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Tommy knows that it’s stupid, that all of it is just the green monster in the back of his mind that school counselors always told them to not feed, “don’t give in”, but he can’t help it as he stares at the clip over and over again. He knew Wilbur was his best friend, he’s mentioned it multiple times off-stream and said it live to over one hundred thousand people, which has to mean something, right? It has to, he desperately wishes, hoping that maybe it would fucking make his brain shut up for once.
Feeding the monster was always the big thing they pushed in school, don’t let jealousy consume you, because you are unique, you don’t need to be envious of others. Tommy doesn’t feel that way, though, he feels unoriginal, he feels like a farce. He hid behind his streaming persona so much that when the camera turns off, he can’t help but wonder what he’s become. It’s why right now his brain was spiraling while staring at a clip of said best friend talking about his replacement. That’s- It wasn’t fair to Ranboo, really, to put all of the blame onto him. He couldn’t help it that everyone seemed to like him better, that everyone got along with him, that he was just wholly much more enjoyable for people to watch.
He would know, he scrolls through comments upon comments on “beeduo” compilations and sees how people like them so much better than Tubbo and him, and he thinks about how little they were talking recently. It was mainly because their sleep schedules didn’t align and Tommy had college, which makes him think about another shot in the gut when he had to find out his supposed best friend dropped out of school through a Twitch clip, for christ-sake. It didn’t help the little growing part of his mind that keeps building every day, condemning him to loneliness. He wasn’t doing enough, he wasn’t funny enough, he was too loud and obnoxious. There was a reason he had a whole entire introduction bit about being annoying, because he knew he was, from so much experience with bullies and scrolling through indirects on Twitter. Maybe it wasn’t healthy how much he was looking at the feedback he gets, how many hours he’s chugged into lurking on social media to see what people say about him.
Wilbur always told him it was unhealthy to do so, “taxing on your mental health” were his exact words, but he can’t help it when he’s staring at fanart upon fanart, clip upon clip, meme upon meme of Ranboo, or him and Tubbo, and he just kind of feels useless. He knows about the fundraising, and the sub-count and he tries to hide how much it hurts him, because Ranboo is doing so much more than Tommy, he’s so much more likable, funnier, and actually tolerable for more than twenty minutes at a time, and Tommy keeps trying to hide it, but it stings. Every time he goes on Twitter, or looks at his comments, he feels multiples of those stings, like angry wasps after you kick the nest. Makes him think of the Shining, a movie that Freddie and Eryn had convinced him to watch in high school, one that scared him shitless to this day, and he can hear the dulcet tones of Jack Nicholson tell him, “Doc, come on out and take your medicine, take it like a man!” He’d the read the book after, and maybe it entranced him, the wasps and how they kept buzzing, buzzing, buzzing. It’s like his brain at times, an overlapping of his own voice telling him everything wrong with him.
It was even harder to deal with after becoming close with Wilbur, because who was he to take up his idol's time? Wilbur was so cool, a fucking riot of a man, and Tommy thought he was absolutely the best, and really, he doesn’t understand why Wilbur wants to spend time with him beyond pity. Who would want to even spend time with him when he isn’t being funny? Who wants to deal with his nervous fits when he deals with people, when he asks for advice on everything, when he freaks out when he gets groceries and needs someone to stay on the call with him? It was stupid, it was so incredibly idiotic and he hated it. The feeling of betrayal sinking down his stomach at the idea of Wilbur doing any of that with anyone else, that his pseudo-brother (who is he kidding Wilbur is his brother in all the senses) would choose anyone above him. It’s why Tommy originally clung to Wilbur when Tubbo initially got close to Ranboo, hoping that maybe Wilbur could soothe the fear that sits in his throat, causing a lethargic feeling whenever he tries to speak about it.
The one person he thought wouldn’t join the Ranboo hype train, was praising him and Tommy hated how much it made his heart crumble. Wilbur was his best friend, right? He- He wouldn’t leave Tommy for Ranboo, right?
He’s helped him so much, right? He’s- Maybe he’s done nothing and Wilbur is actually aching to replace him, and hey, Tommy wouldn’t fault him for it, he would replace himself too if he could.
It’s why he listens to his words over and over again, sinking into the realization that the one person he thought would never leave him probably will, he’ll leave just like Tubbo, and be buddied up to Ranboo. It hurts, to think about it, to see the man he’s gotten so close to, the one he considers family above the rest, to choose someone over him, and he just can’t hold it in anymore. His light shaking starts to rumble into tremors so vigorous that he wouldn’t be able to type a full sentence if he tried, and tears flood his eyes and he can’t even see his PC anymore, but he can still hear the clip playing over and over and he can’t fucking breathe, not with how hard he is crying, sobs wrecking his throat with high-pitched whines, and he wishes he could be a different person, that maybe if he was more likable he wouldn’t have to feel this way, to be scared of just getting replaced.
His sobs echo through his quiet room, headphones now on the floor so he doesn’t have to hear the comforting voice of his older brother pick someone else. Tommy keeps trying to wipe the mucus flowing from his nose, desperately clawing at his eyes in attempt to get them to stop the waterworks. He barely even heard when his mum entered the room, confused at the sounds her son was making and helping him out of his chair and onto his bed, letting him cling onto her as he absolutely wailed into her shoulder. She didn’t ask what happened, and Tommy was almost grateful for it.
Tommy eventually fell asleep, leaning against her side, tear-tracks drying on his flushed cheeks.
She decides something in that moment, studying her son’s tear-stained face, his rosy cheeks, and reddened nose. There are bags sitting under his eyes, attesting to the fact her son hasn’t slept soundly for a few months. It was when he had traveled down to see his friends, the internet ones, and she had found her son asleep on the phone with the tallest one, her husband had described to her the conversation he had with the lad, he was good for their Tom. He had his arm slung around their son as they walked, and he’d promised her husband to protect their son as he was in his care.
Tommy also drove them nuts with his music, playing it any chance he got, screaming the lyrics along with the tracks, and sometimes she hears the calm acoustics of a guitar playing from Tommy’s room, the older man’s smooth voice seeming to sooth any issue her son didn’t feel like telling her. It was also an increasing amount of occurrences that she’s found them video calling, the older man teasing her son and being teased in return, and it’s the happiest she’s ever seen him. It was weird to think of someone she hasn’t met as somewhat family, from what she’s heard from her son he’s a good man, solid and kind, roaringly hilarious and witty, talented and soothing; a good friend.
In confidence, he even told her that he views Wilbur as a brother, and she’s happy that he has found someone that he trusts as much-or even more so than her and his father. Maybe, maybe he would be able to get down to the root of Tom’s current issue. She sends a text.
He doesn’t hear the phone call she makes only a few minutes later, “Hello, is this William? My husband gave me your number,” there is chattering on the other part of the line, “Yes, this is regarding Tom, he- I don’t think he is having a good week, would you be able to come up for the weekend?” She stays determined as he thinks it through, knowing that the restrictions were finally letting up, only lightly, but still enough he could make it across the UK to see his little brother. “Oh, splendid, and don’t worry about a hotel, there is a guest room that is free that you can stay in if you feel like it,” she tries to keep her voice cheery, hiding the relief that is flooding through her veins. She gets his final confirmation and thanks him, placing the phone to her side and looking down at her boy, and shuffling part of his hair off his forehead, and leaving a kiss in its wake.
The rest of the week flies for Tommy, doing college work and working on videos, avoiding Twitter and Discord notifications like the plague, and he feels kind of bad for shutting everyone out, but it’s all he could do to stop the voice in the back of his head telling him he isn’t enough. He even went to hang out with Eryn and Freddie, which felt really nice, because they could talk about things that didn’t include Ranboo, hell they haven’t even met Ranboo so it’s not like they would know that he is now Tubbo’s best friend. It was nice, until he had to go home and sit in the icky feeling, looking that people found Ranboo’s reply to his tweet funny and tagging him in memes. He turned his phone off and put it on his nightstand, lying face down on his bed and trying to will himself to not cry. It took everything in himself to not, and eventually broke and cried himself to sleep.
Waking up after another breakdown made him feel tired all over again, and he almost fell down the steps into the living room. His mum was sitting at the table with her laptop open and a bunch of emails displayed on the bright screen, “’Morning, Tom, dad made brekkie, so help yourself, and remember we have family coming over tomorrow, so if you stream, please, remember to keep it down.” He nods, not remembering the thing about family visiting but maybe she mentioned it once when he was zoning out, and he just forgot. His dad made pancakes and bacon, which he grabbed four and two strips, sitting down at the dining room table and digging into his breakfast.
Tommy makes quick work of his pancakes and bacon, placing his plate into the sink and washing off some of the syrup, and then putting it into the dishwasher. He pads up the stairs, Betty following him and taking a spot on his bed as he sits in his desk chair. She rests her head on one of his pillows and he snickers at her antics before opening his editing program and working on the latest assignment. Schoolwork was good to distract the asshole part of his brain, it replaced the small quiet with problem-solving, with something actually productive.
He was able to get his part of the project done, sending his finished part to his partners to go through and decide where to go on from there. It was good to get that done, it made him feel a little better about when he spent all of the day before crying and shit.
When going to bed Tommy throws on a Shroud VOD for some nostalgia, falling asleep hopefully without the less than fruitful thoughts. Instead, he tosses and turns until he eventually gives in, searching up one of the unofficial channels that upload Wilbur’s VODs onto YouTube. He clicks one of the random ones from before they knew each other and let it start up, falling asleep to the sounds of his brother screwing around in Minecraft with the friends he never met.
Tommy wakes up to blinding light in his eyes, and the whining sounds of Walter as the big dog leans against him. “Good morning Walter,” Tommy mumbles, petting the dog, and slightly giggles when his dog tries to lick his face, and he weakly pushes him off. The dog paces the room while Tommy changes out of his pajamas, into something a little bit more socially acceptable, knowing he’s going to be forced to socialize with anyone of his extended family, and he would really rather not, but he doesn’t have any control over if it happens or not. So, he just sucks it up and walks downstairs, being met with Betty yipping at his feet. He laughs and scratches her under the chin, placing a kiss on her forehead as well, and then he walks into the kitchen. Breakfast was left out for him, eggs, toast, sausages, and muffins in their assorted bowls.
He grabs some of each, placing them on a plate, and shoveling down his food, and cleaning up afterward. His mum was in her office, working and his dad was out in the yard, probably working on the garden. It was just the waiting game now, so he sits on the couch, Betty at his feet and Walter at his side, scrolling down his Twitter timeline and ignoring any tweet from Tubbo or Ranboo.
It takes about an hour or so for a knock to sound on the door, and Tommy assumes he is the one to get it so he blocks the dogs with his legs and opened the front door, expecting to see probably his grandmother or aunt, but instead there stands Wilbur Soot. He has on one of his giant sweaters, his puffy coat, and one of his various beanies. The glasses he usually wears to see are sat on the collar of his sweater, and Wilbur has slid his phone in his pocket, and looks at Tommy. He has that huge smile on his face, the one that Tommy got used to seeing over the shitty quality of discord calls. “Will?” He whispers, voice uneven, and Wilbur just smiles bigger. “Hey, Toms,” and before Tommy realized, he had leaped forward to hug him.“Woah, there, Toms, didn’t know you were going to mow me down, I would’ve not stood in the doorway,” Wilbur jokes, wrapping his arms around the boy, tucking his chin above his brother’s head. “I missed you,” Wilbur says, more to the air than to Tommy, but he heard it anyway. He tries to ignore the way that Tommy flinched at the words, the way he can feel his brother start to shake, his breath hiccupping. “You don’t have to tell me what happened, Tom, but I’m here and I missed you,” he turns his head to bury his nose into Tommy’s blond curls, he takes a breath. “I- I missed you too, Wilby,” Tommy mumbles into Wilbur’s chest, “I- I didn’t mean to- to ignore you, I just- I just don’t- I’m not- Will, why do you like me?” Wilbur coos at him, “Oh, baby,” he pulled away, not too far but enough that he could look Tommy in the eyes. “You’re one of the funniest people I’ve ever met, you’re hilarious, and you’re always protective of your friends and try to help others even if you can’t,” Wilbur wipes away one of the tears running down his cheek.
“You’re my best friend, Tommy,” Wilbur urges, “You- You’re my little brother, I- I love you so much, okay?” Tommy just hums, leaning into Wilbur’s hand. “You also get me for the whole weekend, as well, Tom,” Wilbur jokes, smiling down at his brother, Tommy’s eyes widen, “Wh- Wait- What?” Wilbur just chuckles, “Your mum asked me to come up for the weekend.”
Tommy’s eyes light up, “Really?!” Wilbur laughs, pulling his brother back into the hug, “I’m happy to see you too, Toms,” he squeezes Tommy tightly for a moment and releases. “This is gonna be the best fucking weekend of your life, Wilbur Soot!” Tommy exclaims, crushing Wilbur in his arms, almost jumping into him. His older brother just laughs, “Yeah it will be.”