he was sure about this one thing.
He was not sick.
He made mistakes, that’s all, he overreacted, okay? Nothing more, nothing less, just his teenage hormones getting control of him again. It’s what every teenager had to deal with. Plus, his family just fucking moved, it was natural to have hormones and stress and every other thing that could’ve led up to this.
See, he had a perfectly reasonable explanation for why he was in this situation.
Speaking of the situation…. Tubbo wasn’t sick, which was why sitting in this stuffy office in silence should not have happened.
“So, Toby… Do you want to tell me why you might be here?” A middle-aged man asked, voice tired and sickly sweet.
Tubbo looked up at the man, eyes dead. He had half a mind to tell the doctor that he was using the wrong name but didn’t really care anymore. He was tired.
He knew what he did, the doctor did too, he just wanted Tubbo to embarrass himself and admit it out loud. His mom had already told him, Tubbo didn’t understand why he needed to say it.
Last night he had slipped up, talked about his feelings a little too much. If he remembered the exact phrasing, it was something like: “The only reason I’m not bleeding out right now is that I couldn’t find a sharp enough blade.” So suffice to say his parents were pretty concerned.
He had broken his happy persona and that had landed him here, in the most uncomfortable situation of his life. He was being questioned and had just… Stopped talking. They couldn’t tell him he was sick if he didn’t answer any of their questions.
Or at least, that’s what he thought until he heard the words “Baker Act”. He remembered something about that from a psych class he took last year. It was when someone’s family could basically send them to an insane asylum or something.
“I’m not fucking going to a psych ward,” Tubbo yelled, slamming his hand down on the arm of the couch. “I’m not fucking insane and I don’t need anything like that!”
He ignored his mother’s warning tone as she said “language.” He didn’t need to turn around to see his mother’s stormy expression and his father's pitiful one. He couldn’t give any less of a shit at the moment, he wasn’t going to an insane asylum and he didn’t care what anyone said.
“So you finally speak.” The doctor laughed awkwardly, trying to dispel the thick tension. The man looked between him and his mother, who spoke up.
“I’m not sending my son to a behavioral hospital. He’s perfectly fine, he’s just acting out.” She scowled, the expression not looking quite right on her doe-like features. Tubbo got those from her.
“Now dear…” Tubbo’s father interjected. “The boy admitted to wanting to take his own life, he needs this care.”
This is when it started to get loud, Tubbo did what he always did when his parents started to argue, roll his eyes and tune them out for a few minutes.
He however, could not tune out the fact that there were policemen coming through the door. They grabbed his arms and when he argued with them, they put him in handcuffs.
Tubbo scowled and spat at one of the policeman's feet, smiling when the man grimaced. Hah! It may not be much, but he’s not going easy.
He tried to stay present as they lead him to a car and into the back, but his mind was so fuzzy.
Tubbo wasn’t sick. He didn’t need to go. He tried to voice those thoughts but his brain had fully gone to static and all he could do was lean his head against the window of the car and watch.
He watched as they got out of the car.
He watched as they sat in a waiting room and filled out papers.
He watched as they walked into another stuffy office and was asked questions.
He watched as they instructed his parents to get a bag from home with a few changes of clothes. No strings, no zippers, no images.
He watched as his parents left.
He watched as he was being led into a big ward.
He watched as they drew his blood.
He watched as they had him fill out papers.
He watched as they ushered him into a room and told him to sleep.
He went to sleep. He didn’t want to watch anymore.
_._
Tubbo woke up to someone poking his head and a loud voice talking to him.
“Hey, hey, hey this is my room. What’re you doing in my room?” The voice asked as Tubbo blinked awake, rubbing his eyes and pushing away the hand that was poking him.
“Mmmm five more minutes dad…” He grumbled, closing his eyes again.
“Stop ignoring me!” The voice yelled as Tubbo tried to figure out what was going on and opened his eyes, looking up blearily at the source of the voice.
He got a good look at the loud voice, it was a blond kid, tall, looked kinda angry, and had blue eyes. The blond kid was continuing to yell at him as he grumbled something about who the fuck was it and to leave him alone.
“My name is Tommy and this is my room!” The kid grabbed Tubbo’s arm and pulled him off the bed. He landed on the ground with a quiet groan and a few muttered curse words.
Someone must have heard the kid yelling because he heard someone call out “Tommy’s fighting again!” and the door opened. A tired-looking nurse stepped through the door and rested her hand on her hip.
“What’s all this commotion about Tommy? It’s the morning-”
“He’s in my room!”
“Yes, he’s your new roommate. Tommy, there are three beds in this room, you were going to get a roommate eventually.”
“But this is my room!”
“It’s your room and…” The nurse checked a few things on a paper she held. “Toby’s.”
Tubbo groaned again and stood up, rubbing his eyes. “It’s Tubbo.” He interjected, grabbing the blankets that had been brought to the ground when he had and started to fold them.
“Exactly, it’s yours and Tubbo’s. He came in last night while you were already asleep. The other rooms were full so we had to put him in here.” The nurse sighed and turned to leave. “Please don’t fight anyone else, Tommy. Breakfast is in thirty minutes and then it’s group therapy. Introduce yourselves to each other please.” And she was gone, leaving the two boys staring at each other.
Tubbo had a hint of a plan in his mind that went as followed: Convince the crazy kids here that he wasn’t crazy like them, convince the workers of the same then go home. It was simple enough, he was good with people.
“... I’m Tubbo. It’s nice to meet you?” He introduced himself, cringing when the greeting sounded more like a question.
“Tommy, the biggest man here, obviously.”
Okay, he could work with this.
“Obviously,” Tubbo repeated, looking toward the door and then back at Tommy. “Can you show me around?” He asked.
“Mmmmmmmmmm,” Tommy seemed to think about it. “Alright, I’ll show you around. But you owe me!” He stomped right through the door, leaving Tubbo to follow with a relieved sigh.