Chapter Text
Sitting as an unsent comment, Tommy stared at what he had written: A complement for his favorite music creator's video, not for the song, but rather the art that accompanies it and how the emotions in each and every color, line, and portrayal of motion match with the song's flow perfectly. The two go hand and in hand and, in Tommy's eyes, simply cannot truly exist without the other.
He continues to stare... Getting lost within the anxiety that comes with sending messages like this. It's clear that the comment is written by someone who not only understands art, but is well versed in it's world as well. Someone who, although unrecognized by this world, stays within it's loving yet harsh grasp as if it was their lifeline. Someone who's entire life has been dedicated to art. Someone who...
Tommy quickly clicked the "comment" button, figuring it would be better to just... get it over with. Staring at the unsent comment would get him nowhere. Thinking about all the ways sending it could go wrong... was getting him nowhere. "I should be drawing," He mumbled quietly to himself. "I should be doing my best. I should be, I should be..." He trails off to himself before he perks up, picks up his pencil and eraser, and gets to work on the foundations of his next piece.
The sound of graphite marks being left on a previously blank piece of sketch paper as Tommy works on the various thumbnail sketches for his next piece is calming... A type of calming Tommy has found nothing able to match. Nothing able to beat the amount of comfort this sound awards him with every time he's struck with new inspiration. As he conveys emotion with each stroke of his hand, his mind slowly drifts off and cuts out noises meant to distract him from this moment of comfort. Tommy would gladly sit at his desk and draw using every hour of the day, however... A knock at his door startles the boy, as well as interrupts his moment of peace. His father's harsh voice sounds from the other side of his closed door, "Dinner's ready! Come down and eat before it gets cold." Tommy hears heavy footsteps slowly distance themselves from him as his Father leaves.
Tommy sighs deeply as he places his pencil carefully down on his desk, dreading the moment he has to stand. The moment he has to walk downstairs and have dinner with those in the family who don't quite support his choice of path. He stares at his drawings, the thumbnail sketches he's made, one after another... He stares for a whole minute before he pulls himself out of his chair and over to his door. He takes a breath before opening his door and making the trek downstairs to eat dinner.
Dinner was exactly what Tommy had suspected it would be: him staying silent while eating while the rest of his family spoke about things Tommy has no interest in. After his food was finished he tiredly excused himself back to his room, back to the comfort of his canvas. However, unlike he planned, Tommy didn't go back to his sketching, instead he decided to check a newly received notification from his second favorite pastime, YouTube. The notification isn't a video like Tommy had expected though, instead it's a reply to the comment he hesitantly sent. His nerves take the place of whatever peace he had before as he clicks on the notification to read the comment. It says it's from someone named "Wilbur Soot," Stupid name, Tommy thinks to himself before he even had read the reply yet.
The reply is semi-verbose, although is also straight to the point. "I'm glad someone sees the same thing I do!" are the words that catch Tommy's eye as he, at first, skims through the reply, opting to read the reply in its entirety instead. Whoever this "Wilbur Soot" guy was, it was clear that he had at least a large appreciation for the combination of art and music, if the way they worded their reply told Tommy anything. Tommy smiles as he turns on some lo-fi, turns it low enough so the sound his pencil makes can take precedence. It's not long before Tommy gets lost in his pencil, allowing his mind to drift off once more and the idle emotions he holds inside to flow through his hand and onto a much larger piece of paper.
Hours pass and Tommy has finished the main sketch of the piece, he smiles to himself proud of his work before he looks at the time: 2am. His mind idly shifts back to the reply from earlier. Deciding to check once more, another reply has been added from someone going by the name "Ph1LzA." Another one? He thinks to himself, confused as to why two people in the same day have replied to his comment.
Unlike the last reply, which was verbose yet to the point as if the writer was a poet or something, this reply is more... formal. More like what you would expect an Adult to write in reply to someone. However, the message is generally the same although it says one thing that stands out "I'm not quite an artist or a music composer, but I can feel the emotions the artists were trying to convey thanks to you pointing it out." Tommy smiles, his mood going from a mellow hatred for how his parents see his hobby to a soft gleeful chime as Tommy reads through the replies once more. He hesitates before writing a reply speaking to both Wilbur and Philza thanking them for their kind words, as well as a question Tommy reluctantly put at the end of the reply. "Do you two have Discord?"
Tommy wakes up in the morning and checks his phone to see Discord notifications from Philza and Wilbur, they seem to have been wondering when he'd wake up. He smiles gently, flipping himself over in bed so he's lying on his stomach, before he opens his phone and types into the chat <I just woke up, calm down dickheads>.
Wilbur Soot: <Come on Tommy, you slept for like 12 hours>
Ph1LzA: <It's fine mate, getting enough sleep is important>
TommyInnit: <Wilbur>
TommyInnit: <It's called beauty sleep>
Wilbur Soot: <It's also less time to talk to people who have normal sleep schedules>
Ph1LzA: <I don't think any of our sleep schedules can even be considered normal>
TommyInnit: <Yeah no>
Wilbur Soot: <Definitely not>
Tommy laughs quietly as to not alert his family that he's both awake and seemingly having a good time by himself, he would rather not have them interrupt his good mood at the moment.
Ph1LzA: <Tommy?>
TommyInnit: <?>
Ph1LzA: <I have a friend that wanted to meet you, although he is a bit shy and wanted me to ask first>
TommyInnit: <Just invite them already>
TommyInnit: <It's getting boring with just me and Wilbur being the only not polite as shit ones>
Wilbur Soot: <Hey!>
Wilbur Soot: <I'm not boring!>
TommyInnit: <Yeah sure>
Tommy stifles a giggle at him and Wilbur's short bickering session which have already begun to feel as if they were siblings... Not like they had just met the night before. Were relationships supposed to go this fast? Or was Wilbur the kind of sibling Tommy had always wanted? He isn't sure of the answer to either, so he decides to ignore it for now.
The next message is a generic, auto-generated welcome message to someone who's username is "Technoblade."
TommyInnit: <YOOO>
TommyInnit: <THAT USERNAME IS AWESOME MAN>
Technoblade: <Thanks>
Tommy smiles happily to himself, having no one else in the room to see just how happy he is to finally have some people to talk to. Should I mention that I'm an artist? He thinks to himself, having decided earlier not to mention it and instead play it off as if he was just an art enthusiast. After a short amount of thinking, he decides against it and instead waits to see if hobbies come up during conversation.
Wilbur Soot: <If Tommy ever annoys you, just let me know>
Wilbur Soot: <He's a bit loud>
Wilbur Soot: <He's also a child>
TommyInnit: <I am not a child>
TommyInnit: <I'm a big man>
Wilbur Soot: <Sure Tommy>
Ph1LzA: <Sorry about them Techno, they're a bit chaotic>
Technoblade: <It's fine Phil>
Technoblade: <It's been a while since I've had an actual conversation with another person>
Wilbur Soot: <No worries man!>
Wilbur Soot: <I'll refrain from my rambunctious behavior when talking to you>
Wilbur Soot: <And you only>
TommyInnit: <Hey! That's not fair!>
Technoblade: <Oh>
Technoblade: <Thank you then Wilbur>
Tommy chuckles to himself before letting out a short laugh, he sighs before he flips himself over once more as he flings his blanket off himself. The blanket hits the wall with a soft plap just barely audible to those in the room. He decides to send a quick message to the chat before he fully gets out of bed.
TommyInnit: <I'm going to be getting out of bed>
TommyInnit: <So I'll be AFK for a bit>
TommyInnit: <K?>
Wilbur Soot: <Ok Tommy!>
Wilbur Soot: <Took you long enough>
Ph1LzA: <Alright, talk to you in a bit mate>
Technoblade: <K>
Tommy places his phone down next to his pillow before swinging his legs over the side of the bed before standing. Tommy took a quick look around his mess of a room. His bed with hastily put on sheets fit snugly in the corner furthest from the door, a blanket now scrunched up on the side of the bed closest to the wall and his pillow resting at the bed's head. His desk which has an arsenal of art supplies littering it's top, as well as inside of the built-in drawers. The chair he got for his 10th birthday, his parents had said it cost around 100 US dollars (he still wonders why they paid in US dollars when they live in Britain, although that is a question that will probably never get answered), is sitting a bit aways from the desk after Tommy had pushed himself away from it after meeting the others. The only thing on his artist's mess of a desk that can even remotely be considered clean is his computer and keyboard, which he's taken surprisingly good care of. The floor of his room is partially covered in canvases, buckets of paint, paint brushes, pencils, pens, and a plethora of other art supplies that he wasn't using at the moment, and the rest is covered in clothing he refuses to put elsewhere. His floor, although wooden flooring, is barely visible underneath all of the things he has in his room. The walls in his room are purposefully white, as he requested himself. This was so he could eventually paint on his wall instead of a canvas.
He decides on actually wearing pants so if his parents walk in they don't mention it and instead mention the state his room is in, although that isn't all that much better. He also decides to change his shirt, as he had gotten paint on the one he was currently wearing and had forgotten to change clothing. Today, instead of his usual red t-shirt and whatever pants he had available (as well as sometimes socks if his feet get cold while he's painting), he's wearing an unusually white shirt, although it does have paint stains all over it... Courtesy of an artist he supposes.
Tommy, supposedly proud of his different choice of shirt today as to him it is usually his work shirt, walks over to his computer and sends a message into the chat the others have been talking in during his absence. <Ayup! I'm back!>