Chapter Text
When Jim had become the Trollhunter, Toby had felt he was finally joining something special. Something interesting. Worthwhile. And it was something he got to do with his best friend. Claire joining their group had caused a rough patch. Jim obviously loved Claire and would do anything to impress her while Toby was just his best friend. And most of the time it was enough.
He knew Jim cared about him. That they were practically siblings. Yet the little green-eyes monster would still rear its head. It got better when he started dating Darci. But that little niggling feeling that he was never good enough for Jim. Never important enough. Not his priority. It didn’t go away. And when Jim turned into a half-troll and left with Claire; his worst fear came to pass. He was alone. Sure he had his wingman. Steve and Eli knew about it but they weren’t Jim. His Jimbo. His best friend. His brother.
The time travel hit Toby even harder. Claire and Jim had been together. They’d got to go with Steve. Steve for goodness sake. The new guy was one thing. Douxie was pretty cool and a powerful wizard. The sorcerer didn’t seem interested in taking Jim away from him again. But Toby still resented him a little. He’d been left out again. He’d been left alone again. He didn’t say anything despite feeling like someone had torn out his heart and ripped it to shreds. He thought maybe they’d notice. Maybe someone would care but there never seemed to be any time or attention. No one seemed to care about him. Toby was surrounded by friends and yet he was alone.
How could they keep abandoning him? How could they keep leaving him behind? His time with Jim had dwindled, replaced by Claire and Blinky. The girlfriend and father figure he’d always wanted. Toby might have his wingman, but in comparison it felt like little consolation. Even Merlin had called him chatty. How was he supposed to feel about that? He’d been the butt of jokes for years. Been fatty, chatty and loser for longer than he could remember. It made him feel useless. When he was alone, he’d think about how compared to the others he wasn’t anything special. No magic. No suit of armour. Mysterious monster weapons. Or being an alien genius. He was just Toby. Toby the Warhammer. A name he’d given himself because all he had was a magic hammer. That he could barely wield to the extent the others seemed to manage their weaponry.
Toby had never felt more alone than when he stood next to his friends. And watched them smile to each other, right over his head.