Chapter Text
It was 2:30 pm for Tommy, his parents had gone out for a "date." Which had made him gag at his parents who only laughed at his actions, as well as leaving him for the time being. Tommy arguing that he could take care of himself and he'd just order pizza if he ever got hungry or cook something that's easy and won't burn.
After waving his parents off from where they waved from the car, he watched as his parents drove around the corner is when he slammed the front door closed and locking it. He bolted upstairs towards his parents room and running into their connected bathroom, opening drawers and looking through them for a blade. A blade his father could have loosened from a razor? He did hear his father curse aloud from the bathroom when the man was shavings his face, the blade having came loose and cut his father's jaw.
Tommy looked through the trashcan for the broken blade but then cursed knowing today they all threw out the trash for the garbage disposal truck to throw out. He groaned in frustration as he rummaged more through his parents’ bathroom drawers, even through his mothers just to find anything he could slice his wrists open with.
He needed a blade, any blade! It didn’t matter, he needed it and it needed it now. He could feel the world bend, everything around him shrink and grow, as if the bathroom was breathing, watching his every move. It felt judgmental, whatever watching him was judging him for trying to seek a way out of their eyes. He hated it, almost punching the mirror when he accidentally looked up at it for a minute. He doesn’t want to see himself, he doesn’t want to look at any reflection of himself, not until his wrists were drenched in red and gaping.
He let out another breath of frustration, mixed with the shakiness of the need to cry.
Tommy ran out of his parents’ bathroom and began searching through clothe drawers, bed side table drawers, make up drawers. It didn’t matter, anything that opened he looked though it!
It wasn’t until he reached his father sock drawer and dug through it he saw the red corner of a glossy box. Curiosity struck him hard as he shoved the bundled socks aside he look at the box that was hidden by them.
Tommy’s jaw almost gaped as he stared down at the red box of cigarettes in his hand with the bold gold lettering that spelled “Marlboro.” Cigarettes? His parents don’t smoke, they never did! At least, that’s what he thought.
Maybe they did smoke but never told him, didn’t want to give him the burden of knowing that one of his parents smoked? Oh fuck, who cares? Not him, in fact. His new find drove him to try this new discovery, maybe it’ll be better then cutting?
No it won’t. You know that, its never going to replace cutting. You’ve been doing it, nothing will replace the first ever classic yet relaxing way of bringing yourself back into reality! You’re so stupid.
You should just hurry up and find that blade! You need it now then never! It was horrible when your parents found the blade on your night stand!
That’s because he left it there.
“Shut Up!” Tommy yelled, cracking his head to the side and letting out a small whistle. He shook his head and grumbled. “God.. it doesn’t matter. I’ll just try one.” He said quietly as he snapped his fingers on both of his hands with a clap of his hands.
“Oh shit! Right, I have a stream to do today with the gang!” He yelled and let out another whistle with a shake of his head. “Piss off tics. Ain’t no one like you!” He grumbled before snagging two cigarette sticks and running to his room, sliding across the wooded hallway before slipping and falling on his ass.
“Shit-!” He called out before getting up and practically tripping into his room. He placed the cigarette sticks on his dresser before sitting in his chair and switched on his computer to get to Twitch and JackBox to start streaming.
“Ok ok, click-a-lick. Click-a-lick? Hah! What?” He questioned himself as he joined a discord call that he was invited to by Tubbo, cracking his head to the side and letting out a small ‘ouh!’ before starting to suppress the stupid and sudden sets of tics. Just for today’s stream.
“Welcome back to the stream boys!” Tommy called out as he started the stream, having already greeted his friends and joined the jackbox code. “You guys ready to be fucked up by the one and only, Tommyinnit!?” Tommy yelled as his friends cackled and or laughed at his usual antics, never knowing how he nearly had a stupid panic attack over not finding a blade.
“Whatever Tommy, you’re so not gonna win tonight’s game!” Tubbo and Fundy called out, making Tommy do his iconic laugh. He eyes trailed back to his chat as they spammed something about a dresser that made him roll his eyes. ‘Dresser? There’s nothing on the dresser.’
It was calm until Phil called out along with Tubbo, “Tommy, why is my chat spamming something about a cigar on your dresser?” Philza spoke up along with Tubbo agreement of worry.
“What?” Tommy questioned with genuine confusion.
“A cigarette being on your dresser?” Tubbo spoke, having pulled up Tommy’s stream on Twitch.
Tommy once again raised his brow in utter confusion, there was a cigarette on his dresser? He didn’t have a cigarette on his dress- FUCK HE DID.
Tommy swirled his chair so quickly it pulled at his headphones and unplugged them. “SHit shit shit shit-!” He yelled as he practically tripped out of his rolling chair. Scurrying towards his dresser to grab the two cigarette sticks and run out of his room.
He could his his friend’s concerns over the computer speakers of his unplugged headphones. Cursing he ran out to the backyard and hid the two tobacco in a flower pot under the bunches of rose leaves.
He ran back into the house and towards his room, whose door was wide open, at least his parents weren’t home. He tripped against himself again and slid down the hallway with a loud ‘Fuck!’ and laughed aloud. Getting himself back up he shook his head, he knew that shit was caught on his camera. That was embarrassing as fuck, yet low and behold his friends saw it too. Having to hear their loud ass laughter from the computer speakers.
His head cracked to the side and he slightly punched the wall, he shook off the oncoming tics and cracked his knuckles, though the laughter coming from the speakers. He could tell they’re still gonna question him for having two cigarette sticks on his dresser.
He walked back into the room and sat in his chair, replugging in his headphones and sighs. “Stop laughing guys, that fall hurt like a bitch.” He hissed as he bend down to rub his ankle that had hit the damn door frame.
“Tommy, it was hilarious! We’re never gonna let you live that down! I hoped someone clipped that.” Tubbo’s laughter filled the chat along with others, which led to Tommy letting out a soft sigh of relief. Him being a dumbass dragged the cigarette question down.
“Yeah? Well, I hope no does, my dignity is on the line here.” Tommy let out a fake huff, looking down at his hand that was lightly punching into the palm of his other.
“Right, well, should we get back to the game? We all sat here laughing at Tommy falling in his hallway for like, 5 minutes.” Quackity’s voice spoke up and they had all agreed. Tommy looked over at his chat to find very little to no messages bringing up to cigarette on is dresser. Good. They don’t need to know. Tommy thought as he typed him his shitty yet totally hilarious answers for the prompt.
-
The game has ended, fucking finally. Tommy had also gotten a text from his parents that they’re gonna stay at a hotel for a while. That’s fine with him. Means he can actually smoke that cigarette outside without his parents being here to catch him and probably beat his ass bloody.
“Alright guys, I guess I’ll see you later.” Tommy called out as they bid me goodbye but then Phil asked him to talk to him in DM’s. Fucking Tubbo and Wilbur “OOOO’d” at him and said he was in trouble with dad.
Tommy rolled his eyes, but he was still a little scared. Phil is like a father figure, so getting n trouble with him is like getting in trouble with his actual parents. “Yeah sure Phil, I guess.”
Tommy mumbled as he was kicked out of the group call by Phil’s single call. He breathed in as he clicked accept.
“Tommy.”
“Phil…” He dragged out the word with a nervous chuckle.
“Mate. What was that thing earlier about a cigarette on your dresser? You even freaked out when you saw it.” Oh. So someone did still remember. And Phil sounded serious.
“Uh, it’s uh- my parents… they left it there..” Tommy answered, but I knew Phil didn’t believe that. My parents don't smoke.
‘Tommy, mate. Your parents don’t smoke. Even if they did, we would have smelled or seen it happen before. Who’s is it? Are you ok?” Phil started our serious before his voice started to lace itself in concern.
Tommy shook his head with a nervous smile across his lips. ‘Such a dad…’ He thought before letting out a light laugh. “Yes DAD, everything is fine here. Nothing bad is happening.” Tommy tried to play it off, didn’t want to show concern in his voice.
“Tommy, just… are you sure everything is ok over there? Nothing is truly wrong at home?” Phil asked again, the concern didn’t mask the fact that Phil wanted to ask more questions to the boy.
“Yes Dadza, I’m sure. If there was something wrong at home, I would have told you or Wil. I swear Phil! Everything A-Ok!” Tommy laughed off the nervousness in his veins, nothing was ok. His parents are just fine, its just the shitty voices since he was 12. Pieces of shit.
“...Ok. But if something is wrong, you know you can talk to me or Wil. Alright?” Yes, He dropped it.
“Yes Dadza. I know who to contact when something does wrong.”
“Ok then.. Goodbye. Take care Tommy, I’m serious.”
And that was it. That was the call. Tommy let out a deep exhale as he slanted in his chair. He looked won at his shaking hands as he scoffed. Fucking anxiety and that shitty, stupid talk with Phil.
He just cares for you, Tommy.
He knows he does. He knows people care for him outside the smp roleplay. He knows that they’re there for him anytime.
Yet you never ask for their help, you always wallow in your pain, your hurt. And never beg for help, you DON’T want help don’t you?
Of course he doesn’t want help, he doesn’t need such pity as help. Its disgusting. He gets so mad when people try to help him, like they’re trying to take control of what he’s making and make it into his own.
Tommy lets out a scoff at all the little voices in his head telling him both he should ask for help and just, hurt himself. Oh, he will. He did find that cigarette. He’ll smoke it in a second.
His head suddenly snapped towards the side painfully, making him hiss in pain at the crack in the side of his neck. He lets out a low seam of whistles as he stands from his chair to lead a hard punch against his wall, it was better then his monitor. That was expensive! He sighed as he looked towards the door, his parents won’t be home anytime soon now. Maybe he can smoke it now, more then later if his parents do bother to suddenly come home from their night out he supposed.
Y’know, maybe it’ll be MUCH better if you both drew blood and smoked, the euphoria would be amazing!
Yes! It will!
Maybe you should sneak into your parents alcohol! Imagine the amazement during that?
Tommy shook his head again as it threw itself towards the side again as he crack his knuckles. This is horrid, he should stop thinking like this. He really should!
….After finding an extra blade from somewhere.