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Tommy knew his parents weren’t the best. He had been keenly aware of how nobody else in his class had to cook for themselves at a young age because their parents were never home. He also knew it could be much worse.
Sure he keeps burning most of his meals— half of which he doesn’t even eat, they're too overdone and he’s just generally done with it— and he’s pretty sure he’s been washing his clothes wrong the past couple of years, but it’s better than nothing. At least he has food, and a home, and sometimes his parents leave a note. It’s not the worst.
Until it is.
Tommy wakes up on a Tuesday feeling like death. His throat felt like sandpaper and his head was pounding to the tune of whatever beat kills teenagers. Normally he’d just skip school— one of the few pros of his parents not actually giving a shit— but he had a test in his literature class that he had actually studied for.
Studying wasn’t really something he did, but Mr Blade, his teacher, made the lessons actually interesting so he genuinely spent time reviewing the information. So he had to go to school, he needed to take and pass the test— need to prove that he was worth more than nothing at something .
So he got ready for school, ignoring how his body ached and his vision blurred when he moved too quickly. The bus ride, for all it’s worth, wasn’t completely terrible. Mostly because Tommy kind of zoned out for most of it.
When he finally got to school after what could have been either the longest or shortest bus ride in the world he made his way to the library. Typically, he’d hang out with Ranboo and Tubbo in the cafeteria until classes officially started but he seriously felt awful and even the slightest bit of human interaction would probably lead to his inevitable demise.
Wilbur, an upperclassman who tutored Tommy in geography last year but decided that the blonde was cool enough to stick around despite no longer getting paid, must have not got the memo about the whole death thing, because he sat down with a wide smile at the table Tommy had claimed. “Hey, king. You look like shit,” he said, before sipping coffee from a mug Tommy was sure was taken from the teacher’s lounge.
Wilbur’s dad was Tommy’s current history teacher and his mum was the principal so the absolute power he held was bonkers, positively crazy. Wilbur wasn’t an ass about his connections, he mostly just used them to steal coffee. “Yeah, not feeling too well. Got a test in the Blade’s class though,” Tommy answered, offering a weak smile to the brunette.
Wilbur hummed before leaning across the table and pressing the back of his hand to Tommy’s forehead. “You feel hot,” he noted shortly as if that meant absolutely anything to Tommy.
“Yeah, of course, I’m hot. It’s part of the Tommy Innes charm, ladies and men love me. I have so so many wives,” Tommy replied nonsensically, leaning his head on his hand to prop himself up.
“I think you should go to the nurse, although they might not be in yet. Uh– maybe you could go to the office, they’d probably call your parents for you.”
Tommy rolled his eyes, standing up entirely too quickly for his current state. “I’m good, big man. Completely fine! Gonna go to class now though, I’ve got Mr Halo and you know how he loves his punctuality,” Tommy said before the fuzzy bits on the edge of his vision overtook all of his sight and he felt himself falling.
Tommy wakes up for the second time on the very same Tuesday feeling like he fainted in the middle of his school library and probably should have just stayed in bed this morning. “Hey, mate,” Mr Craft greets from the other side of the nurse's office. Tommy must look extremely confused because the history teacher explains a bit. “You collapsed in the library in front of Wilbur and he was a little worried about you so I offered to come to look after you until the nurse gets here, seeing as I don’t have a class at the moment.”
The blonde boy just nods as if that makes sense at all. Sure, he had hung out with Wilbur quite a bit and maybe he had dinner with his family a few times, but that didn’t warrant any worry did it? Tommy’s own parents didn’t worry about him so why should Wilbur? “How are you feeling?” Mr Craft asks softly, a gentle smile gracing his features.
Fine , Tommy wants to say, should say. It’s better if nobody worries for or about him. “Like shit,” he actually says because he really wants someone to worry for him for once.
“Do you want me to call someone to pick you up?” And Tommy would love nothing more than for Mr Craft to call for him to be picked up and for someone to actually do it– for someone to actually care.
However, Tommy knows his parents wouldn’t even answer the phone so he shakes his head. “My parents are on a business trip.” It’s a lie but it seems to be the most simple way to handle this. Although the simplicity seems to melt away as Mr Craft frowns.
“Is that why you came to school today even though you felt like shit?” Mr Craft asks and Tommy poorly conceals his surprise at the man’s cursing.
Tommy shakes his head, his parents had such little effect on what he did with his life. (This is a lie.) “Had a test in the Blade’s class.”
Mr Craft stuttered for a second, stuck on Tommy’s reasoning. “You came to school so sick that you fainted when you stood up because of a test in Techno’s class? Mate, he would have let you make it up on another day,” the man reasoned– or at least tried to reason with Tommy.
“No you don’t– I just needed to do a good job,” Tommy said as if that explained everything even though it only served to further Mr Craft’s confusion. “I worked so fucking hard, you know? I don’t ever study but I did this time and I just– I needed to take the test and pass it and I just needed a reason for someone to be proud of me.”
Mr Craft’s demeanour cracked slightly a look of pity— of concern and maybe slight devastation— taking over his face. “Tommy, kid , I’m proud of you. I know you struggle a bit but you’ve been making a real effort this year, it’s incredibly admirable.” Tommy flushed, looking down in embarrassment. “You’re doing a good job,” Mr Craft says with so much conviction that Tommy has no choice but to believe him.
Later Mr Craft— Phil, as Tommy’s been told to call him out of school hours— will offer to let him stay over until he’s feeling better. Later Tommy will find himself curled up with Wilbur on the couch, fantasizing about the older being his brother. Later, when Tommy feels better, he will take– and pass the test. Later Tommy will celebrate with the Crafts— they’ll put his grade on the front of the fridge and he’ll smile so wide he cries.
As of now, Tommy is content enough with the encouragement from Mr Craft.