Chapter Text
The clouds parted, sunrays escaping through the cracks of the clouds. A beautiful rainbow hung overhead, the sound of students shuffling out through the gate of the school overwhelming Tommy's ears. His fist tightened on the paper, wrinkles forming as the paper crumpled up under the pressure of his hold. The red pen on the top of his work stated one thing loud and clear to him, mocking him from the page it was scrawled messily onto. Humiliating, utterly humiliating, the number reminded him of the kid that used to pull his hair during second grade and cut pieces off. Annoying.
'10%'
He marched toward the gate, the breeze flowing through his hair as wisps escaped and flew free. The paper crinkled into a ball, throwing it into the bin but missing on his way out. The park standing tall on the other side of the road, he could smell the petrichor from the grass wafting over to his nose, clenching his teeth as flashes of the day came back to him. Water booming down, trickling down the glass of the windows, and thunder roaring at every person who dared cross it. He tucked the loose hairs that fell in front of his face behind his ears, a heavy exhale escaping from his lips as he finally stopped at the house.
It was basic, a basic house for a basic family. There was the dad, the artsy one, the smart one, and the dumbass. It was like a sitcom setup, except he was the comic relief who everybody despised. He pounded his fist against the door, shaking at the force he rapped on the wood. Footsteps echoed through the house, shuffling quickly as the door threw itself open. A pen was resting on his ear, of course, he was writing again.
"You left your keys at home." Technoblade stated, refusing to move from his firm position at the door. Tommy rolled his eyes, a smirk replacing the scowl he had previously painting his face.
"No shit, sherlock. Why do you think I'm knocking on my own damn house door?" Tommy laughed, taking a step forward and pausing. He waited, he really did, waited for the muscly man to move. One hand was still on the doorknock of the open door, another resting against the doorframe, chest blocking the way inside. "Is this some primary shcool password shit or something?"
"Test." Technoblade said, raising an eyebrow, glaring holes into Tommy's very soul and exposing every little piece he tried desperately to keep hidden. Cracking him from the inside out, uncovering the secrets that laid at the depths of his mind. Tommy's heart practically pounced through his ears, the rhythm like a drum player on five energy drinks and a fuck load of crack. Too fast for his own good.
"Uh, what? You testing me or something?" He asked, crossing his arms and glancing back behind him. The footpath was empty, silent even. The sun still shone down, the warmth kissing the entire street, embracing the flowers that grew on their front lawn. A perfect setting for a crime to happen, in the open with no witnesses. The crime wouldn't be murder, no, it would be assault. Tommy had the urge to deck his brother right now, and there was nobody around to stop him too.
"You did your history test last week, the results should be back by now, where is it?" Technoblade demanded, Tommy, biting on his bottom lip and making a feeble attempt to shove his brother out the way. The man stayed in place, glued to the ground like a boulder. Tommy swiftly ducked under his arm, wriggling his way into the house and sprinting up the stairs. The call of Technoblade from downstairs, shouting, was muffled by the floor as he reached the top.
Fuck Technoblade and memorizing his test dates. The snitch would probably tell Phil.
He couldn't get in trouble if he never came down though.
He was missing dinner, hunger stirring in his stomach, body demanding he runs down the stairs and stuffs his face. He could hear the voices of his father at the table though and decided against it. He could afford to miss dinner once, missing one meal wouldn't kill him. As the night dragged on, the clock ticked even louder and louder with each passing minute. His stomach growled at him, begging for sustenance.
This wasn't the first time Tommy had skipped a meal, he didn't really know when the last time he ate was. Two days ago, possibly three? No, it was most definitely three. That's probably why it felt like he was being clawed alive right now, insides shoved apart and torn. He was shivering, body shaking, food.
He needed food.
He didn't want food though.
Tommy slipped out of his bed, stomping down the stairs. He didn't do it because he was hungry, he only gave in because the smell of steak lured him. Whispered to him in hushed tones to savor it, let it melt in his mouth, and get stuck all in his teeth. His father sat at the head of the table, immersed in a conversation with Technoblade who didn't even acknowledge his presence. Had he forgotten?
Somebody did acknowledge him though.
"Look who finally came out of his little cave." A mocking voice chuckled, Wilbur, pulling out the chair next to him. Tommy sat in the chair, looking at the plate that was left for him by his family. He picked up the fork and knife, aware that Wilbur was staring at him with an amused expression on his face. "I bet you were masturbating."
Tommy choked on his own saliva, and the table fell silent. Phil howled with laughter, banging his fist against the table. Not a good role model, in Tommy's totally humble opinion. Technoblade just shook his head, hiding his face in embarrassment even though he wasn't the one the comment was directed toward.
"What the fuck is wrong with you!? Dumbass. I'll stab you with the steak knife!" Tommy huffed, splitting his steak into small pieces and gazing at the plate in front of him for a moment. Hesitant, why was he hesitant? Nonetheless, he jabbed the fork into his piece of meat and let it absorb into his mouth. The conversation forming across the table between the family was tuned out by Tommy's own thoughts. It tasted amazing, he could practically hum at the feeling of meat entering his mouth. It also tasted wrong... He was doing something really wrong.
Tommy didn't need to eat that day, he was going fine without food. He was going to gain weight, his body would balloon up in size and he would be mocked for the rest of his life. His petite frame would become big, but not jacked like Technoblade, he would be compared to his brothers more and instead of picked first for sport like he always is he would be the last kid standing up against the wall. This one steak was going to kill him, outcast him, he was guilty of eating this. He wasn't allowed, his mind which previously begged for food screamed and screeched that he wasn't allowed. His body argued back though, shaky hands swallowing more pieces of meat. Shoving them down his throat, forcing himself to eat. It was going to kill him, everything was better before this.
He could live with water, he was being greedy. He just adored the piquant taste of it though, how was he going to stay thin if he couldn't stop shoving his face like a fatass just to taste the cooking of his father and the cream of pastries? Technoblade kept looking toward him, looking away quickly. He felt shivers run down his spine, Technoblade was going to tell Phil about his test scores and now maybe some shit about how he hates the food. Escape, he needed to escape. Dash, run, do anything he could.
Tommy had to evacuate.
Alarms rang through his head, greedy, fat, horrible, disgusting, wretched.
Before he knew it, dinner was over. Tommy was back in his room, staring at his phone with an absent mind. He survived, he lived to tell the tale. He felt bugs crawl up his body though, goosebumps forming, he was still such a fatass after that. Too much of a fatass, he couldn't... He was about to continue scrolling until he landed on one specific forum, a conversation started in it.
M0M0E: 'Making myself puke, lol. brb.'
AlexITT_DiG: 'haha, you go girl!'
He started typing, curiosity filling his entire body.
"Why would you do that?"
AlexITT_DiG: 'skinny, lol. still eat but lose weight, yk?'
"That's a thing??? Heh? u can eat but not get fat from it??????'
AlexITT_DiG: 'yuh. just puke the food.'
"How do I do that?"
M0M0E: 'bk. also, you just poke your finger or something down your throat, gag reflex, and vomit.'
"oh."
The forum the conversation was housed on was taken down the next day, but it was too late.
The damage had already been done.