Work Text:
tommy let his backpack hit the ground, relief washing over him as weight got lifted from his shoulders.
usually he'd never just walk out of class, but it was now okay to do. he didn't care about his grades, what anyone would say, anything.
for the first time in a while, the boy wasn't stressed.
he let himself sigh as he sat down, knees to his chest. he eyes fluttered shut, air hitting his face and making his tangled hair messier. he listened to the waves crazh over and over again, his breathing matching the soft rhythm.
today was a good day, he thought. he made sure to do the dishes before leaving the house, he fed his dogs, too, and gave his classmate back the book she'd let him borrow months ago (he didn't damage it, either; he treated it as if it was the most precious thing in the world).
the only thing he didn't do was write a note, or text anyone for that matter. suicides notes are cheesy. what would he even say in one? 'hey, i kinda really hate myself and can't do this anymore. sorry.'? that'd be a shit letter.
and so he opted for acting as if it was just another day, and it was. he woke up, hated himself, did what he had to do, hated himself, and now he was sitting on the beach, hating himself. a good routine.
he opened his eyes, sunlight making him wince slightly. he untied his shoes and took them off, setting them beside his backpack; he then took his sweatshirt off and folding it neatly. (it was the one wilbur bought him. he almost felt bad for laying it on the sand.)
the blonde stood up, wiping the sand off his pants even though it didn't matter. he stretched and cracked his knuckles, walking towards the body of water. he stopped in his tracks once he felt his phone buzz, and despite his annoyance over having to put off his plan a little, he was glad he noticed his phone was still with him. it was an expensive phone, he wasn't about to drown with it.
reluctantly he checked the notification, frowning when he saw wilbur's name on the screen. the older man had texted him all day and tommy felt bad for ignoring him - he never ignored wilbur -, but he just didn't have it in him to talk to anyone.
wil
hey, can we talk for a sec? (9:31am)
youre still at college yea? text me when youre out (10:03am)
tommy? (12:00pm)
pick up your phone gremlin (12:30pm)
tommy, where are you? (1:00pm)
i texted your dad and he said you arent home, where are you? (1:17pm)
he knew if he didn't respond, wilbur would keep texting him, or hell even call him if he was half as worried as he seemed through text, maybe even track his phone if he was feeling quirky enough. he wouldn't put that possibility past him.
he decided to ease wilbur's worries with a simple text. nothing concerning, nothing suspicious. just a normal text to receive.
i'm going swimming, he wrote. then he walked back and put his phone on top of the sweatshirt, no more distractions about to keep him from doing what he needs to.
the water was cold as fuck, tommy noted, which sucked. he hated cold water, he couldn't bear to even take cold leaning normal temperature showers. he cringed at the contact but sucked it up, walking until he was waist deep in the water.
might as well actually swim a little, right? that way his body would get used to the temperature and would make things much easier. plus, he'd always been teased for not being athletic and swimming was a sport, wasn't it?
the blonde sucked in a breath and submerged himself, forcing himself to stay underwater for a while. he quickly came to the conclusion that he did not like swimming.
the more he swam, though, the more he got used to the water.
eventually he wasn't as cold anymore, although his shivering body could disagree. whatever, he wasn't feeling cold and that was all that mattered.
he was bummed about having to, you know, breath in and swallow salty-as-fuck water to drown. it would be a pain in the ass, but it's the least painful way to kill himself he could think of. he was never really good at dealing with pain, moreso emotional than physical, but still.
he shut his eyes again, letting himself sink.
it wasn't that bad. it was peaceful, actually. he wasn't too far gone (so he wouldn't risk getting eaten by a shark or some shit) and the water was holding him in almost a motherly way. he felt safe in the water's arms, as dumb as it sounded. he felt loved. he felt loved by something incapable of loving, and that might just be the saddest part of everything.
how long would it take for him to die? he didn't know what death was like. would it be quickly? he supposed drowning would be fast enough. he let some air bubbles out, and though it pained him to, he opened his eyes.
he couldn't see anything but the sun, and even that was hard to see considering he was sinking further.
his chest ached from holding his breaths in, so he breathed out slowly. he watched the air bubbles go up and then pop, trying his best to hopefully pass out from lack of oxygen so he'd die while unconscious - the idea of breathing water in and possibly trying to swim back up was a no-go to him.
he wondered if anyone would bother to go looking for him. his parents, sure, because he's their son. how long would it take for tubbo and ranboo to notice? the fans would probably think he's taking a mental health break and they wouldn't he too far off, technically.
he felt bad for not giving anyone any explanations, but it wasn't their problem. it was his and his alone. the last thing he wanted was for anyone to lie to him and tell him life is worth living. it isn't.
he closed his eyes again, head fuzzy. the water was warm.
—
if anyone else was at the beach, two pairs of footsteps would be seen and a loud splash would've been heard. they'd also see a brown haired man panicking around in the water and swimming around, shouting someone's name in desperation.
maybe wilbur did track tommy's phone, what of it? he'd done it before, though in much less... extreme situations. this was definitively not what he expected to be happening on a Thursday afternoon, but here he was, and he couldn't care less about whatever plans he had for today.
despite his eyes hurting, he forced himself to keep them open as he looked around for tommy. he couldn't have gone too far, the teenager wouldn't do any kind of sport for longer than give minutes unless it was for a video. he had to be somewhere, wilbur wasn't gonna search the whole fucking ocean but with every second that passed he felt like he might try.
eventually, he did find tommy. the relief he felt when he was the blonde boy didn't last, considering he was either dead or unconscious. wilbur hoped for the latter. he prayed for the latter. he doesn't believe in a God, but he prayed.
he wrapped his arms around the boy's waist and swam towards the surface, his chest hurting slightly from holding in his breath (he was prioritizing tommy now, whether his chest hurt or not was the lesser of his problems).
the younger boy had always been quite thin so swimming back to land with him wasn't a challenge, and wilbur was quite thankful he got to the sand quickly. he stood up with tommy in his arms, then carefully laying the teen down and sitting beside him.
"come on, tommy," he checked for a pulse, breathing heavily. he was about to burst into tears until he finally found it - it was weak, but it was there. he let out a shuddered breath and began to pump the boy's chest, taking turns between doing so and doing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
"please," he whispered to himself, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. he wasn't gonna lose tommy here, not like this and definitively not now. that was his little brother. that is his baby brother.
the blonde coughed up water, his body shaking as he sat up on a jump - he practically threw up water as he coughed, clearly in pain.
if anyone else was at the beach, they would've seen a brown haired man pull a blonde boy into a gentle hug, then shout at him in the same breath.
"what the fuck, tommy?" he let out; he wasn't angry, really. he was just scared - no, he's fucking terrified. he sniffled, a hand going in the boy's tangled golden hair, massaging his scalp; the other protectively wrapped around him, holding him close. "breathe, you- just breathe, don't talk. oh my god..."
it took the teen a few minutes to process what had just happened. in his head, he was recounting his steps, trying to figure out how wilbur managed to find him.
he told him he was going swimming! that was vague as fuck and could've meant nothing, how did he find where he was and how did he get there so quick? ('quick' being in between quotes, considering he lost s decent amount of time being unconscious.
on that train of thought, his mood dropped significantly when he realized he was alive. fucking hell, that's going to be fun to explain.
"how d'you fin' me?" tommy murmured, head resting on wilbur's shoulder. his breathing was still slow, but it was better than before.
"what do you think? i tracked your phone," wilbur said in a hush, not having it in him to be embarrassed for doing that. he was glad he did that, if anything.
tommy huffed at that. of course he did, why was he even surprised? the blonde weakly wrapped his arms around wilbur as well, burying his face into the crack of his neck and easing into his touch.
"you didn't have t'come."
"of course i did," the older man sighed out, softening his voice tone. "i wasn't gonna just... pretend like something wasn't happening. i just didn't- i should've- why? can you tell me why you tried to kill yourself?"
the teen stayed silent for a moment. "i don't wan' talk 'bout that."
wilbur nodded. that was a fair answer, he wasn't gonna act like he was chatty after his attempts. "that's fine, that's okay," he reassured, more to himself than to the boy. "i'm just... i'm glad i got here in time. i don't know what i'd do if i didn't."
"you'd deal," tommy hummed tiredly. "people die all the time, wil. s'not that big of a deal."
that broke wilbur's heart more than anything ever did. he wanted this so badly to be just acting for lore stream, but it wasn't. he'd just pulled the blonde out of the water after he attempted. it was real, and it was horrible.
"i'm sorry," he finally began. "i'm sorry you're in so much pain. but i would absolutely not deal, i can promise you that. you dying... that'd break me, tommy. when i said you're my best friend i meant it."
"being best friends with a kid is kinda embarrassing."
"but you're my kid," wilbur cut in, his voice breaking. "and- and meeting you might've been the best thing that's happened to me. i never talked about my actual family because they aren't my family, you are. you're my family, i can't lose you."
tommy closed his eyes, leaning against wilbur woth his full weight. "you're clingy."
wilbur would've laughed if the situation was difrerent. "stop it, tommy. i'm not gonna brush this off like it's a joke," he said sternly, though his voice was wrapped head-to-toe in care. "i mean that, too. you're all i have."
the teen tightened his grip on wilbur's shirt, now holding onto him for dear life. "i'm sorry."
the brown haired male shushed him gently, practically pulling the boy into his lap now. "you've gotten me through my worst days, i'm not gonna let you go through this alone, whether you like it or not," he whispered into the teen's hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead. the warmth and gentleness of the contact made tommy want to cry. "you're staying at my place for a little. i'm gonna have to tell your parents eventually, but for now i'm taking care of you."
the blonde let out a shaky breath, cuddling further into wilbur. he was shaking still, both from the cold water and having almost died. he sniffled, "m'tired, wil."
"i know, toms," wilbur rocked both himself and tommy back and forth slowly, refusing to let him go yet. "i know. i'm here, i'm not gonna leave you. don't leave me either, please."
the teenager hummed quietly. though he was upset his attempt failed, he didn't mind being in wilbur's arms. he was safe there, in his brother's arms. safer than he's ever been.