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When the sun rises, it is an indicator for most life to wake from its slumber and have the new day start, a new chapter, and a cleanse from yesterday's hardships and hurdles.
For some, however, it is time for their routinely snooze. For, animals that usually stay up during the blanket of darkness, and then snuggle up in their burrows for the day time. For humans, it is a signal for us to awake from our nightly adventures, and a beautiful start to our days of mindless rubbish.
It was hot this morning. The suns bright glare reflected off of the hearty pieces of armor around Tommy's body. The sleek iron almost blinding him every time he tried to turn his head to the side, or when he'd accidentally throw his gaze towards his garden tool. He hated being outside. Especially in this weather. It made him remember things he didn't want too.
It made him feel vulnerable, expendable.
The heat only reminded him of his mistakes, of the actions he committed under the hot suns gaze. He wondered for a moment, would the sun tell him off? Would it be angry that he ruined the peaceful, tranquil cycle this dumb SMP followed? Would it really blame him, of all people? Would even the sun, this ball of gas, blame him as well? He shook his head. No, he was sure the sun was already laughing at him as he towed the soil for his wheat. He's sure it had been laughing this whole time. He stopped.
The hoe in his hands felt heavier by the minute, as his thoughts continued to derail. He was tired. He hasn't slept in weeks. And no one seems to have noticed yet. He was being mocked, right in front of everyone. And no one seemed to care. He dropped the tool, and stood straight. His head turned to the bench. That wretched fucking bench. With that stupid jute box, and that dumb tree. He felt it all coming back in waves.
~~~~~
He does it for them. Everything he does is for them and this nation. For his friends, and for his family. Tommy took Tubbos hand into his. They were back. The soft music playing while the cicadas sang their own tune. Singing with their wings as the dusk colors began to bleed into the sky. The sun was waving its goodbye as the two brothers watched.
Tommy shifted his eyes towards him. Watching from his peripheral view. The shine on Tubbos suit, identical to the one he wore, made it a bit hard to keep his gaze, the shiny buttons and the bright colors slightly distracting him from Tubbos face. He shook his head, and closed his eyes to regain his focus, this time skipping past the outfit and to Tubbos actual face.
Tubbo was frowning.
Why was he frowning? Tommy fully turned his head towards his usually cheery companion and began to question him on why he looked so upset. Tubbo didn't answer. He asked again. This time louder. He was returned with silence. He shook his hand, and began to kick his foot. What was the issue? Did he not like the song? Did Tommy say something that made him upset??
Tommy turned to the music box deciding to change the scenery of the music, letting go of Tubbos hand, and pulling a different disc from his Ender chest, muttering to himself in frustration, talking about how Tubbo was always so annoying when it came to such small things. Of course he wasn't mad, he could never truly be angry at Tubbo. Tubbo was... well, Tubbo!
Yes, he'd sacrifice the world if it meant keeping him happy and safe. To keep them happy, he thought. He placed the new disc into the cube, and turned back, taking his best friends hand back into his. His hand was cold, and slimy.
Tommy took his focus to the setting sun, he watched the world before him. The darkness was nigh, and he looked on, as he saw his friends fight for their lives bellow him. And he watched, as blood splattered on to the dead dry grass. Hydrating the ground in the worst way possible. He heard the sounds coming from behind him as well. The sound of fire crackling, and TNT exploding. Loud laughs, curses, and screams for help as he kept his gaze strictly forward. His house was probably being grifted again. Nothing he couldn't rebuild.
His clothes were torn and tattered, his eyes felt heavy, his hair was full of knots and ticks. The smile in his face faltered for a moment as the song he loved so dearly began to hit his ears in a distorted tune. He shifted again towards Tubbo. His best friend, his brother. He smiled as his glazed eyes, and watched Tubbos limp, burned and scarred body fall in on itself and slide onto the grass bellow.
Crisp black suit, completely different from the one he first dawned, now covered in the blood and guts of his brother. His face was bright pink and burned to no return. Tommy could see the wide blisters and boils on the sides of his cheeks and mouth. Most of the front of his brown locks blown or charred off, just like his skin that began to peal at the edges of his burn wounds. Tommy watched his lifeless best friend with a small smile on his face. He squeezed his hand. They were together and that's all that mattered. They were back. They were happy. These were bumps in the road, Tommy knew they could over come again, bounce back like always. Simple. They just had each other anyways. So what's another couple of years alone?
They were strong, they've been through so much.
They've been through so.... much.
Tommy inhaled shakily, trying to fill his now rapidly tightening lungs with as much air as possible.
They have been, through so much.
For fucks sake. His smile dropped, he frantically looked around. Letting Tubbos hand slip his weak grasp. What was he doing? He shoved his hands into his matted hair, trying his best to weave his fingers through the rough patches. The sounds of war growing louder and louder. He tugged. He tugged long and fucking hard.
He tried his hardest to pull out strands, maybe even some of his scalp if he was lucky. He was willing to rip his brain out if that was even possible. Before he could stop himself he began to cry. Once one tear dropped another followed suit, making sure to leave their trail behind, his cheeks sticky and moist. He wailed in agony. The squeezing feeling in his lungs only moving towards his heart and throat, his stomach was churning and the need to vomit trickled up into his esophagus.
He scratched at his neck to allow air some sort of passage, begging his body to allow him to live and breath the ash infested oxygen. But it was hopeless. He'll die here. He's gonna die. He's going to fucking die. The wails and screams of the innocent were enough to make the poor boy shiver and writhe with emotion, yet somehow, the powerful turn a blind eye and continue sniffing their roses on the graves of those who's hearts were ripped out of their throats and stabbed over 216 times. He was a fool to think he ever had a chance in the first place.
~~~~~
The next time he saw Tubbo, he was with someone else. Tommy wasn't bothered. In fact he wasn't even phased. He had just returned from the most excruciating thing of his life, he had cheated and escaped death. And here he was sitting at a fucking desk inside a hotel he didn't even want anymore. He could only remember snippets of him and Dreams conversations before the incident occurred.
He shivered as he also began to remember his time within the void. He'd rather not think of it right now. He sat and watched from afar. Sitting at his spruce desk. He watched as Tubbo laughed without a care in the world. When Tommy saw his large eyes crinkle and spark with happiness it made him feel accomplished. Tubbo was happy. And that's all he could have ever asked for.
~~~~~
Slowly but surly the life Tommy had lived began to bleed itself back into normalcy, he began to go out more with his friends, he had visited L'manburg once or twice, and he even decided to except the fact that his life long best friend had gone off and married some amnesiac so that he could avoid taxes. To be honest, the three of them made a good trio, besides all the lovey dovey stuff and the once in a while argument, thing were finally flipping up TommyInnit. His future was being paved right in front of him, and he couldn't be.... Happier.
~~~~~
The nights haunt him like no other. Out of all the things TommyInnit fears the most, sleep is his number one enemy. The alarm that he was recommended setting by Puffy to get him back into a routine wasn't helping one bit.
The alarm was only a reminder of how much Tommy didn't sleep, of how much he missed out on, how much he can't do anymore. He was lifeless. His bright cheery heart that he wore so proudly on his sleeve was now shriveled and dried out. He was a husk of what he once was.
If he could, if he could just get out of bed, make one more life happier, make one more person smile. He'd given too much.
He'd ran dry. He'd sacrificed everything. And the one time. The one time he tries. The one time he tries to get better, to leave it all behind....
He dies.
And the cycle continues as he lays still. His mind had him trapped in this endless loop of forgetful days and horrifying nights. He barely remembered who he was. He felt like he was dying again. Slowly, the angle of death was taking a new piece of his soul day by day, night by night.
His mind is a haze, the sound of the clock drifting into the background, along with every other sound of the morning, muffled. He drifted. His mind was blank. Was this what Puffy talked about. Disassociating... was it? He closed his eyes. He could feel the hard lobs in the corner of his eyes, as he blinked the feelings of his depression away. His brain now taking him way back to the tower, the lava, the wooden bridge... He should've jumped that day. He truly... should've jumped any chance he had.
~~~~~
Recovery was something Tommy wasn't familiar with. For, everything he'd been through was just, brushed aside with something else, something bigger and more important, and that needed his attention asap. He took the sessions with Puffy to heart more often now.
The poor women couldn't catch a break and honestly Tommy felt bad. He felt as though he was worrying her more then he needed too, but she had volunteered to do this. He just had to remind himself that. The steps to a better life, a better mind... a better Tommy were being taken... and... it was slow and steady.
His sleep hadn't gotten any better, but he would find himself getting tired more often, being able to rest his eyes, and becoming comfortable to the darkness he'd see that would remind him of the void. He's been alone a lot recently as well. Deciding to focus on the hotel like he did before the incident. And plotting a way to get it back from Jack. In fact, he'd even bonded with Ranboo.. which to his surprise, wasn't all that bad of a guy.
He introduced Tommy to journaling, and told him how writing ones feelings can be a good coping mechanism. So, he tried it. The clock was beginning to strike 2AM and Tommy hadn't written a single sentence in his new journal. What was he supposed to write anyways? How he felt? That's some pussy shit if you ask him.
He signed and dropped his pen onto the paper... and instead of write, he began to draw.
He mindlessly drew Tubbo and Ranboo, the two of them in an embrace with Tubbo smiling happily. And while he was no artist, he couldn't help but smirk at the likeness he captured of Ranboo- with his very lanky, string bean built body, and comically large hands.
He wrote a small note at the side of the drawing.
Lesson one: Tubbo is happy, and you are no longer responsible for it
He paused.
Recovery was a marathon away. And he was so far... he was just learning how to stand.
The feeling of being embraced by love and laughter was a distant memory from the past, but it was also a goal for him in the future.
He wonders, will he allow his heart to heal, will he sew himself back together, will he be his own tailor.... or will he finally reach a clawed blood stained hand to his destiny. The lessons are something he follows, something he worships.
He's pressing his feet onto the hard wood floor trying to learn to balance, and maybe... just maybe... one day he will finally be able to run the way he used too.