Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sounds of a familiar box being opened rang out. Hands carefully roll the numbers on the pad until a soft click is heard, vanilla filling the air if only for a moment before something is pulled from a baggy, and the smell is quickly replaced.

Tommy grabs the grinder and starts twisting it, as another pair of hands cut open the dutches. 

Was smoking weed at their age a good idea? Probably not, but Tommy couldn’t find it in him to care and he’s willing to bet Purpled is the same. 

Now they weren’t idiots, their school uniforms were in his room, neatly folded so no smell could attach and cause suspicion, not that Tommy thought people paid that much attention to him but Purpled had insisted it be that way.

They were also up on the roof if that mattered. 

“Roll it.”

“Why do I gotta do it?”

“Cause I grinded it.”

Purpled huffs but compiles, rolling it as Tommy attempts to light the lighter, clicking his tongue when all he got was a false start.

“A dud?” 

“Mm, I swear there’s more in it, I haven’t smoked that much.”

“Say’s the guy who can’t survive without smoking at least twice a day”  

Tommy scoffs. “Hannah limited my intake after your incident.”

“Incident? That’s what we’re calling it?” Purpled tried his hand at lighting the lighter, giving him a smug look when he lights it on the first try, fuckin prick.

“You guys call mine an incident” 

“No,” Purpled lights the blunt and takes a puff. “We call it a situation ” 

He passes the blunt, Tommy inhales. 

“Why is mine a situation and yours an incident?”

Tommy exhales, Purpled takes it.

“Because mine ended there.”

“Mine’s ended!”

Tommy breathes in the smoke.

“Keep telling yourself that, plus I did it by accident.”

“Bullshit!”

Purpled huffs, smoke leaving his lips. “It was! You know my memory was foggy back then!”

“What are you, Ranboo?” Tommy takes the blunt.

“Fuck off!” 

They continue to smoke until Purpled’s timer goes off, and they’re forced to get up.

“There’s still some left.”

“Save it, that cost money”

“Bruh.” 

The clicking of a lock is heard and they return to Tommy’s room where they promptly got changed into their dumb uniforms, like, who decided that forest green was a good color?? And rose embroidery on the tie?- Actually, Tommy likes that part.

Purpled hid the box before tying his blazer around his waist. Out of all of them, Tommy is pretty sure that Hannah and Ranboo were the only ones who actually wore their uniforms correctly. Not that it mattered too much, the school was “supportive of student identity” so lots of kids don’t neatly wear the uniform.

They leave the room shortly after, heading down the stairs and through the garage, so Tommy can grab his skateboard, leaving with their bags on their backs.

“Are you sure you don’t want to ride with me?” Tommy raises an eyebrow, skating a little ahead of Purpled.

“I’m good, I’ve busted my ass far too many times.” 

“Can’t believe you’re a sports major and don’t know how to balance.” 

“I know how to balance! Your board is just bullshit.” 

“Are you two seriously arguing about this again?” Tommy stops in time before hitting Hannah, who suddenly appears with a deadpan expression. 

“We’re not arguing” Purpled sighs.

“Are too.” Tommy challenges.

“Don’t start this.”

“I think I will.” 

“Boys!” Hannah shouts exasperated and Tommy can’t help but laugh, earning him a swat from Hannah.

“Stop being a menace” Hannah glares half-heartedly.

“You’re literally asking the impossible from me, I was born a menace.” Tommy muses kicking off his skateboard, being content to just walk alongside them.

They chat randomly from there, Hannah about her new album for her music class, Purpled chatting about beating Eryn in a race, and Tommy complaining about the paint he had to clean up after Jack threw a paintball at Conner.

“Wait- why did you clean it up??” 

“Because I’m the one who gave him the paintball.”

Purpled snorts and Hannah giggles, glad to know they found amusement in Tommy’s unfair punishment, just because he gave it to Jack doesn’t mean he knew he was going to throw it! Bunch of bullshit if you asked him, that’s why Mr. Smajor was a wrong’un. 

By the time they made it to the bridge, they met up with Tubbo and Ranboo (Michael too who was currently tugging on Ranboo’s pant leg.) 

Purpled and Tubbo start arguing about something and Tommy just turns his attention to Michael who is being promptly ignored.

“Psst, Michael” He whisper-shouts and Michael looks over at him tilting his head.

He crouches down and sets down his skateboard to open his arms, which causes Michael to excitedly waddle towards him with his hands reaching out towards him. He picks him up, happily tossing him up in the air and catching him which caused some giggles.

“Aw look how cute you are in your uniform” He coos, his school has a daycare program for teen parents which means that kids are also susceptible to wearing a uniform.

“...-Tommy’s not apparently listening to us, Oi! Tommy!” Tubbo suddenly shouts though his ears had already picked up the first time he said his name.

“What? Are you guys done bickering?” He asks looking over at them.

Purpled shakes his head and steals his skateboard before walking ahead, leaving the others to have to catch up to him, not that they didn’t expect this, he did it every time. 

They didn’t expect Hannah to run and jump on Purpled’s back.

“ACK- ROSE!?” They go tumbling and Tubbo and him start cackling.

“They oktay?” Michael tilts his head.

“Yeah- yeah, they’re fine” Ranboo chuckles, moving to help them.

Hannah managed to convince Purpled to give her a piggyback ride after that so Ranboo was holding his skateboard as he held their child. Tommy took the lead this time, entertaining Michael as the others were talking behind him.

Finally, they arrive at their wonderful school, Esempi. 

Esempi, an academy for the gifted- and whatever else they wanted to add to those school documents he had to sign, it didn’t matter to him. Most of them are at this school for different curriculums, Tommy himself was here for art, Purpled forcing him to tag along after he was told he won a sports scholarship and needed to come here for it to matter. Hannah took up singing, he thinks she’s in fencing too but he wasn’t sure. Tubbo was here for coding and mechanics, he hacked the school with Billzo once and that was apparently the greatest day of his life (Not minding the fact that he gained several hours in community service for it.). Ranboo was here for theater, always going off on dramatic readings whenever he could for the hell of it. 

As they get closer to the gate, Ranboo takes Michael out of his hands to prepare to scan him in and all of them get in line to go through the metal detectors (prestigious schools’ man) he sees Purpled grab a bin and he — gently —tosses his bag into the bin along with Purpled’s bags, earning him a faux glare. He stuck out his tongue in response

After the metal detectors, Tommy fistbumps Purpled before leaving with Ranboo to the daycare to drop off Michael. He smiles when enters and sees Puffy directing the children to their seats so that the attendants can do roll call and she can leave, the duck and her ducklings some kids seem to joke. In fact, she was wearing the duck sweater that started the joke which made it more funny to him. 

Michael also seems to perk up upon seeing Puffy and immediately starts squirming out of Ranboo’s hands.

“Okay okay! Give me a moment Michael” They chuckled catching Puffy’s attention who quickly understood what was happening and laughed. 

“Hello! Ranboo, Tornado”  Puffy smiles and he finds that it reached her eyes.

“Tornado? When are you going to let that go?” He sighs and she snickers, finally taking Michael out of Ranboo’s hands. 

“When are you going to come back to therapy?” She gives him a leveled stare and he looks away.

“Um- Uh, would you look at the time! Bye Pu- Ms. Captain, have a nice day!” He quickly rushes out of the room with Ranboo left to quickly say goodbye before catching up to him.

“Really, Tommy?” Ranboo looks at him fixing their mask.

“I hate the topic of therapy, you know this Ranboo” He shakes his head ignoring the burning stare he was getting from the older.

“Why don’t you go back?” They ask seemingly fixing their uniform to distract themself. 

“Because I don’t have to, they deemed me fine, hell I haven’t used my 504 in months” He grumbles fixing the sleeves of his blazer.

“Do you think you're fine?” Ranboo asks and he stops walking, his hand still on the sleeve of his blazer and…if he were to pull the sleeves back…

He suddenly starts walking fast and Ranboo sighs, maybe they were expecting that reaction. 

Tommy quickly stops by his art class to drop off his skateboard, storing it in the teacher's office, who strangely wasn’t there. Ranboo pointed out that he was likely flirting with the botany teacher.

They make it to chemistry — strangely — on time, and they go to sit where they usually sit. Mr. Nought peeks from under the desk with a yawn and fixes his goggles — gogy — he snorts to himself and he can tell Ranboo knew what he was thinking because they let out a snicker.

That class went by pretty quickly despite what they were doing — ugh grams to kilograms make it end — and the rest of the day was pretty much a blur, history then math, then BSL, and then he was free to go to lunch, where he sits with the crew along with Tubbo’s little sister Lani. Eryn sometimes joins, like today. 

Tubbo and Lani were bickering, and Eryn was instigating as he always does when he’s here. Getting closer to the awning they were sitting under, he could hear them fighting over mac and cheese which was weird but nothing that would surprise him, last week's fight was about bees and rats.

“Okay but who actually likes Krafts?” Lani says, crossing her arms.

“Normal people!?” Tubbo argues back 

“Nah, Velveeta is where it's at” She states matter a factly 

Tommy can’t help but shake his head as he sighs.

“With all this talk about mac and cheese, is it safe to assume you guys did your homework that's due today?” And like he just started a race, the pair rushed to their bags which caused Eryn to grin.

“You’re too good at that, Mama Bear,” Eryn teases.

“Well I wouldn’t be so good at this if you’d stop instigating fights, problem child” He crosses his arms giving Eryn a –rightful– glare.

“You’re not helping your ‘mom’ accusations Toms” Hannah suddenly chimes in and he turns to see Purpled and Ranboo right next to her. 

He simply rolls his eyes, “Can’t be a mom if I don’t have one” He jokes which causes a plethora of reactions, but more specifically-

“You have a mom! Just because you don’t talk to her, doesn’t mean anything” Tubbo replies, much to the horror of the rest of the group

“Ah, but she doesn’t acknowledge me”

“Get good then”

“Well-” 

“Boys please!” Hannah suddenly shouts much to the said boys’ amusement.

They sit for the rest of lunch and just bully each other before the bell rings. He has home economics after lunch which was amusing to him considering he was cooking after lunch but whatever he ain’t complaining. He likes Ms. Nihachu, even if she scares him a bit.

They made eyeball pastries for Halloween once and hers were a bit too realistic for it to be a cake pop. Not to mention he overheard her telling Mr. Halo that they were made from the kids in the detention hall. He’d never seen Mr. Halo laugh that hard, stating that she could take Eryn if he landed in detention again. Must be nice seeing your own father throw you under the bus because Eryn was next to him when the teacher said that and all he heard that day was a loud sigh.

Anyway, he got off topic, after cooking, he got thrown into photography and video-making class where he sat with Sad-ist, she never quite explained where the name came from so he just marked it as one of the mysteries his friends had.

Suddenly Russ, their photography teacher, makes an announcement. He explains that Principle Foolish and his family are hosting an art event for all the art students (orchestra, drawing, dancing, theater, and chorus) where it’d be one collage with their art class and one collage by themselves, and if kids had two art classes (like him and Sad-ist) then they're required to do double the work, Which wasn’t hard but it was annoying. 

Last year if he were given this much work he would’ve attempted to drop out though he knew better than to try that again, he got thrown into therapy when he tried the first time.

They were free to do their work for the rest of the class period, not that Tommy had anything to do besides bother Sad-ist as she edited a video.

“Focus on your work, Thomas,” She says, pushing him away.

“But I’m done with my work,” He whines, “And I’m bored”

“Edit it some more then, always room for improvement” Sad-ist hums as she splices together some audio.

“Ugh, you sound like Ms.Captain” 

Sad-ist laughs, “I did spend three years in her psychology class, not counting the class I have with her now.”

The bell rang shortly after and Tommy quickly rushed to his English class, having been distracted talking with Sad-ist, his stuff had still been out. He made it just as the bell rang, Mr. Halo shot him a look as he slumped in a seat next to Eryn.

“This isn’t your track meet, you shouldn’t be running in the halls.” Mr. Halo chides though it wasn’t all that serious.

“Ah, but I’m not in track anymore.”

“Purpled says you are, he literally drags you there every other Saturday.” Eryn deadpans. “You kick me each time you see me.”

“Purpled can kiss my as-”

“Language!” Mr. Halo shouts, startling Jack who was asleep in the back. Safe to say Manifold fell out of his chair pretty quickly.

After a few laughs (And Tina helping him up) class starts and Tommy promptly spaces out as a boring voice reads out Fahrenheit 451, he isn’t sure why Mr. Halo played this for them, but if Manifold was anything to go off of, it’s a great sleep inducer.

After English ended, Tommy finally got to go to his art class, bumping into Sad-ist on the way there. They were both in the same art and animation class, Sad-ist in particular was more into digital art than Tommy’s painting.

Entering the classroom he sees Mr.Smajor snacking on some fruit snacks and sitting at their table are Crumb, Callahan, and Sniff, but Connor is missing.

“Sup, skater boy, Sad-ist,” Mr. Smajor says.

Tommy shakes his head amused, Sad-ist simply nods. They sat with their respective groups (Sad-ist sat with Wolfy, jokingly calling her a witch as per usual.) and Tommy sat next to Callahan. 

“Okay, if my loudest class would care to listen.” Mr. Smajor calls out.

“‘Aren’t we your smallest class??” A girl questions.

“Concerning, isn’t it?” Mr. Smajor throws away his gummy wrapper and gets up, leaning back against his desk.

“So, I’m sure some of you have already heard that we’re doing an art festival.” Smajor crosses his arms. “This is our first year doing this, so if this goes well, we’ll likely do this all the years after.” 

Mr. Smajor starts passing around a clipboard. “That is the signup sheet, every student has to do the collages but not every student is required to hang up their artwork.” 

The teacher then passes out two papers. “Of course, the group collage will be hung up. One paper is the requirements, don’t lose it. The second paper is a suggestion sheet for what our group collage could be about, that’s due tomorrow so we can vote on it.” 

Tommy gets handed the clipboard and he signs his name for his own booth, he’s participated in several art competitions and has even gotten money from it so he’s familiar with how to set up a booth. He hands the board to Crumb who is about to immediately pass it on before Tommy stops them.

“You should sign your name.” 

“Absolutely not-” 

“C’mon Crumbbbb” Sniff says, shaking them gently.

“My art isn’t good eno-”

“So?” Tommy chimes in. “I’ve submitted work I've hated and I still got first place, just because you think it's bad doesn’t mean that everyone else would.”

“But you're you!” Crumb huffs.

“Yeah and my mental health has been scraping the back burner since middle school, me being me doesn’t do anything to my art other than changing the style, it doesn’t affect the skill.” Tommy flicks their head.

“This is- fine!” Crumb hastily signs their name before passing it on. 

Callahan taps the table to get their attention, though Tommy regrets looking.

“Tommy Innit everyone, who can give advice but won’t take his advice” Callahan signs and Tommy gasps dramatically which leads to everyone at their table laughing.

“He’s right, didn’t you trash a pretty good painting because you “didn’t like the feel?” Mr. Smajor grins, collecting the extra papers.

“That’s not important” Tommy brushes him off.

“Uh huh,” Mr. Smajor returns to his desk. “Anyways, since this little event interrupts the flow of our class, you guys will get extra time for your midterms” Quite a few cheers emanate from the class. 

“Yeah yeah, you're lucky, Mx. Eret didn’t even give time for their theater kids.” Smajor chuckles and some kids who were also in theater groaned and booed. 

From there they were allowed to do whatever they wanted and they all immediately started playing Pictionary. Tommy wasn’t finished with his midterm but he was almost done anyway so it wasn’t much priority.

After the bell rung, Tommy quickly grabs his skateboard from Smajor’s office- 

“When did you put that there??” Mr. Smajor looks back and forth.

“When you were flirting with Mr. Solidarity” 

Smajor throws a paintbrush at him as he leaves the room. “What happened to respecting the art supplies?!” Tommy shouts over his shoulder.

“Out!” 

Tommy laughs as he catches up to Sad-ist who is shaking her head, semi-amused. They didn’t walk together for long as Sad-ist is a senior with a car and a license. (You know, Like a loser)

After Sad-ist leaves, he spots Puffy walking with the kids trailing after her in a line holding a colorful rope. He walks up and Michael lets go of the rope, throwing himself at him in a mix of excitement and tiredness with mumbles of gold.

“Hello, child.” Tommy picks him up, being careful with his skateboard.

“Hello to you, Tommy, where’s Ranboo?” Puffy raises her eyebrows and Tommy shrugs.

“I don’t know, theater kids have a hard time hearing the bell, did they fix the speakers in there?” Tommy shrugs.

“Nope, Foolish keeps forgetting. I’m going to hit him.” Puffy sighs, crossing her arms and shaking her head.

“Should you be threatening the principal?” 

“He’s my son. I can threaten him all I want, I brought him into this world.”

“Isn’t Foolish adopted???”

“eHH, Potato Tomato.” Puffy shrugs and that’s when Ranboo comes along, Tubbo trailing after, fiddling with something.

Tommy hands them their child before going to bother Tubbo, which immediately causes the boy to launch into tech talk that he doesn’t understand so he simply nods along.

They wait a little longer for Purpled, Hannah, and Lani before leaving. They all walked home, though he’s pretty sure Ranboo and Tubbo (along with Lani) willingly walked as he knew their parents could pick them up if they asked, they just didn’t.

Tommy skates a little in front of them, steadying the board as Michael insists on riding with him. “Ranboo, Hannah, did you get told about the art event/festival?” 

“Mhm, We got to make our own skits.” Ranboo stretches. “We’re allowed to work in pairs so I’ve been working with Freddie.” 

“Yeah, we have to make an album in my section.” Hannah sighs. “I’m actually working with Beau due to her having to choreograph a song, I decided to give her one of the ones I made.”

“Oh god, Beau’s is going to want to go shopping.” Tommy groans.

“Good luck with that one, Tommy.” Purpled pats his back.

For whatever reason, Beau always dragged him on any shopping trips she went on. It’s the most boring thing he’s ever experienced. The only joy he got from those trips was showing her absurd clothing and taking photos of her dancing for photography.

“Damn, the art kids get this event and what do we get Purpled?” Tubbo says woefully which causes Purpled to snort.

“Well you have the Tech competition that I know you’ve already been coding and building for with Billzo” Tubbo laughed at that “ And Eryn and I are currently betting on who's going to win sports week- speaking of which I know you’re probably going to be busy but do you have the time to go on some sprints with me Toms?”

“Sure, I’ll probably be taking photos for the photography booth I also have to do” He sighs.

“This is why I didn’t choose two curriculums.” Purpled puts his hands behind his head. “I stuck to my track and soccer.” 

“Mimimi- shut the fuck up.” 

“Watch your profanity.” Ranboo was flipping through his acting script, occasionally looking at Michael who was still holding onto his pant leg as he focused on balancing on the board.

“Yeah yeah,” Tommy grumbles.

They continue to chat about random things until they get to the bridge where Tubbo and Ranboo leave-

“Don’t forget your kid!”

“OOPS-” 

Tubbo shakes his head as Ranboo quickly walks back in shame to grab his kid before waving goodbye. 

“And then there were three” Hannah hums which caused a fond eye-roll from Purpled.

They walked for a little while as all three of them lived a little further than most. The conversation was mostly random, from rumors Tommy “overheard” to fights Purpled witnessed.

Tommy’s phone goes off suddenly but he pays it no mind, content with just chatting with Hannah and Purpled. That is until it kept going off repeatedly and all three of them stopped just because it was getting annoying.

“Sheesh, who the hell is spamming me” he grumbles pulling out his phone before freezing slightly at the chat that had been going off.

The Crows Nest 

-2:34 pm

Techno - Hey, I’ve got some plans

Kristin - Oh?

Techno - I’m planning to take a flight home, got a tournament around there.

Tommy froze completely at those words and Hannah quickly got behind him to read what he was reading, Purpled following suit.

Kristin - That’s great any specific time or date?

Phil - We can pick you up from the airport as well if it fits with our schedules, I might take some time off actually.

Techno : Maybe in a week? I’ve got to check the specific dates, but roughly around there.

Tommy couldn’t stomach any more than that, turning off his phone and almost falling off his board as he rushed off to the grass before vomiting, something he always did in high-stress situations. Purpled patted his back in understanding while Hannah looked away (she’d probably puke too if she saw)

Tommy thinks that the world is out to get him, he barely had any conversations with his family in the years he lived there at least not after his mother had gotten sick thanks to him, now what? He’s supposed to stay in a house with the rest of the Watson family? He wants to cry but instead, he’ll just continue to puke his guts out.

Chapter Text

The bile stood at the back of his throat, throwing up made his throat burn, (he didn’t know where he got the habit of vomiting under immediate stress but it was terrible nonetheless) he rubbed it barely registering the hand on his back or words being said, just the faint dripping in his ear — a dripping he knows he shouldn’t hear — and the sound of his uneven breaths. 

Sooner or later he’s able to ground himself, noting that the mumbling he faintly heard was Hannah rambling about anything and everything, a distraction, something to ground himself on — did Puffy teach her that? — while Purpled rubbed his back.

“Do you think whoever owns this lawn will be mad that I just vomited on it?” He finally manages to choke out through a hoarse throat.

Purpled lets out a snort at that “Eh, you’ve done more terrible things than puke on a poor sod's yard” Tommy chuckles at that and Hannah shakes her head.

There was a silent question playing on both their faces, a calming notion asking if he wanted to talk about it. He shakes his head at that, it’s nothing bad really, sure his relationship with his brother is strained at best but he could suck it up for the week or so that he’s here. 

“Welp there goes my lunch” He sighs already feeling the emptiness of his stomach (he knows he’s avoiding the topic) and Hannah sighs, knowing he was just avoiding his problems but it seems like he got a pass today.

“Only you would worry about food after stress vomiting” Hannah flicks his forehead, Tommy chuckles softly before shaking his head.

“We should probably continue on to our houses” Tommy grabs his skateboard.

Purpled sighs at those words, and Hannah groans. He feels bad, Purpled doesn’t have a good home life and Hannah is always alone at home — like him — so he sees where they're coming from but the last time Purpled didn’t return on time- well let's avoid that topic.

They start walking back again albeit a bit slower than usual. Sadly they make it to Hannah’s house and then Purpled’s, so now he’s alone and questioning if he wants to go home. The obvious answer is no but he’s pretty sure that all the times he skips out on going home, they’ll notice this one.

Begrudgingly, he starts to make his way home looking up at the sky and noticing the clouds starting to gray. He ignores the pit in his stomach that warns him that this is a problem he can’t swallow, that he couldn’t ignore it because he couldn’t paint a line that far ahead, that eventually, he would run out of paint, run out of time, and for that he was scared.

He finally makes it home when it looks like it’s about to storm. He saw the cars parked outside on the driveway, Kristin and Phil were home and that would explain the immediate responses in the chat, were they off today? But he hadn’t seen their cars when he left this morning. 

He brushes it off and pulls out the house keys from his messenger bag, sliding it in the lock and twisting, taking a breath for whatever he might experience walking into this house.

Chatter wasn’t what he was expecting, however, the two adults sat in the dining room (he wasn't sure when he last saw someone sit there) talking about, wouldn’t you know it, Techno’s visit.

Quietly, he opens the garage door and puts his skateboard away before sneakily climbing up the stairs to his room. He heads to his room door (the only one decorated) and enters it quietly, he doubts he can be heard now but he isn’t risking it. 

It was the same as it was this morning, messy blankets that probably had Henry (his cow plush) hidden somewhere in there, crumbled pieces of papers from failed drawings littered the floor around the bin, finished paintings lined his walls (only the ones he got awards from) along with posters from his favorite artists and games, His keyboard lied by the wall opposite his desk, dusty and unused (he isn’t sure when the last time he played piano was) now used for holding his pencils and boxes of paint. 

And of course, his weed box hidden in his desk under a false bottom Tubbo made for him.

He sets his bag down on his computer chair, before quickly changing out of his uniform, happily throwing his tie off before flopping himself on his bed. 

To put it shortly he felt terrible, he isn’t sure what emotion he was feeling but he knew that it was negative and unpleasant, he’s tempted to go do what he usually does when he’s upset but he could hear the thumping sounds of raining picking up so he doubts he could do that today (why did it always rain when he was upset? The world was out to get him) he just decided to bury himself in his work.

He pulls out the new English homework Mr. Halo gave out and pulls out his phone to record him reading the passage to send to Tubbo, then his math homework, then chemistry, eventually he gets all of it done except his photography homework, he doubts he will be able to take photos out in the rain without ruining the camera, though it appears to be clearing up soon.

He waited for maybe an hour before deciding to get up and change.

Unfortunately, before he can escape to the world outside, he hears someone walking up the stairs, and judging by the footsteps, it’s Phil. Sighing he waits until the man knocks on his door before getting up from his desk, and as expected a mismatched rhythm (that Wilbur might have complained about) knocks upon his door so he, unfortunately, gets up to open the door, Phil stands there awkwardly.

“Hey mate, um you read the group chat messages right?” Tommy knows where Techno’s awkwardness comes from. 

Tommy can’t bring himself to talk so he just nods. (Like usual)

“uh, do you want to come with me and your mother to pick him up?” Nope, nope, nope, that implies that he might have to sit in the back of the car with Techno , and he will absolutely not be doing that. 

Tommy shakes his head no, pointing at his school bag.

“That’s alright, are you going to be joining us for dinner later?” Phil looked about done with this conversation, a frown on his face. 

He briefly looks down at his Apple watch showing the time 4:20 — nice — before shrugging. Phil sighed, likely at his lack of verbal responses but he couldn’t really help it, his mouth wouldn’t move.

He heard a quiet alright before Phil walked off and he was alone again. ( w̶o̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶?̶ ) He closes his door and walks over to his closet to change. A simple red hoodie and beige cargo pants, his red converses as well.

He makes his way down the stairs taking care not to trip like he always does. He noticed Kristin in the kitchen and very obviously avoided her (she never cared anyway) before heading towards the door. He gets seen by Kristin when he is grabbing his skateboard, tensing when her eyes cast on his frame.

He knows she’s watching his movement and she knows that he’s noticed her, maybe he could talk to her? Work up the nerves to just tell her hi, but his body doesn’t move and he can feel the bile crawl up his throat, and god he just needs to go. 

He quickly leaves with only a short ‘bye’ to her which is more than what he usually says to her ( nothing ) he doesn’t mean to ignore her, to ignore the person he’s supposed to call mother, but every time he looks at her all he can feel is guilt and he can’t bring himself to speak.

Shaking off the sudden sickness, he gets on his skateboard. He didn’t care where he ended up, he was just going to take pictures of something — anything — and try to stay out as late as he possibly could.

So that’s what he does, he snaps photos of the mundane life around him, flowers by the crumbling sidewalk — they’re probably weeds —, the cloudy skies, his shoes on the skateboard, a dog and cat that looked like they were arguing, and two birds on a telephone wire.

Eventually, he found himself by the nearby shopping district and patted his pockets to check if he had his wallet on him, smiling when he did. Surely he could indulge in his notebook habit a little more today? Aimsey always said that material goods lead to a happier life, and then she argued with Tubbo about who would get Ranboo’s (imaginary) mansion if he died, that was fun.

He enters the bookstore and waves to whoever is working at the counter before immediately speed-walking to the arts and crafts section (listen just because he knows where it is by heart does not mean he has a problem) and starts looking through the sketchbooks — pretty or practical? — before grabbing just a regular black sketchbook and leaves- or well he intended to leave but another book caught his eye, he grabs it noting that it is a scrapbook, Sunflowers and what he thinks is forget-me-nots laced on the cover of it and for some reason, he felt as if he should take it, so he did (he doesn’t have a problem) he pays for both books and leaves the store.

He wanders the area for a bit longer, taking photos and just skating around before getting a phone call from none other than Beau.

“Hello?” 

“I seeeee youuuu~”

“If I didn’t check the caller ID, I’d probably be creeped out.” Tommy chuckles, looking around for his little stalker.

“I can see you looking around.” Beau giggles. “It’s kind of funny.” 

Tommy sighs and spots her at a nearby cafe, sipping on probably a latte. He hangs up the phone and walks over.

“Well if it isn’t one of the golden boys!” She grins and he sighs because gods he really can’t escape that dumb name.

“Yeah yeah, golden boy real mature of you, fellow musically member” She snorted at that and punched his shoulder 

“Ah, the infamous musically duo” She smiled and he noticed there was a smugness to it before laughing.

“Infamous? My my, what have we done to get such a title?” He puts his hand on his chest, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise and she snickers at the display of dramatics.

“We are responsible for most, if not all, of the rumors at school. They’re all true because we’ve got real sources but please we are anything but innocent” She rolls her eyes and Tommy struggles not to laugh.

“In our defense, Charlie did teach us how to eavesdrop and spread rumors more efficiently before he graduated, we had to put it to use” He puts on a cheeky smile of his own

“Of course, Now then what, pray tell, are you doing here?” He rolls his eyes at the sudden but expected question.

“Shopping for sketchbooks and just having a wander really, taking photos here and there” He shakes the camera that’s been around his neck for a while.

“Well, you’re in luck because I’m here and a pretty good model” He chuckles at that but she isn’t lying. Some of the photos on his camera’s hard drive are pictures of Beau dancing.

“You should go clothes shopping with me, get yourself a style” Beau suddenly says and he groans.

“You’re going to drag me around for hours” He whines. “And didn’t you go shopping the other day?!” 

“Yeah but I need some items for my performances, and it’s not hours, I time manage.” Beau stands up and grabs the keys.

“Plus, you dress like a raccoon, like I thought artists were good at designing. Not to even mention your hair.” 

“What’s wrong with my hair??”

“Anyways, you’re going shopping with me whether you like it or not.” 

So Beau drags him to her car and throws his skateboard into the back. 

“So~ Tommy, jump in the Cadillac-”

“ Stop.”

Tommy ignores her laughing as he gets in and they drive off to the mall where she continues to drag him around for a few hours as per usual. They wander through several shops and regrettably, he is having some fun, like showing Beau the most absurd pieces of clothing he’s seen, and Beau just looks mortified at the pure ugliness of some of them. (He found a Twin Towers shirt oh my god- where’s Schlatt-)

“How much money do you have now?” Beau suddenly asks and he knows exactly where this is going.

“You’re going to make me burn a hole in my wallet, how many clothes are you making me buy??” 

“You’re buying clothes for yourself until that empty closet of yours is filled.”

They get to a jewelry store and Beau insists that they get matching earrings. Tommy rarely wore earrings so chances that his piercings were semi-closed were high but he got them for her anyway. She then drags him to get a haircut  (he insists he pay instead and she agrees on the pretense that he keeps his hair semi-long) it gets cut a little below his chin and he hadn’t even realized that it was that long in the first place.

“I wish we could get matching tattoos” She suddenly sighs and he laughs at that.

“We can get them when we’re eighteen” he grins

“That better be a promise” She held out her pinky towards him and he hooked his own around it

“It’s a promise”

They enter an accessory shop and Beau promises that it’s the last shop they’re going to, he cheers. They jokingly try on hats (she doesn’t let him get a cowboy hat) and glasses, and while Beau looks around for a certain accessory Tommy secretly buys her a folding fan. A beige fan with gold linings swirling into some complicated design but it was beautiful nonetheless, it reminded him of her. It also came in a pretty box, (that he was tempted to keep) he makes sure she wasn’t looking and stores the gift in one of his bags. He'll probably make a drawing to give her with it, it’s the least he could do for her.

They leave the shopping district and head towards Beau’s car in silence — it’s a comfortable one — and he puts the bags in the back, making sure to sort them between his and hers, he jumps in the front seat and they leave.

They jam out to music, Beau’s music tastes is a mess, ranging from classical to pure screamo rock. He stares out the window at the sunset, smiling as he looks over at Beau who, after a while, notices his staring.

“What are you staring at dweeb?” He snorted and she laughed as well.

“Thank you” She seemed surprised at the sudden gratefulness. 

“Are you thanking me for buying you things? Because that wasn’t much” He shakes his head at that.

“No, but believe me it meant a lot, I’m talking about the entire day. You noticed I was distant, didn’t you?” she smiled at that and it was bittersweet. 

“I panicked when I saw you like that. If I'm going to be honest, you seemed so…sad or- upset and it just reminded me of…last summer…” she said the last part quietly and he understood why, god he was a wreck last summer.

She cast a glance toward him while at a red light, “You should wear short sleeves more often, especially this summer”

“Beau-”

“I know, I’ve seen the scars, I’ve heard bits and pieces of the story, I think you should embrace that part of you, I mean you fought a battle and won” Her hands tighten around the steer “...And for what it’s worth, I think your brave, you’re alive Thomas, and I think sometimes, you forget that”

Silence filled the car but it wasn’t awkward, just…calming as he took the time to soak in her words. (Though, a part of him argued that he didn’t win, not one bit.)

When they arrived at his house he quickly grabbed his things, made sure he had everything, and then looked over at her.

“You’re one of the reasons I stayed if that means anything” 

“It does” and she smiled and he smiled back, and he could breathe, and he knew that he wouldn’t feel like this in a few moments so he took it in before saying goodbye.

He quietly slipped into his house shortly after, trying to still the bags as he headed upstairs. He makes it to his room and sets his bags down before looking through his camera, he smiles at the pictures he managed to get of Beau before setting it down to charge. From there he sorted through his bags, hanging clothes in his barren closet that didn't seem to be so empty as he kept bringing outfits upon outfits. 

Eventually, everything was where it needed to be and he quickly got ready to go to bed cause Primes was shopping tiring. Though he wasn’t going to fall asleep anytime soon, he always had trouble in that regard. 

Sitting up, he contemplates two things. One, smoking to see if that relaxed him, or two, going on and painting the town. Literally, of course.

Now, some might call that second option “graffiti” but psh- Tommy calls it beautifying the town and that’s exactly what he plans to do tonight.

He quietly heads downstairs and looks down the hall where his parent's bedroom is. It also happened to be where the spare room he used as his art studio is, you know, where he wants to be. 

Sneaking there wasn’t too hard, his parents weren’t particularly light sleepers. He quietly walks down the hall and opens the art room door, grabs the duffle bag that laid next to it lightly, and very carefully carries it to the front door (God forbid the spray cans clink together) where he slips on his converses and leaves. He was wearing a hoodie and some joggers but he reckons he’ll be fine for now.

He walks for a while before deciding to get on the roofs — which was pretty easy — and just starts parkouring over said roofs, it was semi-difficult with the duffle bag but he was used to doing this sort of thing whenever he needed to deal with his emotions, good or bad it didn’t really matter to him. Plus, he finds that all the running preshakes the cans for him.

After a while of searching for a nice wall to paint on, he found one that wasn’t as wet and immediately got to work brainstorming for what to put.

Deciding on a willow tree but the leaves in different colors, reds, and blues, purples, and greens, just random colors to spray on.

He finished 2 hours later, he might have gone crazy with the details but hey, it looked alright. He spray paints his usual fake initials on the corner of the art before checking the time, 3:34 am. He decides to just snap a picture of the drawing and starts heading back to the house before it gets any later.

He makes him home and does the same thing he did when he left, bag in the paint room, shoes by the door, body in his room, a simple process that he blanked out on for the most part. He put his phone on the charger and got in the shower, he washed his hair (listen, Beau’s comment really confused him, what was wrong with his hair?!) and washed his face with a face wash Beau threw at him sometime during their shopping trip and cleans his ear piercings as well.

It was five when his alarm went off, he was obviously already up so he just settled for turning it off. He had already brushed his teeth so now he was checking if it was a uniform day once more — woo routine — it wasn’t and he also noted that it was a Friday.

He decides to put on the clothes Beau forced him to buy, just some long black cargo pants with a black sleeveless turtleneck and a red leather jacket (he’s got to match his converses, he didn’t get new shoes) he debates on whether or not to do something with his hair before deciding that, yeah he probably should before Beau gets on him for that as well.

He simply puts it in a low ponytail before heading down the stairs and slipping on his converses. Slipping into the garage he grabs his skateboard and messenger bag. 

He felt someone staring at him as he went to leave, he wondered if he had woken up his parents but he knew that he was quiet…right? Well despite that when he had turned around, Kristin had been standing by the corridor. Her face was hard to see with the hallway light being off, but he knew she could see his face. The sun was rising and their front door had window frames next to it, the curtains were pulled back from the previous day, this cast light on him, not a lot as the sun was still rising but it was enough to be able to see his face, and he didn’t like the sound of that.

They didn’t say anything to each other, of course, he was never going to be able to speak to her, he could never get his stupid mouth to move, to speak to her, it all fell short. It was stupid of him really, she’s the one who deserved to ignore him, he didn’t have a right to feel this way, how stupid of him. So stupid, stupid, stupid- he felt sick.

The sound of a notification coming from his phone was enough for him to look away and pull out his phone.

The Minors 

Purple guy: Tommy

Purple guy: Why are you still home

Purple guy: Do I need to get the spray bottle

Little Rose: Lmao, not you treating him like a cat

Tubster: Deserved 

RanCat: Thought I was the cat here?

GremlinInnit: Srry

GremlinInnit: Im up just doing smth 

RatzKing: Your lack of grammar wounds me

GremlinInnit: You want grammar? I’ll give you grammar, but best believe I’m checking your English homework, Lani.

Tubster: LMAO

RanCat: Oop 

RatzKing: UHHH-

Devil-boy has changed GremlinInnit to Mother Dearest

Little Rose: Fitting

Purple Guy: Yup

He looks up — ignoring what Eryn did — and sees Kristin walking into the kitchen and he takes it as his cue to leave. He exits his house and decides to go faster than normal due to him leaving the house a few minutes later than he usually leaves, pushing down the bile in his throat as he goes.

He eventually makes it to where Purpled and Hannah are waiting as per usual. They both looked surprised and he didn’t know why until he remembered that he wasn’t wearing his usual getup.

“See I was about to question what you were doing but now I’m questioning your outfit,” Purpled says and before he can answer Hannah suddenly shouts.

“AY! Tommy Innit has got style” She grins and Purpled snorts, he rolls his eyes in response.

“Beau bullied me into some basic self-care and style,” He said with a chuckle.

“Anyways, what got you held up?” Purpled asked and Tommy sighed, he was really hoping that he didn’t have to talk about it but of course, Purpled took notice.

They start walking as he explained, “Kristin, she was up for some reason” 

“Ah, I take it, it happened again,” Purpled asked and Hannah looked confused for a moment before it clicked.

“Yup” He sighed and Hannah shook her head

“I’m starting to think this is a bigger problem than you’re making it out to be,” Hannah said as she shot him a look.

“When doesn’t he do that exactly?” Purpled says and Tommy lets out an offended gasp

“I just don’t want to push my problems on you guys! You have enough to deal with” He tightens his hold on his skateboard and Hannah reaches over to take the board off of him.

“And yet you’d still help us with our problems in a heartbeat, let us help you,” Hannah says as she rubs the markings the skateboard caused.

“We’re here for you, can’t get rid of us that easily,” Purpled says with a grin, bumping him slightly.

He was going to say something but he heard Tubbo call out their names, Michael running circles around him. Ranboo waited patiently.

A week came and went, he could hear the quiet rustling early Saturday of his parents getting up to pick up the twins before he left out the front door. A club he had lied, in reality, he was meeting up with Deo and the rest of the gang at the boxing ring.

He needed to hit something, someone. He was frustrated and fighting was a bad habit from middle school when he had nothing to take his anger out on except Purpled’s bullies. Deo helped alleviate that stress with boxing and right now, he reallyyyy wants to punch something.

“Do you want to talk about it or..?” Deo asks, watching Tommy continually punch a punching bag.

“Leave the therapy to Ms. Captain.” 

“Okay-” 

He stayed there until the afternoon when he couldn’t ignore the questions of when he was coming home. 

Home.

A weird word that he never used to describe that house and if he had to refer to it like that. Then he didn’t want to go “home”.

Chapter Text

“En garde!” 

A blade gets put in the correct position.

“Prêts?” 

A pink-haired man takes a breath.

“Allez!”

The man was in a defensive position at the moment, frowning as his opponent hit a beat and aimed an attack. He manages to readjust his blade and break ground, parrying for a moment before he attempts to feint.

He’s practiced with this man more times than he can count, their score tied every time. He had the lead right now but as it stands, he’s going to lose today.

He gets hit with a flank and with that, it’s over.

“Touché!” 

The man grabs his towel from the bleachers and wipes his sweat before an arm is slung around his shoulder from his opponent.

“Oi! Techno, you were out of it today.” A very annoying man named Squid says, a smug look on his face. 

Techno gently pushes him off. “Just..distracted.” 

“You better not be during our championships.” Another chimes up, Fruit. Said man had just finished training with Illumina.

“I won’t be.” Techno huffs.

“Don’t you have a flight to catch, Techno?” Calvin, their coach and the man who was refereeing for them calls.

Techno checks his watch before grunting quietly, moving to grab his stuff and leave.

“Don’t slack on your training!” Calvin calls out and that’s the last thing he hears from them before the door closes. (He did not roll his eyes, you have no proof.) 

He was distracted though, he’d be returning to that house after…two and a half years. Thomas had just finished eighth grade back then, and he was still growing in height, was he taller now?

Did he hate him still?

He wouldn’t blame him after what he and…his twin did, but he hoped that the kid wouldn’t be too scared, or too upset.

That’s what he had been most worried about. If his kid brother still despised him, if he would still scamper away from him at the slightest movement.

To be honest, he doesn’t know why he asked his parents to let him stay. It’s not like he had a particularly happy childhood or loving parents (Though he knows they tried). Maybe it was the inner sap in him that wanted to see if they could be a family again.

He should probably put that feeling away less he gets accused of having emotions again.

The trip to the airport was uneventful and so was the waiting for his flight. He did get to see an old lady hit a security guard with her walker so that was slightly interesting.

When he does eventually get on his plane, he’s met with a Karen complaining about being in an aisle seat. He simply put his headphones in and ignored the screeching of the banshee.

The flight was pretty manageable for a flight from California to London and soon he was standing outside a London airport, waiting for his parents to pull up.

And sure enough, a dumb green sedan with its white stripes pulls up and he could see his parents in the front.

No sign of Thomas. 

They exchanged pleasantries though Techno was still as socially awkward as always so that was difficult. He then put his stuff in the trunk and got in the back.

“Sorry about Thomas not coming, he had a school club to attend.”  Phil spoke randomly, jolting him out his thoughts.

“On a Saturday?” He questions.

“Yeah, it’s not common but it happens, especially with the school he goes to.” His mum hums, adjusting the volume of the radio.

“School? Doesn’t he go to St. Charleston like me and Wil did?” Techno raises an eyebrow.

His mum gasps quietly. “Oh my, we didn’t tell you??”

“What?” Techno tilts his head.

“Thomas goes to Esempi Academy.” His dad hums, turning onto the turnpike.

“Esempi?? That one posh school that's incredibly hard to get into??” Techno raised both his eyebrows at that.

“Yup, it surprised both me and Phil when he showed us his acceptance letter.” His mom shakes her head. “For art..we hadn’t even known he could draw.”

Neither did he. To be fair, he didn’t spend a lot of time with the kid or in the house for that matter and on the rare occasion that he did stay at home, he had seen him coloring but most kids did, no?

The rest of the car ride was silent, whether it was awkward or not wasn’t something he decided to focus on. 

When they made it to the house, he just felt more nostalgic. The flowers were still decorating the front yard nicely, and the house was still gray. The cobblestone path was still the same, scuffed but still the same. 

He even tripped over it the same.

“Fricken steps, I swear they’re more uneven than last time.” He grumbles, ignoring his mother’s laughter.

When he went up the stairs to put his stuff in his old room he spotted a decorated door that was empty before he had left.

It had bubble letters of the initials T.I which..weird but there was also painted on stars, roses, and ribbon like paint strokes. It was all well done.

He was tempted to go inside to see how it was decorated but he decided against that. He wasn’t going to invade his privacy.

His room was surprisingly clean and free of dust for a room that hadn’t been used in a while.

“Thomas did that, I think,” Dadza says, placing his fencing gear in the corner. “He was making a lot of noise up here which was rare coming from him and I heard several doors opening.” 

“What time does he get home?” Techno asks, glancing back at the decorated door.

“Don’t know, Kristin has been texting him.” Dadza shrugs.

“Well, I guess she’s wishing he gets home soon.” Techno hums while secretly praying to any Greek god to make Thomas take longer getting home. His mental health would appreciate it.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Can’t I stay a little longer??” Tommy whines as Wisp tries to push him out of the lounge.

“No! Go home, Tommy” Wisp puts his hands on his hip.

“I don’t have a home! I have a house with people I don’t want to be with” Tommy huffs and crosses his arms.

“Suck it up, buttercup. You can’t ignore it forever and we can’t keep you here much longer.” Bitzel hums, ruffling his hair as he walks past.

“You can say that a little nicer,” Tommy grumbles.

“He’s right though, I’m sure your brothers are already home.” Deo hums, grabbing his keys. “C’mon, I don’t need another kidnapping allegation on my record.”

Tommy groans and drags his feet but follows regardless.

“Quite the shame I don’t have a Cadillac-”

“ Don’t. Beau already made that joke.” 

Deo laughs softly, getting into the car — it was a jeep — and fixing his sunglasses.

“How about I get you ice cream? Help you calm down a bit, yeah?” 

Tommy squints his eyes at him. “I’m not a child.” 

“Mhm.”

Tommy stares a little longer before slumping against his seat. “I want sprinkles.”

Deo smiles and pulls into a twisty treat.

After that, Deo takes him home and Tommy dreads the entire time there. After all, having to sit at a table with random people who were practically strangers isn’t exactly someone’s happy day.

The music on the radio wasn’t exactly helping.

“-cause why’d you have to kill my cat.” 

He suddenly moved forward and changed the station.

“Won’t fault you for that one.” Deo chuckles.

Tommy looks at the window. One brother coming home was enough for him. At least it was the nicer one coming home.

Deo slid his hand down the wheel and shuffled through the stations until he just simply turned the radio off, grumbling about ads and useless talking.

Tommy groans upon seeing his house come up. 

“Can you run me over and put me in a coma?” 

“Well, I could but then you’d miss out on your wonderful art fair and also make your school friends sad.” 

Tommy groans and moves to hit his head on the dashboard (Or well, tried to, Deo blocked him.), he turns his head towards Deo with a frown. 

“Deo-”

“Out.”

“But-”

“Don’t make me kick you, Tommy.”

Tommy uses Puppy Eyes!!

…It had no effect.

“Tommy Innit. Get your arse in the house.” 

Ah, well. He doesn’t want to risk Deo’s anger, because the man can punch. Hard. So he gets out of the car and stares at the dull gray house with its dumb plants and uneven walkway. 

“The readers are waiting.” 

“What-” 

“See ya! Call me if anything, don’t do drugs- oh wait” Deo smirks as Tommy flips him off.

Deo drives off after that and Tommy is left staring at the house.

He could theoretically run, but Deo had his location and he knew he couldn’t outrun the man (And turning off location was going to panic anyone who had it). So he decidedly ambled along the driveway, kicking one of the stones out of place as he’s always done, and very slowly unlocks and opens the door.

Tommy immediately heard chattering, something so…misplaced in a usually vacant house that had been oddly filled in the past few days.

Kristin noticed him first, smiling at him and all he did was wave before catching the nervous look of Techno.

“Hey, welcome back.” Phil had hummed. “How was your club thing?” 

Tommy makes a ‘eh’ motion with his hand

“What were you even doing?” Kristin chimes in and Tommy doesn’t really know how to answer that so he simply pointed to a random painting on the wall.

“Ah, should’ve known. Anyway, we’re going out to eat later.” Phil says as he shuffles something in his hand, were they playing a card game? 

Tommy nods and moves to leave before Kristin catches his attention, motioning to a chair next to her.

“Come play.” 

He blinked once or twice before quietly moving to the chair and sitting down, watching as his dad handed him uno cards. And oh. He is going to absolutely decimate them, he didn’t suffer playing with Quackity, Charlie, and Hannah for nothing. (He had to write on a blank paper “Uno” just so he didn’t have to pick up) 

It was his fifth time winning that Phil called him a cheater and his seventh when Techno subtly started glaring at him.

Kristin was on uno.

He had a +4, and though he could 100% do it to her, he instead placed down a wild card and chose the color she had. His streak needed to end so he could leave.

It was worth it, Kristin immediately cheered and Phil threw his cards down, getting even more vexed when he noticed the +4 Tommy had upon placing down his cards.

“You had a +4?!” 

Tommy smirks.

“You willingly helped her! You Hellion-”

Phil then laughs and Kristin joins in, Techno simply shaking his head.

A few hours go by and he gets stuffed into a car he hadn’t been in since his early middle school suspensions. He was glad that Techno was the only one who came home as he didn’t think he could stomach being squished between two people he wasn’t very close with.

Tommy simply distracted himself with his phone and stylus, doodling a small photo of whoever came into his head.

Purpled had sent him a meme earlier so he was who he decided to draw, using purple to do the outline cause why not?

He could feel a stare as he doodled away.

“..Do you mind if I ask who?” Techno mutters. And yes, Tommy did mind.

“A friend.” He had written above the drawing before erasing it and going back to drawing Purpled’s eyes.

Techno had raised an eyebrow, staring at the writing before it was erased but he hadn’t said anything and Tommy couldn't care less about what caught his attention.

Dinner was…okay? Phil carried the conversations and Techno was nice enough to order for him when he couldn’t speak to the waitress though there was a sort of tense atmosphere and he was like, eighty-eight percent sure that it was because he wasn’t speaking.

He didn’t really care all that much though, spending most of his time finishing his drawing and brainstorming ideas for his collages.

For his class collage in art, they chose space, which was generic but whatever, and Photography was equally as boring as they chose flowers. For space, he might just bring out his spray paints and some wooden bowls he bought and make one of those planet paintings. Flowers should have been easy with Kristin literally having a garden in the back but… 

(“Mommy?” 

“....get your father-” 

A woman collapses, crushing a row of sage.) 

He might as well find a flower field.

When they got home, Tommy immediately went to his room, not used to the sounds of another set of footsteps climbing up the stairs as well. But he figures that’s how it’s going to be for the rest of the Techno’s visit.

Hopefully, he won’t have to deal with him or his parents long.

Chapter Text

Techno was staying until the end of his tournament and a little longer apparently as the tournament had a bunch of mini ones that while optional Techno always did. 

Tommy has never seen a MM tournament but he now officially hates it.

That Sunday morning was the loudest morning he’d ever had. Upon stepping downstairs after waking up, he saw his dad making breakfast (Something he hadn’t done since the twins left) and his mother was tending to the flowers outside.

He had immediately slipped into his art room, happy to muffle the noise of whistling and snipping and replacing it with soft music and tarp crinkles.

Art was always an escape from the empty, filling up empty noise with at least something. He’s never had to muffle noise before, not Phil’s whistling, not Techno’s audiobooks. So he had to be loud, louder than he’d ever been.

That led to him playing Hannah’s music while he got out his spray paints. He had gotten up to open the window and set the canvas down on a table. He then grabs his bowls and plans where to put certain planets aiming to draw something in the middle. 

A woman, he decided, hair like a galaxy, skin like the void, and eyes like burning stars. She was the center of this universe, of this canvas.

He only managed to do the sketch before someone opened the room door. Techno had peeked his head in.

“Jesus, the fumes in here, shouldn’t you do spray painting outside?” Techno mutters, staying by the door.

Tommy points at the vent and opened window.

“I’m not counting that- seriously, how are you breathing?”

Tommy shrugs and Techno sighs in return, leaning against the doorway as his eyes sweep across the room.

His art room wasn’t anything special, just an old storage room that sat wasting away so he took over it. A litany of unfinished paintings sat along the walls on the floor, A few second place paintings from his booths, dirty paintbrushes, a few paint splatters, just simple things you’d find in an art room.

“What was this for?” Techno touches a painting of a lake, a few water lilies on it and a temple off in the distance.

Tommy motions at the ribbon attached to it.

“Well- yeah I see it won something but what did it win??”

“Your mom” Tommy signs to himself, earning a confused look before Tommy wrote on a piece of paper that it won second place in a nature competition. (He’s not that mature, okay?) 

“Was that sign language?” Techno tilts his head, Tommy nods.

“Boys!” 

Tommy hears his mother yell down the hall and Techno rubs the back of his head.

“Right, I was supposed to get you for breakfast.” Techno mutters.

Tommy puts his pencil down and stretches, hearing a few pops.

“That can’t be healthy.” Techno huffs.

All Tommy does is shrug and continue moving, heading to the kitchen and Techno trailing after.

They arrive at the dining room table and Tommy really can’t remember the last time they ate there.

“Thomas.” 

He lifts his head and looks at Phil who motions to his hands. 

“Wash your hands.”

Tommy looks down to see a familiar sight of paint on his hands, he moves to the sink and quickly washes his hands, ignoring the slight sting of his wrists and the faded stains of blood he knows is on the floor. 

He probably shouldn’t think too much about that. 

He had gotten used to not eating breakfast in the morning, so while the eggs and bacon were fine, he hadn’t eaten a lot. A bad habit, he knows, but not one that was leaving anytime soon.

When he was finally freed, he ran right back to his art room to draw in peace. 

That was until Techno asked to come in a little while later and just sorta..sat down next to him with a curious stare. As if he was testing to see if Tommy would scamper away as he used to.

Tommy was much too tired to play cat and mouse like back then.

He tilts his head.

“...sooo, Esempi, huh?” Techno states rather awkwardly and Tommy fights back a grimace for him.

He nods. 

“That schools pretty big, did you get lost on the first day?” Techno quietly asks.

Tour guides He writes on a piece of paper and shows him.

“Lucky, my college just told us good luck and handed us a paper with random numbers attached to classes.” Techno huffs. 

L

“Very mature.” Techno deadpans before continuing. “Do you have any friends, besides the one you drew?”

Several, unfortunately.

“Unfortunately?”

They just sorta appeared and wouldn’t leave me alone- Except for the one I drew, I bothered him.

Techno snorts. “I’m the same with my friends, can’t say I ever bothered any of them though.”

Techno seems to quietly contemplate something before asking the question. 

“...Do..do you speak to them?”

Tommy hums. Sometimes, though even if I didn’t they’d use BSL or ASL

“Why’d you learn, was it that big of a problem?” Techno tilts his head and Tommy nods. 

Took the class for my mute friend, ended up being useful

“I see, so uh, it was you who cleaned my room right?”

He did, went back and forth to get all the dust but he did. He still shrugs his shoulders anyways.  

Techno hums and fidgets with one of the stray paintbrushes on the floors.

“What did you do while we- I was gone?” 

Well, that was a loaded question, he’d been up to several things during the five years he was gone for.

( A sterile bathroom

 A razor blade that weighed a lot more than he thought it would.) 

..Yeah, he had been up to a lot so he makes a shrug once more, his addiction crying out for another hit…He isn’t sure which addiction it was. He subconsciously scratches his wrist before fixing his sleeves.

Techno had raised his eyebrow at that motion but didn’t say anything, simply getting up and ruffling his hair as he left. Both of them ignored the flinch that action brought.

He quietly finished his painting afterwards, debating if he wanted to smoke or not and deciding it’d be worth it. 

So, the moment he got to his room, he locked the door and moved to his desk. He takes the box out from the hidden bottom and places it down, moving to open a window and turning on the fan in the room.

From there it was simple learned motions, grinding, rolling, and lighting, taking a few puffs of it as he messed with a marble on his desk. He hated the taste of vanilla and yet the dutch tasted like it. Quackity gave him it wrong on purpose, he thinks the man is trying to get him to quit by raising the prices and not giving enough, that or he fell on hard times. (Though that’s unlikely.)

Music was playing from his record player and he could hear the sounds of several discord pings from his friends. They were chatting about random things until Ranboo started a discord call.

“Tommy!”

Ow. That’s way too loud, he’s gonna have to lower Tubbo’s volume.

“Turn on your camera.” Purpled hums, the sound of a ball hitting the wall ringing through.

Tommy does so, getting a groan from Eryn.

“Of course you’re getting baked.” 

“420 every day.” Tommy grins, taking another puff.

Purpled snorts. “Shut the fuck up, man.”

‘Shut shut shut- Tommy! Why did I just learn your brother was visiting???” Tubbo shouts and yep, lowering the volume even more.

“Uh, well, you see, I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, so uh, I didn’t mention anything…?” 

“Fuck that bullshit! Didn’t my aunt say you shouldn’t be self-sacrificing?!?”

“Well, yes, when I was in therapy but-” 

“But nothing, just because you left therapy-” Ranboo starts but is promptly cut off.

“I didn’t leave, I was excused.” Tommy huffs.

“Fine. Just because you were excused from therapy doesn’t mean you can just forget all of that.”

Tommy groans and lets his head hit the desk. “I’m too high for this.”

“You’ve only got a little, that’s barely enough to make you high.” Purpled scoffs.

A discord notification is heard.

“I mean, yeah but Hannah restricts my intake and I only smoked with you like, a week ago, so I’m not as used to it as I was.”

“I say you should stop in general,” Hannah grumbles suddenly, scaring Eryn in the process and making him fall.

“Where did you come from??” Eryn says, still gone from the camera view.

“Well you see, when a mommy and a daddy love-”

“Stopppp” Ranboo groans as dramatically as ever.

“ANYWAYS-” And Tubbo is once again too loud, is he not turning him down correctly?? “How’s the visit been?

Tommy sighs, leaning back against his computer chair. “Awkward? I mean, we haven’t seen each other for a good god knows how long.”

“And I take it you can’t talk to him?” Purpled huffs, like he knows everything about Tommy. ( Which, it wouldn’t be surprising if he did.)

“Nope, not even a peep.” 

“No surprise.” Hannah hums, spinning on her chair.

A discord noise rings out,

“Guys, do you want to play Minecraft?” Beau chimes up, typing something– maybe a sign.

“You seriously joined to ask-”

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah, okay, sure okay.” Tommy snorts and Purpled chuckles.

They play for a few hours on a Minecraft server that Tubbo pays for, it was modded and they were all currently at war, well- everyone except him, he’s just chillin' in his flower field and mooblooms. 

You’ll be okay, right? Purpled whispers to him in game as their friends bicker.

I don’t know, but I think so. Tommy whispers back, never one to make a promise.

Not since…

( “Not a word…” He mumbles listening to the dripping of the sink above or was that the IV?

“But-”

“Promise me..! Please- not a word..” 

“Okay..yeah..okay I promise..”

“But!-”

“Leave it be, just be glad we came when we did.”

“I- This is going against my jurisdiction” 

He remembers groggily mumbling ‘cope’ and the half-hearted glare he received.

Someone sighs, “Just keep your eyes open for me, okay?” 

He could do that- or well, he could try to do that but with the rain beating against the window making such a nice noise to sleep to, he couldn’t help it when his eyes began to droop.

“Hey, stay awake okay” He gets nudged

He thinks he responds but everything is a blur, he isn’t even sure who he is with, just blurry figures of purple, pink, and white.

“Tommy” A voice warns but it falls on deaf ears as thunder reverbs through the house.

“Tommy!” His eyes slowly start closing once more.

“...-ommy!”)

“Tommy! Earth to Tommy!” Tubbo’s voice started ringing in his ear, and thunder suddenly sounded.

“Did he dissociate?”

“Ah- no, I’m- I’m still here, sorry..” Tommy mutters, shaking himself out of his stupor. 

“Cool, I’m entrapping you in obsidian.” Eryn grins, ignoring his hesitation.

He likes Eryn’s lack of tact, makes him glad the kid doesn’t look at him like a kicked puppy.

“That’s very rude of you.” Tommy chuckles, taking another puff of his joint.

“What’s very rude is you smoking in my presence.” Hannah chimes in.

“Mh, I don’t know, smoking is pretty cool” Purpled jokes but stated it matter of factly.

“It’s not.”

“It is!”

“Nuh uh.” 

“Yuh huh” 

“Nuh uh.” 

His friends were dumb sometimes, kind, but chaotic.

His wrist started itching sometime as they were playing but scratching will only irritate the wounds there.

Tommy pulls back his sleeves, a few old scars laid there as well as a few recent ones from when he almost relapsed. He says almost because he technically stopped himself when he realized what he was doing, it didn’t change the fact that he had to bandage it but yeah.

They play for a while as Tommy slowly gets high. It allowed him to ignore the fact that his brother was in the house across the hall, that his parents were in their room for once.

The idea that his parents were actually here stained his hands black for a moment but when he blinked, it was gone.

This was going to be a long few weeks.

Chapter Text

Techno was trying to be nice and considerate.

Tommy could see it in his everyday actions. He could also see how Techno wanted to talk about before. About the gray house of their childhood and the empty halls and missing parents. He especially notes that Techno wants to talk about what happened between them. 

But Tommy doesn’t have the mental stability for those questions so he’s purposely ignoring any attempts Techno has made.

Like today, for instance, Techno had attempted to slowly start it, as awkward as can be, and Tommy decided that today was the day to find that flower field for photography!

There were a few community gardens he visited to take photos of but he wanted wildflowers instead of perfectly placed roses and peonies.

He didn’t end up finding a flower field, which was annoying, but he figured he’d find one later. Instead, he returned back to that house and headed to his art room, continuing to paint the space girl and ignoring the three other projects he had to do.

One was his midterm which he almost scrapped because he couldn’t get the faces right on it but he didn’t because, at that point, it’d be a waste of paint and money. 

The second was his third project, it was the collage he had to do by himself with a minimum of six photos or more with his own topic…you know, the topic he can’t come up with.

This led to his last project he pushed aside because he was having the same problem, the collage for his art class that he had to do by himself with five or more paintings, drawings or even simple sketches also lacked a topic.

And no matter how many ideas he conjured up, none of them stuck as something he wanted to do and even if he did something he didn’t necessarily want to do, he would just run out of inspiration as always. 

Overall, this led to him bothering Mr. Smajor after school about topics.

“I don’t know kid, what’s important to you?” Smajor asks, leaning back against his chair.

“Sleep that I’m not getting because of this,” Tommy grumbles, going to slam his head on the teacher's desk before being stopped by said teacher’s hand.

“While I’m sure Mr. Nought would agree, I don’t think ‘sleep’ would be a good topic to draw…or take photos of for that matter.”

“I don’t know, I think a collage of Mr. Nought sleeping in class would be a good thing to submit.”

Mr. Smajor simply smiled and pushed his head up until Tommy was forced to sit up straight. “Listen, Thomas-”

“Ew, don’t full government name me” 

“Ugh, Tommy you can’t keep pushing things away like this and I’m not just talking about art projects.’

Tommy was silent for a moment before finally catching on to what he was saying.

“You don’t mean-”

“I’m talking about your brother” 

Tommy groans, throwing his head back in a pout before looking at Smajor who had an unimpressed look on his face.

“Who told you?”

“No one, I just overheard Tobias ranting to poor Ranboo about you keeping secrets and brothers and well, I know your history with brothers so it wasn’t hard to put together what exactly was going on.” Smajor smirks.

Tommy had told Smajor the bare minimum of his…childhood with his so-called brothers, not enough for Smajor to report it to Puffy but enough for the man to paint a rough picture of it.

“I..he’s only here for a few weeks, and then he’s going.” Tommy mumbles. “He won’t be here for long.”

“It still affects you though, does it not?” Scott tilts his head, his tone almost patronizing but he knows he means well.

Scott cared more than his parents ever have so he’s a little biased toward him but he can tell that Scott is actually worried for him, even if he’s asking school-mandated questions.

Scott was the reason he made friends with Tubbo, why he gave a second chance to Ranboo, and why he said hello to Hannah.

Scott was who he saw when he thought of the word dad . (Even if he’d never admit that up front.)

So Tommy couldn’t say he was surprised that he started questioning him in the first place.

“I think I’d be lying if I said it didn’t affect me and you know that. I don’t know, I guess I don’t know how I feel..” He huffs, messing with his hands.

Smajor’s eyes soften. “I see, have you had any..” Panic attacks go unsaid for some reason. It’s not like no one was aware that he had a 504 at some point.

“No.” Tommy rubs his wrists. “Purpled seems to be waiting for one and Hannah pretends that nothing is wrong but I’ve caught her glancing…I think she’s waiting too.” 

“Kid-”

“I’m not a kid.”

“..I know.” Smajor hummed softly and Tommy didn’t have it in him to say anything to that sentiment. “But, you do this thing where the worst thing could happen to you and you pretend like it didn’t even happen or that it didn’t matter.” 

“I-”

“You can’t say you don’t because you’re doing it now and you did it back then.” Smajor sighs. “Listen, the longer you ignore this…issue with your brothers, the worse you’re going to get…and I’m afraid you’re to do something reckless.”

( The sound of running water, of a phone going straight to voicemail. 

…was this all the time he really had?)

Tommy adverts his eyes, scratching his wrist and being promptly stopped when Smajor gently takes his hand in his.

“If…if it gets too much, you know where to go and that I’m only a phone call away.” Smajor smiled ruefully. “Don’t give up yet, kid, I still want to see you graduate.”

Tommy nodded and took his leave, still topicless and a lot heavier than he had been in a long while. It probably didn’t help that Purpled was waiting to drag him to an impromptu track meet happening today.

Both boys never liked having track after school because they hated leaving Hannah alone, especially when she was already alone 90% of the time. Luckily, Rose was sleeping over at Beau’s house to go over albums and dances.

Purpled and Eryn were waiting for him when he entered the track field. They were clearly arguing about something.

“I would’ve scored if you just passed the ball correctly!” Eryn huffs. 

“Oh? Did you have two people attempting to get the ball from you? I don’t think so.” Purpled deadpanned and Tommy finally figured out that they were talking about their home game from last night.

“Why are you two arguing about a match you won?” Tommy asks, putting his bag and skateboard on the bleachers. 

“Because Purpled sucks at passing a soccer ball” Eryn crosses his arms.

“I’ll pass the ball into your nuts next time if you keep this up.” Purpled glares thought Tommy could tell it wasn’t serious. 

“Can you two..not.” Aimsey chimed in suddenly, causing Eryn to jump.

“Gah! Where did you come from??” Eryn clutched his chest and Purpled snickered.

“My mother.” Aimsey deadpanned before turning to Tommy. “How have you been, king?”

Tommy went to speak before his vocal cords failed him and made no sound. Shame really, he thought he was on speaking terms with Aimsey already.

“ I’ve been okay, what are you doing here?” Tommy signs and it takes Aimsey a few minutes to understand, not as well versed in sign language as his other friends.

“Oh! I’m taking photos for my collage! Which I take you’re struggling on.”

Tommy sighs and hangs his head.

“Ha. L.” Aimsey grins before turning and grabbing their camera and running off to bother one of their track friends, rambling something about dark eyebrows. 

The coach, Scar, calls for them to start their sprints and Tommy begrudgingly lets himself get dragged by Purpled as Eryn immediately takes to running. 

He wasn’t slow by any means, he just simply didn’t want to run today (Or at all but Purpled won’t let him quit track.) He’s pretty sure he just spaced out the entire meet because next thing he knew, he was sitting on the bleachers drinking from Purpled’s water bottle as everyone prepared to leave.

And slowly, everyone trickled out until it was just him and Purpled.

“You’re spiraling,” Purpled says, staring at him.

Tommy doesn’t say anything, leaning back into the bleachers until he slides slightly into the crevasse of it, hoping he’ll melt away.

But Purpled’s gaze doesn’t let up and Tommy knew that this purple-wearing idiot wouldn’t let up with this, even if he knew Tommy was going to avoid it. Purpled always wins in the end. 

“I don’t think so..” Tommy quite pathetically mutters. 

“Tommy-”

Tommy cuts him off. “Quite frankly, I’m doing fine, flying steady.”

“Tommy-” 

“And honestly you don’t need to worry so much about nothing-”

“ Thomas!” 

“ Don’t call me that.” Tommy snarls before crossing his arms and very angrily stares at the sun. (Which, bad idea really)

“Then fucking listen and stop trying to push away this conversation.” Purpled huffs, and when Tommy didn’t make a sign that he was listening, started rustling in his bag before grabbing something and dragging Tommy. 

“C’mon.” 

He didn’t fight it, he knew where they were going, and sure enough, they ended up lying down on the football field, staring at the clouds that passed by. He’s then handed something and upon actually looking at the item, snorts.

“A weed pen? I thought you hated these.” Tommy hums, taking a hit.

“I do, but they’re easier to hide and I’m not tryna get the actual good stuff taken, shits expensive.” Purpled grumbles, grabbing the pen from him and doing the same.

“Quackity is still raising his prices?” 

“Unfortunately, I truly think he’s trying to make us stop.”

“A futile attempt.”

“Yup.” 

They remain silent, passing the pen until it dies.

Tommy breathes, cannabis, exhales, smoke , and he sees Purpled do the same with what’s left in the pen. 

“So?” Purpled finally speaks up.

“So…” Tommy trails before finally giving in to his oh-so-important emotional conversation even though he knows Purpled and emotions don’t bode well. 

“I know I’m spiraling, I just don’t know why. Nothing has happened.” Tommy sighs, covering his eyes.

“Wouldn’t that be the reason? You’re waiting, right? For the moment he ridicules you again, for the moment he ruins something.” Purpled puts the pen away. “And the longer it takes, the more afraid you become.” 

“Since when did you get good at feelings?”

“Since I had to put up with you for five and a half years.”

Tommy falls silent for a moment before letting a quiet admission fall from his lips. “..Maybe I should go back to therapy..” 

“That’s a severe understatement.” Purpled mumbles, earning a light hit to his arm.

Maybe he’ll be okay, he couldn’t guarantee that fact but…maybe he’ll be fine.

When he got home, he quickly rushed to his art room and grabbed his spray paints. Today has been too emotionally charged for his liking and what better way to deal with that than graffeting the local community.

After collecting what he needed, he rushed off to find a wall, climbing fire escapes and jumping across roof gaps. He only ever realizes how athletic he is when he does things like this.

He manages to find a nice little area and sets his spray paints down, checking the cans to make sure they are fine before grabbing a few and creating random swirls with red and black. He didn’t exactly know what he was aiming for but the swirls sorta looked like spider legs so he just created one. 

After he was done, he spray painted his initials T.I.

“Woah! That’s so cool!” 

Tommy jumps in his skin, dropping one of the spray cans he had before turning around. A child was standing there, with black tufts of hair and red eyes, he looked roughly about Michael’s age. Why a kid that young was out and about this late without a guardian was lost on him.

“Thank you.” He signs subconsciously.

The kid tilts his head and makes the same motion. “What does that mean?” 

Tommy sighs and pats his person before finding a little notepad in his pant pocket. He finds a pencil attached luckily and writes Thank you. 

The child seemed to struggle to read for a moment before smiling. “You’re welcome!”

The kid then fumbles with his hand. “Can you not speak?”

Tommy shakes his head.

“Oh, well, my name is Shroud!” The kid– Shroud, grins.

Tommy writes his own name and Shroud sounds it out for a moment before smiling.

“Nice to meet you, Tommy! I-” A shout cuts the kid off. “..Oh, I have to go now..”

Tommy hums and grabs his bag.

“Will I see you again?” Shroud asks.

Tommy shrugs in response. While he did aim for more low-income areas to graffiti as there was a low chance he’d get caught, he doesn’t necessarily frequent the same area.

Shroud pouts but nods. “That’s fine! I think we will!” The kid then runs off before Tommy can question his faith in that statement.

Well, it’s not like it mattered, he needed to get back before his parents questioned things that he really didn’t want to play charades to answer.

So, he slings his bag and himself over a building and makes his way home.

Chapter Text

Techno was out today, his parents working. It was quiet, it was numbing.

Really, he should’ve expected it to be, at some point, they would leave but he had been under the impression that Techno would continue to pester him as he’s always done throughout the week.

When had his ego gotten that big? As a matter of fact, when did he start to care about whether they stayed or not? It’s not like they were around beforehand, his parents were just here for Techno anyway.

That thought made him strangely bitter.

His parents were only here for Techno, only here for his tournaments, and then Phil would go back to working several hours and Kristin would do the same.

At least Techno was trying to make amends, even if he might be doing it to ease the guilt that he left Tommy spiraling.

His wrists itch, more so than usual and his head hurts. His wrist was only itching to itch but his head was likely pounding because he hadn’t smoked enough.

Not much he can do but stockpile the little amount Quackity gave him and hope that it’ll be enough. (It wouldn’t be.) 

Then, his wrists started itching more than usual and it was starting to get annoying so he scratched at it. It still itches and at this point, he was debating if peeling off his skin would be too much.

He kept scratching and scratching before he finally looked down and froze.

Blood was seeping out of his skin, staining his fingers. 

Shit.

He quickly rushed to the bathroom sink and attempted to wash off his arm of the blood as he quickly dug through the cabinets for his first-aid kit. 

From there, he quickly wraps his arm up and slides down to the floor. 

They won’t think he relapsed…right? It was just an accident, his wrist was just being annoyingly itchy. But…if they accuse him then…Hannah might freak out and Purpled might yell–and Purpled gets aggressive when he yells.

Ah shit, he’s got to hide this. 

It’s not too hard to do in theory, he’s done it before and he wasn’t caught until summer so he’ll be fine.

Though, he feels guilty doing this…It’s not like he actually relapsed! It was an accident! A mistake- but it’s not like they would believe him if he told them that, rarely did they believe him about his mental health, and while he admitted he needed to go back to therapy, he’s not exactly keen on going back anytime soon.

So, he’s just going to hide it and not think about it anymore.

That was easier said than done.

He kept fumbling with the sleeves of his jacket all throughout his classes. He couldn’t even get work done in art, fumbling with his tie so much that Callahan hit him and told him to chill. 

Eventually, Mr. Smajor pulled him aside and started a twenty-question because of course he did.

“Panic attack?”

Tommy shakes his head.

“Soon?”

He shrugs.

“Okay…uh, do you want to talk about it?” Scott asks, sitting down at his desk and Tommy frowns.

“You don’t have to do that.” Tommy signs.

“What? Talk to you?” Scott raises an eyebrow.

“No. Make yourself smaller, I’m not going to run.”

“You used to.” 

Tommy didn’t have anything to say to that. It wasn’t his fault that for a while, he was afraid of adults. Most of the ones in life yelled at him and the others ignored him so why wouldn’t he be afraid?

Tommy rubs his wrist.

“That wasn’t a jab, Tommy, just an observation.” Scott goes to take his hand, Tommy jerks it away. “...do you not want to be touched?” 

Tommy shook his head and looked away from him.

He didn’t want to see that look of pity on his face, everyone always looked at him like that even if they said they cared.

“Tommy, can you look at me?”

He begrudgingly looks at him and..honestly, he couldn’t read that look but it must’ve– had to be equivalent to pity. That’s how adults always looked at him, angry, pity, like he was a nuisance. 

It happened like that in middle school, when school counselors had sat him down in those dull office rooms with a coloring page in front of him and questions on why he was so violent. 

Those teachers knew his name, called him by it with every snide comment that followed it.

“Thomas, can’t you do better?” 

“Thomas, you’ll waste your life like this.” 

As if they actually cared for him that far, because if they did, they’d know he hated being called Thomas- loathed it actually because that name reminded him of hospital trips and butterscotch candy and old guitar music that lamented a mother unknown. 

A death he almost caused. 

He wasn’t breathing, he thinks, his breath felt short.

To be honest, to whom? He doesn’t know, but surely he was being dramatic? Nothing has happened, he simply fell too deep in his head and thought about a mother who was still alive and at home- or work, he wasn’t sure.

A hand grips him, a person’s name is shouted and a door swings open- it wasn’t his name shouted, that much he knows, too long to be his. 

His ears hurt actually and for a moment, he felt like he was going to throw up– actually, scratch that, he was throwing up, a trash can beneath him in a moment, and the sight of a familiar white sweater and a yellow one. 

He was being told to breathe–maybe? They’re telling him something but he just felt lightheaded and nauseous and..hungry, but that was likely because he threw up with nothing in his stomach…ouch. 

Oh, well, at least he gets to sleep for a while, he was struggling to do that for a little while. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What the hell happened??” Ponk, the medical professional and doctor they have here teaching the medical program, asked.

Scott sighs, carving his hand through his hair. “I- I don’t know? He was fidgeting in my class- pulling at his sleeves, his tie– I had asked him what was wrong and he answered for a moment and then…nothing, I lost him.” 

Puffy walked over fixing the hem of her yellow duck sweater before moving to push Tommy’s sleeves up, frowning at the bandages there. “Ponk-”

“Scratch marks, not..not that, it’s likely that the skin was irritating him and he scratched it too much. Skin like that is sensitive, easy to break.” Ponk reassured, as they fumbled with their prosthetic, eyes far away as they looked at Tommy like they were seeing something no one else could.

“Is that why he was fidgeting?” Scott asked, sitting on a nearby chair.

“Yeah, most likely.” Ponk hums, snapping back into the conversation before moving to sort through files, his prosthetic arm clicking every once in a while. “I understand that his parents have a few days off? Should I call them?” 

“Eh, I know it’s mandatory but it’ll probably make it worse. He doesn’t talk to them.” Scott mutters, his hand moving on its own to run his fingers through Tommy’s hair which was looking a bit more healthy as the days went by. Maybe Beau influenced that, he remembers Tommy playfully ranting about her sometimes, about long mall trips and a promised tattoo.

Puffy seemed to make a connection quietly before turning to them from where she had been pacing.

“Wait- doesn’t talk-” Puffy frowns. “I was under the impression that him being silent some days was on purpose , I don’t get to interact with him much anymore, is the vocal thing a problem?” 

“Mh, sometimes? He mostly talks to all the kids in my class, some days he won’t though but I’m not sure if it’s because he can’t or if he just doesn’t want to. The files we got from his middle school said he was uncooperative and unresponsive.” Scott chimes up.

“I’ve heard Aimsey say that they were trying to get Tommy to speak with them? Something about wanting to be worthy?” Ponk tilts his head.

Was this a bigger issue than they thought it was?

They’re quiet for a moment before a random voice chimes up. “Put him back in therapy, I’ll mandate it.” 

Foolish, the principle, was by the door, staring at Tommy. “Oh, and don’t call his parents, they’re not his emergency contact so it doesn’t matter.” 

“Wait- who’s his emergency contact?” Scott raises an eyebrow, and Foolish makes a zipper motion by his lips.

“You’ll see when they arrive.” 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Waking up in the nurse's office was…fun? Annoying? Maybe more fun? He’s not thinking about anything, so that likely makes it fun and although it’s been a while since he’s been in the clinic, at least he’s by his favorite window!

And! When he went to look around, he wasn’t surrounded by his…family…fuck.

Deo was staring down at him, a deadpan look on his face. “You know, when I was called to pick you up because of a panic attack, I would expect you to be conscious.” 

Tommy blinks. “To be fair….I’m rarely ever conscious after a panic attack.”

Deo sighs and Wisp starts snickering in the corner.

“Ah, both parents are here.” Tommy hums, letting himself drape off the bed and slide to the floor. “I can’t feel my bones.’

“Wha-” Deo just…stares with confusion? Maybe regret?

“Don’t mind that, I gave him some pills to calm down his panic attack so he’s probably still feeling loopy.” Ponk suddenly says.

“Noted– should I just..” Wisp trails off before leaning down and picking him up.

“Weee” Tommy peeks over his shoulder and Deo sighs. 

That’s how Tommy ends up in the back of a jeep, completely out of it on Wisp’s lap. 

“Why do I have to sit here with him?” Wisp grumbles, attempting to sit him up.

“Because he’s a danger to himself and I don’t trust you enough to drive my car.” Deo huffs, making a turn.

“Where are we going?” Tommy asks, head sliding off of Wisp’s lap before being tugged back.

“To your house-”

“Noooo” Tommy whines. “I don’t like that place.” 

Deo peers over from the rearview mirror. “Why don’t you like it?” 

“It’s cold– desolate–lonely–what other words can I use?” Tommy murmurs.

“Dreary?” Wisp offers.

“Yeah! That, especially the kitchen.” Tommy mutters, messing with Wisp’s jacket and being promptly smacked away.

“What’s wrong with the kitchen?” Wisp raises an eyebrow.

Tommy mumbles something neither of them could understand.

Deo turns on the road to Tommy’s neighborhood. “Repeat that?” 

“Because it’s where I almost dieddd.” Tommy drawls, ignorant to the bomb he dropped but Wisp was as he’s sent forward by Deo abruptly breaking. 

“WHAT-” 

“Hold on– explain.” Wisp pokes at Tommy’s cheek.

“Can’tt” Tommy giggled– giggled! As if he didn’t say one of the most concerning things ever??

“Why not.” Deo says, parking the car and turning in his seat to look at him. 

“Becaaussee, only three!-- three!! People are supposed to know” Tommy hums– declares really and Deo has the hold back the urge to hit him.

“Who knows?” Wisp asks, distracting the urge for a moment.

“Papurpleeeddd anddd HaNahhh” Tommy drawls, dragging out every word because apparently he’s that out of it, the fuck did they give him? He doesn’t even act like this when he’s high as a kite. 

He sure as hell doesn’t give out secrets so willy-nilly.

“Of course they know…” Deo grumbles mostly to himself. “Who’s the last one”

“I can’t tell you that!” Tommy shouts before whispering. “Issa secret~” 

“What- why??” Wisp shook him, albeit lightly, maybe to keep him up.

“Becausee they can get in troubleee— so much trouble!” 

“Why, were they the reason you were dying?” 

“No!” Tommy whines. “I was!” 

The silence was deafening, and it only took a moment for the two men to put two and two together.

“Tommy..” Deo hesitates for a moment. “Did…did you..try to kill yourself?” 

Tommy only frowned in return.

Chapter Text

Tommy is officially an idiot.

Everyone is free to clap and laugh and do whatever else when someone mocks someone else like the universe does him.

He, honest to prime, hates himself– how could he let it slip! It shouldn’t matter that he was high on prescribed pills he hadn’t taken in way too long.

How could he admit that he had tried to…

When he finally came to, he was on Deo’s couch, and once he remembered what he had said to the two older boys, he slipped out of the apartment and down the street. Of course, since he was in a rush, he hadn’t seen the darkening clouds that told of a thunderstorm.

Now, he was out in the rain sitting by a bridge being rained on because he had tripped and slammed into the ground when he had been running. 

Though thinking about it, he used to be mocked by his brothers when there was a thunderstorm. His middle name was Eurus, a Greek name, he knows, related to the East winds and even some stories…Storms.

They all had been named like that because his mom was named like that, Kristin Thanatos Watson, that led to Techno having the middle name Athena and…Wilbur having the middle name Apollo. 

He thinks Wilbur used to tease Techno for having a goddess as a middle name; it stopped when Techno mentioned Kristin having a god as her middle name. 

He should probably stop thinking about them.

He should stop thinking in general…

For a moment, his eyes cast to the bridge behind him and the now filling canal below, and then the rain…stopped.

He looks up only to be met with an umbrella and a worried look from his vitiligo friend. 

Ranboo.

“...are you okay?” Ranboo asked quietly. 

Tommy went to speak but it all fell short, no words escaped his mouth, not even a no. So, he fell back on his hands which ached from landing on them.

“ I’ve been better. ” 

“I see that, your hands are messed up there, and I’m willing to bet your knees and arms are the same. Your uniform is all muddy too.” Ranboo points out as they help him up, making sure to keep the umbrella over the both of them. 

“Do you want to come with me or would you rather I walk you home?” 

Ranboo didn’t question why he was scratched up or what he was doing sitting outside in a rainstorm, they simply offered a hand. 

It’s hard to believe they used to hate each other.

Tommy nodded to that question and the next thing he knew, he’s at Ranboo’s “House” (It’s a mansion because Ran is a rich bitch) 

Ranboo was currently digging through his wardrobe for comfortable clothes for him, as he dried himself off with a towel. 

“Here, they might be a little loose but..” Ranboo shrugs.

“ Can’t be any worse than Tubbo. ” Tommy signed before vanishing into the bathroom, smiling slightly as he heard a familiar laugh.

The pants were the only thing that was a little loose, everything else was fine. When he exits the bathroom, he’s met with a child tackling his leg.

“Gold!” Michael shouts and for a moment, Tommy thinks of Shroud but only for a moment. 

“Sorry, he heard you were here and came running.” Ranboo rubbed their neck and Tommy shook his head playfully.

“ It’s alright, I don’t mind, I never do, he’s too cute to be mad at. ” 

“You’re not wrong.” Ranboo chuckles.

“Gold! Gold! Look! Look!” Michael tugs on his pants and Tommy looks. “ T-O-M-M-Y” 

Tommy freezes for a moment before looking at Ranboo.

“I..taught him a bit of the alphabet because he wanted to talk like you.” Ranboo smiles nervously.

Tommy looks back down at the smiling child awaiting praise. And then he cries, happy tears of course, because look at him– look at this little four-year-old who learned sign language because he wanted to talk like Uncle Tommy.

Ranboo panics and moves to wipe his tears but Tommy shakes his head and steps back. 

“C’mon! My allergy isn’t that bad where I can’t comfort you” Ranboo pouts, crossing their arms, and Michael—ever the impressional, copies. 

Tommy simply snorts and shakes his head once more, wiping his tears and ruffling Michael’s hair, tufts of strawberry blonde being thoroughly messed up.

“Tommyyyy, I just brushed his hair,” Ranboo whines, fixing their child’s hair.

Well, their child…is putting it lightly. Michael isn’t actually Ranboo’s kid but their older brother’s kid. From what he was told, apparently that brother of theirs got around a lot and finally got a girl pregnant, when he tried to push the kid onto Ranboo’s moms because the girl didn’t want it, they weren’t having it. Ranboo apparently didn’t want the kid to have terrible parents and took him in. 

The day Tommy met Ranboo, they were very stressed, and colliding with him likely didn’t help either so when Ranboo snapped at Tommy for doing so, Tommy snapped back and walked off.

On one hand, they didn’t end up being friends until the end of the year when Tubbo forced them too by locking them in a room together that they were originally cleaning due to said boy, on the other hand, that was the first time Tommy had spoken to someone new without having to sign or write.

Not that it happened again after that.

In any case, Ranboo’s mama walks into the room, her hair white, and pulled into a low bun and in a blazer. She likely just came home from work.

“Hey– oh hi Tommy, didn’t know you were here.” Mrs. Beloved smiled at him but she was definitely curious, she always was.

“I found him in the rain, can we keep him?” Ranboo jokes and Tommy snorts.

“I don’t know, are you prepared for the responsibility? We already have one..child.” Mrs. Beloved said and she already expected the glare from him.

He was not a child, thank you very much.

“We are not taking in another one— oh, you’re talking about Tommy, hi Tommy, nice to see you’re not soaked anymore.” A familiar woman with black hair that was in a braid and casual clothes appears. 

Madam Beloved, he calls her as he doesn’t want to confuse the two whenever Ranboo speaks of them. Also, she’s a famous seamstress that Tommy looks up to, she’s even used some of his designs in her clothes. He got quite a lot of money from that.

Wow, you wouldn’t keep me? He writes on a sign. Ranboo’s moms only know standard sign language, never needing it until Tommy stumbled into Ran’s life and suddenly they had decided to learn. 

As if he was worth that much.

But, in any case, they only know basic gestures so far so he just sticks to writing so Ranboo doesn’t have to translate.

“I honestly think that your teacher would fight me for the right.” Madam Beloved chuckled, and Mrs. Beloved nodded. 

Scott wouldn’t adopt me. Tommy wrote with an eye roll.

“The fact that you call him by his first name is telling enough that he would.” Mrs. Beloved smiles. “We’ll get out of your hair now.” 

They both leave and Tommy is left staring at his whiteboard and the seemingly true statement. Would Scott adopt him? Fight for custody for him if he asked? Would he have a home?

…what even is a home?

He stayed at Ranboo’s house for a little while until the rain let up, texting Phil and Kristin where he was if they asked (They wouldn’t but he did so anyway.) 

Three miss messages from Avid Santa

2:34 pm

—Where are you?

—Tommy

—Please tell me you’re safe

—I’m okay, with a friend.

— Will you talk to me about what you said?

— I’m worried.

—I’m sorry.

— I don’t want to, it’s not a story that needs to be shared.

Tommy left their text messages at that, ignoring the next few that came. He then looks up to Ranboo joining a discord call in their normal chat, they take out the headphones and plug in the mic.

“Rannnnnnnnn” Tubbo’s voice suddenly rang out and while Tommy would usually shout at him, he didn’t feel like speaking, simply watching from where he was lying on the taller’s bed. 

“Whattttt” 

“Hello.” Tubbo grins.

“How come Tommy hasn’t joined the call?” Purpled mutters and Tommy huffs from the bed as Ranboo turns around.

“Gee, I wonder why, it’s almost as if he’s laying on my bed as if he owns it,” Ranboo says rather robotically and Tommy chuckles.

Tubbo gasps. “You’re having a sleepover without me??” 

“Nah, I just found him out in the rain like a lost puppy and took him home. My moms’ said I can’t keep him, which sucks.” Ran explains as Michael crawls onto the bed and lays down on him.

“Hi,” Michael whispers.

Tommy snorts and mouths a hello, gently patting the toddler’s back who readily snuggles into him.

Ranboo looks back at him. “You know, sometimes I think he likes you more than me.”

“I think he just likes his hair.” Hannah chimes in. “I don’t think he’s ever said his name before, it's just been multiple variations of gold.” 

Tommy hums in thought and grins, tapping the desk to get Ran’s attention. “Should I temporarily dye my hair? See how he reacts?” 

“Are you trying to make him cry?” 

Tommy laughs softly before getting distracted with his phone when it dings. There were already a few unread texts from Deo and Wisp but now Kristin had texted. 

One unread message from Kristin.

2:50

–Do you need us to pick you up?

—No need, doing something

—We have to go to Techno’s tournament today? 

Tommy frowns. 

—I was not made aware of that.

— Apologies, I guess your father forgot to tell you.

—Are you doing something important?

Tommy bites his lip, eyes casting to Ranboo who is currently arguing with Eryn, everyone else laughing. It’s calm here, especially with the weight on his chest that was fast asleep. It would likely not be calm at that tournament. 

—Taking photos for a photography project.

—Okay, just make sure you come to the next one then.

Tommy sighs and throws his phone to the side, messing with his wrists again, tugging at the bandages.

“Oi! Leave those alone.” Ranboo scolds when they notice, Tommy sticks his tongue out in response.

“Who’s doing what?” Eryn asked, ever the curious. 

“Tommy is messing with his bandages.” Ran grumbles.

“Why does Tommy have bandages?” Purpled asks rather suspiciously.

“...good question– Tommy, why do you have bandages?” Ran looks over at him. 

“Wound reopened.” 

“He says a wound reopened,” Ranboo says, squinting his eyes suspiciously. “Weird considering his wounds shouldn’t be fresh enough for him to do that.” 

“Okay, detective, I kept scratching at my wrists and it irritated the old wounds .” 

“That’s why we yell at you for scratching it!” Ranboo scolds.

Tommy reckons the look on his face looked like a kicked puppy because Ranboo immediately looked like he felt bad.

“Don’t feel bad for him, Ran! Yell at him, he’s an idiot.” Beau suddenly chimes up. “I got a text from Luke by the way! He says Deo and Wisp are freaking out, what did you do?” 

Tommy pouts, Luke is such a snitch.

“He says he did nothing.” Ranboo relays for him. 

Beau mutters to herself but doesn’t say anything about it. 

The group continues to talk among themselves and Michael continues to snore on his chest. Everything else fizzles out, like static, dull murmurs. He blinked and for a moment, he wasn’t in Ranboo’s room anymore. 

He was on the floor of a disused storage room, hands stained in charcoal and one too many self-portraits crumbled up around him. If he listened close enough, he could hear someone speaking.  

“The twins are easy, it’s the youngest I’m worried about Phillip.” 

Shuffling motions are heard, a cupboard being opened, floorboard creaking.

“ ---But that’s the problem! He refuses to go to the hospital to see her, none of us can convince him, he just stares at those charcoal drawings! His hands are practically stained permanently!” 

A creaking of a door gets open, a bright stream of light hits a few boxes, opened any further, and maybe it would’ve hit his eyes.

“It’s made even more difficult with the fact that I can barely find him! He’s never in his room, or the living room, or even the garden! Something is wrong with that kid, Phillip. Maybe it’s time you took him to see a psychologist?” 

He did go see one, and so did the twins, Techno always swore the room smelled of cheap bubblegum but Tommy believed it to be more of the bubblegum paste the dentist put in your mouth after a cleaning.

The psychologist spoke in a soft tone, trying to bring out their feeling about what happened to Kristin– their mother. 

“You witnessed your mother fall, didn’t you, Thomas? Could you tell me how that made you feel?”

Tommy remained quiet and detached, he did not know what Techno said when it came to his questions but he did remember that being the first time he was ever handed a prescription medication. 

..At age eight… 

Not that he was very diligent in taking it, Phil was never around and it’s not like his grandparents would remind him. They’d forget he was there if it wasn’t for Techno’s constant reminder.

He remembers his grandma insisting that there was something wrong with him all the time. 

“ He doesn’t cry, doesn’t smile, doesn’t even get angry! I don’t know what you want me to do, Phillip!”

Maybe the twins learned from that behavior. 

“You can’t be fixed, can you? At least I can be.” A brunette would say.

“Won’t you stop staring already?” A strawberry blonde would call out, staring at the charcoal. “What are you trying to accomplish!?” 

“I miss the garden…Phil..” 

How do I show you it? How do you see the colors? Do you see them the same way I do?

How do I make it up to you, mama? 

“...Tommy?”

Chapter Text

Tommy’s body was tingly, like the kind you feel after not moving for a while, which was fair considering he hadn’t been moving for a while. 

Currently, he was staring up at dual-colored eyes and not a dusty roof. Ranboo, his mind supplies, said person was talking to him. Not that he could hear them anyway. 

He thinks his pills have worn off, he usually dissociates like that when his pills decide they don’t want to work anymore. 

It’s why he stopped taking them in the first place, it just made him drowsy and spacy. 

His hands stung as his body slowly started to cooperate with him, fingers twitching for a moment and eyes blinking far too much. When his body finally decided to work completely, he sat up, eyes cast to Michael who was now asleep in the bed.

He goes to sign, to reassure the worried eyes in front of him but he is stopped, Ran taking his hands in theirs before he can even move them into a letter. 

( “Stop using your hands! You're not mute! Speak!”) 

“Your hands are bleeding.” Ran had spoken, breaking him out of his stupor. 

They were, probably from when he fell but not likely, they looked more like his nails had been pressing too hard into his hand. 

“This is a bad habit of yours.” They mumble. “Always pressing too hard into your hand, you did this back then too, by the bridge.” 

Tommy tilts his head, did he do that when he was sitting in the rain by it? He didn’t think he did. 

“Not that bridge, Thomas.” 

Tommy’s breath hitches.

Oh, that bridge. 

(Rushing water, a cold railing.

It rained recently, maybe that was why it was so slippery.) 

Ran goes to say something, maybe an apology for bringing it up or maybe another worry spouting but his door was suddenly busted open and a familiar brunette stumbled into the room.

“Hi– am I interrupting something?” Tubbo tilts his head, and Ran quickly finishes bandaging his hands before scolding Tubbo.

“No. And what did I say about bursting into my room like that?! Michael is sleeping!” Ran hits Tubbo over the head who didn’t look the least bit guilty

Tubbo then meets his gaze and full-on sends it, tackling him back onto the bed and Tommy makes sure not to jostle Michael, it’s a struggle.

Ran sighs, long-suffering, and Tubbo giggles. The brunette stares at him.

“Hi.” 

Tommy mouths it back.

“Not in the talking mood, big man? That’s fine, I can talk for days.” Tubbo grins.

“We know, Bo, we know,” Ran said as they moved to sit next to them.

Tommy grabs his phone, ignoring both the texts from Bitzel and Luke (Gods, they’ve been told), and types up something. 

“You’re more energetic than usual” 

“That I am! I ran out of my meds and my dad and sister have been suffering for the better part of the day so they kicked me out as soon as the rain stopped and told me to go bother you guys.” Tubbo rambles.

Tubbo without ADHD medication? Well, honestly he isn’t too bad, just excitable, Tommy doesn’t actually think that he needs to take it but apparently Tubbo goes off the rails without it. (Though hacking the school’s network was definitely not the cause of no medication despite how Schlatt tried to spin it.)

“Anyway! Your hands are injured– you good? You okay? Boo, why are his hands injured??”  

“He fell, it scabbed, and then he reopened the small cuts,” Rambo explains, sitting down on his computer chair. 

“Oh, you get injured a lot, did you know that?”  Tubbo huffs. “You need to stop.” 

“Impossible, I’m a klutz.” Tommy chuckles, adjusting their position because apparently, Tubbo is going to use him as a pillow now. “ How did you get in?” 

“I walked in, said hello to Boo’s moms, and came upstairs, I don’t think they processed the fact that I’m here just yet.”

“I take it they just said hi back automatically and went on with their day?” Ranboo questions, an eyebrow raised. 

“Yup! I bet they’ll check if I actually arrived and wasn’t a figure of their imagination.” 

“That’s a pretty lame imagination” 

“Fuck you! I’m a great thing to think about!” 

They bicker for the most part, sounding more one-sided considering Tubbo’s voice was the only one heard. 

Michael wakes up a few minutes later and Ranboo takes him downstairs to go eat something. Tubbo listens to his heartbeat as they go, messing with his bandages. 

“I really do think you get injured too much,” Tubbo then hums like he was lost in thought before voicing them, never one to let his mind settle what his mouth can. “Ran said he found you in the rain and you didn’t walk home with us, Purpled and Hannah were worried, we all were. What exactly happened?” 

Tommy bites his lip, hands moving to fidget with his bandages before being stopped and held by Tubbos. “C’mon boss man, was it a bad thing?”

“Had a panic attack”  He finally typed out, typos highlighted in red because of his shaking hands. He didn’t like admitting to having one, he didn’t like the looks that followed, he never did. 

But Tubbo didn’t look at him like that, no, he was looking at him like he was, well…normal. 

“Oh, I think I’ve had one of those before, they aren’t fun, you’re okay now, right?”

Tommy nods a bit dumbfoundedly. 

“Good! Your heart rate sounds fine but there's never anything wrong with making sure.” Tubbo grins before finally rolling off of him and onto the bed.

…Tommy could see where Michael got his personality from.

Ranboo chooses that time to poke his head back into his room before moving to lay in between them, all staring at the ceiling together. 

“Main character much?” Tubbo chimes up.

“You know it!” Ranboo responds in a Sonic the Hedgehog voice, causing all three to burst out into giggles for no reason at all.

When they finally settle down, Tommy’s eyes begin to rake over the glow stars Ran had stuck onto the ceiling, discount stargazing, they had called it. 

Stars….

—

FUCK HIS PROJECTS–

Tommy falls off the bed, startling both Ranboo and Tubbo who peer down at him.

“You good there, boss man?” Tubbo questions. 

“My projects are due in four weeks and I haven’t even started on a few of them.” Tommy frantically signs before getting his stuff together. 

“Wait– you haven’t ??” Ranboo tilts their head. “Have you even finished your midterm?”

…

..

Tommy lets out a distressed noise, so much for an art fanfic! He rarely even draws in most of the chapters!

Tommy leaves Ranboo's house after that, stumbling out with a rushed goodbye to their parents. He then ran all the way home.

And fell. 

He hissed out as it stung before he got up and continued to run to his wonderful house so he could at least finish his collage painting. 

He practically bursts through the front door, shoes hastily thrown by the door along with his bag and skateboard.

No one was home yet.

He settles into his art room and spots his unfinished pile of paintings. He quickly pulls out the one for the group collage and sets it down on the table, a tarp underneath. 

The only thing that needed doing was the women at the center, the planets and stars were already finished. 

So, he paints, her skin a void, her eyes stars, her hair a galaxy. Texturing and adding where he pleased and he spends so long doing so that he doesn’t hear the front door open nor does he hear his art room being creaked open.

His eyes were only focused on this one point, on how the women’s eyes were proportioned and how the nose was shaped and—

“Thomas!”

Tommy’s eyes blinked before he looked up and spotted his mother, a worried look on her face.

“Are you alright? I’ve been calling your name for a while now.” Kristin asks softly, peering over his shoulder to spot his painting. “...How pretty, is that for school?”

Tommy nods to both questions. 

“I see, well, will you join us for dinner?” Kristin asks, eyes pleading that he did, just this once, and well, Tommy isn’t that mean. 

Tommy nods once more, closing the paints and putting his paintbrushes in water, mixing then drying. Kristin helps somewhat by putting the paints in their containers. 

He washes his hands in the kitchen, Phil seemingly surprised by the fact that he’s joining them for dinner as his own previous attempts to get him to join were met with a quick head shake and a closed door.

Tommy sits by Techno, staring mostly but both Kristin and Phil count this as a win anyway. Both kids were at the table and that’s all that mattered right now.  

It was quiet for the most part and any attempt to get him to..well– speak was a failure in any right.  

Tommy only wrote his responses down or shrugged. 

Techno was the leading factor in getting him to talk though, knowing more about him than his parents did admittedly.

“Any interesting photos or are you still struggling?” Techno brings up as Kristin and Phil subtly look (It’s not subtle at all, Tommy could see them from a mile away.) 

Tommy sighed as dramatically as he could and wrote.  “I don’t understand why they gave us free reign, I do better when they give me a subject.” 

Techno snorts. “What is it even for?” 

Tommy was a bit more…hesitant to admit that one but he finally wrote it down. “Art fair, it’s just the art students showing off I guess” 

“Oh? When is it?” Phil asks the exact question Tommy was dreading. 

“Like, A month from now.” 

“So why the rush? You don’t strike me as a person who wants something done right away.” Techno muses. 

“The works themselves are due in three weeks, and then my Midterm three days after that, and then a week later the photographs are due.” Tommy writes growing a bit more nervous.

“How many have you done?” 

“Two.” 

“And how many do you have left?” 

“Eleven or twelve give or take.” 

“ Thomas. And you still haven’t thought of anything?” Techno just stared at him. 

Tommy slams his head down on the table with an even more dramatic sigh. 

After dinner, Tommy sits down back in his art room and stares at his midterm. They were told to draw a person important to them but Tommy was specifically told not to draw any of his friends, Scott wanted him to branch out or whatever.

So he stares at a woman drawn in charcoal without a face. A problem he always had when drawing his mother's face. 

Now, he could turn it in like this, but then he’ll get points off because Scott knows he can draw faces and it also wouldn’t satisfy him if he left it without one.

So he stares and stares because this is the only thing he can get done while he is left without ideas for the other two. 

He stares so long that Techno ends up walking in and staring at him. 

“This is a familiar sight.” Techno drawls. “Well, almost you don’t have charcoal on your hands,” 

Techno then sits next to him and stares at the painting with him. “So, what are we doing?” 

Tommy motions to the blank face of the painting. “Tried drawing Kristin for my midterm….it’s not going well as you can see.”  

“Is it just the face?” Techno tilts his head, analyzing it fully. 

Tommy nods. “Do you know how Kristin’s face looks in detail?” 

Techno’s nose scrunches up, likely in thought, before frowning.

“No…I..I don’t…” Techno eventually mutters and Tommy isn’t surprised by that revelation. 

Wilbur wouldn’t know either and he’s sure Phil must’ve stared long enough to try and re-memorize the way her face had settled.

Tommy alone hadn’t really looked at Kristin in the face in about…six to seven years. He stopped visiting the hospital when he was nine and even when she returned home a year and a half later, he still avoided her. 

To this day, he avoided her.

Techno stares a little while longer and then leans on him very slowly. “Would you like me to shoot ideas at you?”

Tommy hesitates before leaning against him as well and nods. 

Techno lists a few, some words Tommy doesn’t recognize but that’s likely because Techno’s an English major and knows more than he does. 

Though most of those words, Tommy had thought over and didn’t like. 

Eventually, Techno says something that catches his attention.

“..something... Saudade……. or–” 

He taps his shoulder. “What does that mean?” he writes.

“The love that remains.” Techno hums. “A longing to be near something distant.” 

Tommy thinks it through. His childhood could be described that way, before his mother’s illness that is. 

Would that be a bit messed up that he drew something like that?

Eh, when has he cared about other people's concerns?

“I like that.” 

“Yeah? How about we figure out your other theme now?

He groans.  

Chapter Text

Petals carried on the wind so easily, allowing themselves to drift away at the slightest touch. The slightest sound of a swing being moved back and forth is heard, a woman responsible for it and the squeals of a child begging to go faster followed. 

“Do you like the breeze, Thomas?” The woman smiles. 

“Yeah! It’s nice, the flowers tickle my nose!” The boy giggles ever so cheerfully.

The woman taps his nose with a giggle of her own and looks at him, so he looks up.

He does not see a face.

He does not see a face. 

He does not see a face. 

How hard was it to draw a face?

Tommy was at his wit's end, his midterm, the very project that was near completion, refused to be completed. 

He does not remember his mother’s smile lines and it’s his own fault for that. All because he couldn’t stomach being a corner piece in a hospital room. 

He eventually just stopped looking before the charcoal blended in his eyes and moved to his beloved box filled with art sketchbooks, dating all the way back to middle school. 

He started drawing towards the end of elementary, his teacher had a pack of charcoal sticks in the back of the class that no one used. He stole them though he doubts that the teacher cared much for them anyway.

He didn’t know why he chose charcoal out of everything but he stuck with them until he couldn’t stomach it anymore and he only went back to it because he wanted something different for his midterm. 

Why his midterm was a portrait of his mother, he had no clue but now he struggled with a face of all things. The one thing he usually started with. 

Pushing that aside, he continues to dig through his box until he pauses on a book. A book he bought a while ago, more specifically, a scrapbook with sunflowers, forget-me-nots, and what he later figured out was another bunch of bluebells drawn on the back. 

His mind drifts to Kristin and her garden and well…looks like his mind won’t let him forget about the issue at hand. Though it’s always been an issue since she came home. 

He was ten when she finally was released from the hospital and even then, she was confined to her room for the better part of it. In fact, it wasn’t until last year that she felt well enough to go back to work.  

But Tommy avoided every area of the house she was brought to like the plague, never stopping for a moment. Not even when his name was called out ever so weakly.

(“..Thomas?”)

A part of him wondered if she ever yearned to see his face. 

Maybe…maybe it was he finally sat down and addressed this situation. 

Maybe it was time to apologize… 

Though, in hindsight, that was easier said than done. He couldn’t speak to her, he knew his voice wouldn’t let him. Writing felt..meaningless and he wasn’t a good writer anyway, Mr. Halo could tell you that any day.  

His eyes fell back on the scrapbook. 

Art…art was his thing though, it’s all he was sometimes. Maybe…well, he could, making something out of this book.

Digging through his art supplies, he threw out stickers, markers, paints, pens, and even ribbons he didn’t know he owned. He didn’t exactly have pictures that would typically go in a sketchbook. 

He gulps, nervousness already coming off in waves as he pushes open the curtains to his art room and stares out at the garden he always avoided. 

He could do this! He could grab his camera and take a few pictures! He’s got this! It won’t be like the last time he went out there.

He takes his time going up the stairs and heading into his room, snagging his camera off his desk and making sure it is fully charged. His eyes then fall on his cow plush lying on his bed. 

…He wasn’t that childish, was he? 

When he finally took a small step into the garden, it was with a camera in hand and plushy tucked under his arm, small hooves thrown over said arm like it was hanging on.

He mostly stays by the start of the garden, taking photos of flowers he’s long forgotten the names of. Slowly, he entered deeper into the patches of color and continued taking photos of things he thought was pretty. 

His eyes then fall to the swing attached to a cherry blossom tree, swinging and rope almost rotten due to years of weathering. 

It was an impulse, placing his stuffed cow on the worn wooden seat and taking a photo of it.

Suddenly, he heard a giggle from behind him. 

“Pff, what are you doing, Thomas?” Kristin huffed, amused as she dusted dirt off her sundress. 

Tommy pauses, he hadn’t been running from her lately, not when Techno started catching on and forcing him to stay. 

(“If I have to stay in this awkward dinner, you do too.”) 

He didn’t have a pencil or paper to really talk to her so he simply shrugged his shoulders and showed his camera. 

“I see, taking photos? Is that for a project?” She asks and He nods along. 

Kristin then picks up the cow plush, Henry, off the swing and dusts it off. She stares for a while, hand running over the various stitches and repairs he’s made over the years. He thinks she chuckles at the now mismatched eyes. A bead had fallen out and he couldn’t find it, and then he couldn’t find a black bead which led to him making it red. 

“We…bought you this, right? When you were…eight? Seven?”  Kristin questioned. 

Tommy nods, they had all gotten one, he doesn’t remember the occasion for it but he remembers being taken to the toy store with the twins to choose a plush. A sheep, pig, and cow were chosen.

When Wilbur was in his teen years, he tossed his sheep out, though Tommy took it out of the trash, it was forever stained blue from the paint he had thrown away prior. It now sits in his closet.

Techno kept his on his computer desk all through growing up and even when he left for college, it still sat there. Tommy bets it’ll still be there if he checked right now. 

Kristin was staring at it fondly before handing it back and looking at the garden. “I haven’t seen you enter here since you were a kid.” 

Tommy purses his lips, his eyes falling to where a patch of sage used to be. He didn’t like the returning memory of this place, only stomaching it because he knew how much Kristin liked it. 

Kristin must’ve followed his gaze because she stared at the area where she didn’t plant anything, eyes fell on a forgotten broken planter. 

“....That’s where I fell, right?” She hums. “I remember Phil saying you were there…but I don’t remember..” 

Tommy nods, he could never forget the sight. 

“Then…is that why you avoid the garden? Because you saw me fall?” 

Tommy nods again, he’s slowly getting tired of doing so. 

“I see..” Kristin mutters before smiling at him. “I’ll start on lunch, will you be eating with me?” 

Kristin uses puppy eyes! 

…It’s super effective!

Tommy nods along and her eyes get all glittery before she walks off. He took a picture of her walking away.

When he finally returns to his art room, he uses the printer, which usually sits in the corner of the room, and prints out the photos. He could’ve gotten them professionally printed out in the darkroom at school but he wants this done today.

He quickly cuts out the white borders and grabs his glue. This was about to get very messy, but most art was. 

He didn’t know how to scrap actually and he was mostly looking at Pinterest ideas for what other people did. 

This also led to doodles, words, stickers, glitter, and ribbons being put onto the blank pages, all the way until the last page where he bordered it in yellow ribbon to match the book.

From there, he wrote down what he could never say.

Again, he was never good at writing so everything was a jumbled mess of thoughts he yearned to just say and most of it was just.

I love you. 

By the time the book was finished, his fingers still twitched to do more, to really prove his point. He digs through his sketchbooks, gently pulling out every page in which he drew her garden.

Flowers were the first thing he learned to draw in detail. The first thing he wasted those charcoals on was the small sight just out this window back when this room was nothing but storage and all he did was hide behind boxes. 

He then grabs some watercolor paper and some of his more expensive paints and starts painting that same view again. 

He didn’t need to look up to know what flowers went where or how they reflected in the evening light. He’d seen and sketched the scene thousands of times before, desperate to recreate it, desperate to show the view Kristin had missed for a year.

And by the time he was finished, his hands were stained and his eyes stung from not blinking as often as he should.

But, for the first time since he’s started drawing flowers. He was satisfied with the results.

He gathers everything and peeks out of his art room, eyes scanning until he spots her in the kitchen, checking on something in the oven. 

Tommy quickly moves to the living room and sets the items down on the coffee table before standing back up and waltzing over to the kitchen, very nervously tugging on Kristin as she washed her hands.

“Hm? Did you need something, Thomas?” 

He motions to the living room, taking her hand and leading her to sit on the couch before he takes the folder of his charcoal drawings of her flowers and hands them to her. He had written his age at the top when he made them.

She tilts her head before opening the folder and very preciously takes out each one, eyes running over them. “These are…my garden…” she finally muttered. 

She stops on the only colored drawing, eyes scanning the horizon, the petals, the warmth that somehow made its way out of the paper. 

This was her first time really seeing his art, only Techno had the boldness to enter the room he so lovingly claimed as his. She only went in last time because she wanted to see her son, wanted to see who he was becoming.

Because after all these years, she realized that giving this child space during a difficult time was the absolute worst thing she could’ve done.

Before she could say anything else, Tommy shoves the scrapbook in her hands, almost crumbling his sketches in the process but– oh well!

Kristin manages to make sure they don’t crumble before taking the scrapbook out of his hands and opening it. Eyes moving continuously as she looked at everything the book had to offer.

She’s in awe or rather that’s what Tommy is assuming she’s in as she flips page to page to page. 

Until she reached the last one. 

Tommy doesn’t look at her face then, nervous for whatever reaction he might receive for such a messy ramble. Actually– is it too late to regret this? To take back the book that now had too many feelings that he was now not comfortable sharing?

Suddenly, arms wrapped around him and he stumbled back a bit, using his hand to make sure he didn’t hit the coffee table behind him.

“It’s not your fault, Thomas..” She whispers ever so softly and he feels his whole world come crashing down. 

He’s heard the opposite all his life, has heard that he was the sole cause for his mother collapsing, for his mother’s poor health. 

“It was never your fault– your father and I knew the risks, we knew I’d get sick. It’s not your fault” Kristin repeats over and over through tears.

He was crying too, he realized, tears sticky on his face, almost ticklish. 

But…part of the reason he thought it was his fault was because she avoided him so why!? Why didn’t she just—hug him?

What was the point? 

Maybe she saw the confusion on his face amidst the tears or maybe she just knew what he was thinking but she was explaining without stopping– rambling really.

“--I didn’t have good parents, that's why you only know your grandparents on Phil’s side, so after everything went down I…I didn’t know how to talk with you– I didn’t know how to…to walk you through it– so I thought it better to give you space..” Kristin wipes his tears. “I realize now what a terrible decision that was, how that led me to fail you, Techno, and….well, I suppose his folly wasn’t too much of my fault.” 

It’s not, Tommy doesn’t think anyone could be to blame for what the lesser twin of Techno grew up to be. They were raised in the same environment, and he and Techno ended up fine. Well, pricks are pricks. 

But, in any case, it’ll be a while before he believes those words, his mind still fumbled up for all that has happened but hey. He got a notification from his phone earlier last week that he was put back in therapy. Maybe he could talk to Puffy about it.  

“Tommy, right? Is that what you want to be called?”

After their cry-sesh, Kristin— his mother , put his paintings and sketches on the wall and later stored that scrapbook on her nightstand. From there they eat lunch before Tommy returns to his art room.

He’s not ready to paint that face in his midterm painting but he did decide on a topic for his art class so he could at least write down his favorite memories from his childhood and flesh out ideas. The first one was obvious, swinging with his mother. 

He grabs his phone to see if he can decide on what materials he should use before freezing at the spam in their discord chat. 

The Minors

Devil-boy: What were you talking about earlier about Luke, Beau?

Pretty Princess: Oh, about Tommy? Yeah, apparently Tommy mentioned something while he was on medication. Let me ask. 

..

.

Pretty Princess: @Purpled Guy @Little Rose ????

Purpled Guy: ? What?

Pretty Princess: Why didn’t you tell us Tommy tried to commit suicide?

BeeBoy: WHADSYH

Devil-boy: Excuse me? 

Little Rose: We were sworn to secrecy! 

RanCat: You knew too? 

Purpled Guy: You knew??

RanCat: By the bridge? 

Little Rose: ? Wasn’t a bridge. 

Pretty Princess: Yeah, Tommy apparently mentioned a kitchen

Purpled Guy: ! This motherfucker @Mother Dearest

There were fifteen pings in total. 

He’s fucked. 

Chapter Text

Okay– okay so his friends know- that’s not a big deal, he won’t throw up over that–

Oh– 

Ohhh but now they’re aware that there were two attempts, not one.

He started to feel nauseous when he started reading the texts but now he was full-on vomiting in an empty paint bucket he had lying around. 

Luckily for him, Kristin doesn’t come to check on him, likely in her room for whatever reason, and can’t hear him. 

After that, he’s suddenly struck with the realization that they can and will head to his house and force the truth out of him so Tommy is seeing the appeal of running out the front door with his spray paints. 

So he does. 

He took his skateboard before he left and wrote a note stating he was out shooting pictures. He also left his phone because he’s more than aware that his friends have his location whenever it’s on him. 

He weaves through alleyways until he gets into the more low-income-looking areas, making sure to not go down any too-dark alleyways. 

He finally reaches a familiar-looking area with blank walls to spray paint on. He didn’t have anything in mind nor did he feel like thinking one through. He simply sprayed a light color and went to town.  

Flowers were all that remained on that wall, the color leaking down slowly.

“Whoa!”

Tommy jumps and spins around, eyes landing on a familiar small, black-haired boy. A little boy named Shroud or so he had been told.

“That’s really pretty!” Shroud grins at him. “I told you we’d meet again!”

Tommy lets out an amused huff and sits down next to his art, he pats his pants pockets for anything to write on/with but unfortunately, he wasn’t as prepared as before considering he had run out in a rush.

Shroud must’ve noticed and grinned, standing in front of him proudly. 

“I brought a crayon and paper! So you can talk to me!” Shroud declares, offering his notepad and red crayon. 

Tommy takes it and writes, trying to be semi-legible when writing with a crayon of all things. “Hi, how are you” 

Shroud takes a moment to read it before smiling. “I’m good, mister!”

A growl is heard, from the kid that is and Tommy tilts his head. 

“That’s my stomach saying hi” Shroud huffs. 

“I think that’s your stomach saying it’s hungry.” 

..

“Mm, but I don’t have food, my mama was smoking something and then she ate it all.” Shroud pouts. 

Tommy winces, smoking then eating? Weed most likely, though eating food meant for your kid is kinda harsh, his parents must be drug addicts. Tommy has gotten munchies while smoking but never enough to make him want to eat everything.

He moves to stand up and offers his hand. Shroud takes it curiously. Tommy then grabs his paints with his other hand and puts Shroud on the skateboard with him before skating towards a burger place he knows is nearby.

“Where are we going, mister?” 

Tommy simply smiles at him, he has a brief thought that this could technically count as kidnapping but there’s also a high chance the kid’s parents won’t know anything about his little transgression.

When they finally make it, the kid gasps and runs up to the window, looking inside. “Oh, it’s this place! I used to look inside the window at all the people! The big boss lady told me to go away though.”

That’s…sad.

Tommy ushers him inside, picking him up when he notices a woman staring at him. He simply uses their pen to ask for a table. 

“What, you can’t speak?” The lady snides. 

Tommy shakes his head. 

Another waitress butts in before anything else could be said and they’re led to a table by the window, Shroud excitedly looks out the window as they receive their menus. Tommy taps the table and points to the kid section.

“What’s a milkshake?” Shroud asks after he points to chicken tenders and fries. 

God, how bad was this kid's parents that he didn’t even know what a milkshake was? He had a semi-bad childhood and even he knew what a milkshake was. 

The waitress walks up and asks what he wants, Tommy goes to write but the girl stops him and signs with her hands. “Do you understand?” 

Tommy smiles and signs back. “I do, I was unaware that someone knew sign here.”

The girl grins back, “My school started offering classes, though I’m still learning.” 

Tommy finally orders as Shroud was getting impatient and Tommy knew better than to mess with hangry people. 

When they finally did get their food, Shroud was in awe. “Can I really have all this?” 

Tommy nods, pushing the plate of chicken tenders towards him.

Shroud attempts to eat everything in a quickness and Tommy has to slow him down before the kid throws up.

Shroud takes one sip of his milkshake before absolutely chugging it. Tommy also has to slow him down on that too. 

“Milkshakes are the best! Can I have this every day ?” 

Tommy snorts and then laughs, the suffocating feeling of today’s events slowly edging away though it still weighed on his mind. 

Though, that reminds him. He brought his camera with him to take photos or whatever as part of his excuse. He silently takes it out and takes a picture of Shroud with his milkshake mustache.

Tommy then calls over the waitress to pay, taking a look at her name. 

“Thank you, Molly.” Tommy signs as they leave, the girl waving goodbye with a grin. 

“Mister! Go with me to the park!” Shroud says, holding his hand once more.

“Why are you calling me mister? You know my name, no?”  

“I mean, yeah but you’re older than me so you’re a mister!” Shroud grins, running ahead. “Anyway, can you teach me how to do that paint stuff?” 

“Spray Paint?” 

Shroud tilts his head, failing to read the poorly written words with too thick crayon so Tommy just simply shakes his spray paint bag.

“Yeah! That!”

Tommy motions to an empty wall nearby and pulls out some paints, he crouches down to Shroud’s level. Making sure Shroud was paying attention before shaking the can and pressing down on the nozzle, watching as a golden paint made its way onto the wall, making a little ball. 

Shroud picks a color and does the same, almost spraying himself had Tommy not quickly turned the can around.

Shroud squeals at the red being sprayed on and drags it everywhere, making a weird-looking animal.

“It’s a cat!” Shroud declares and sure, it’s a cat, a red one, but a cat nonetheless. 

Tommy lets him make more crude drawings with the can, and Tommy occasionally adds his own really bad drawings. 

It’s the first time in a long time that he let himself draw terribly.

Stupid and drippy drawings filled that wall, poorly done but laughter had followed all the while. To be honest, he’s never really had fun drawing, most of it was done for the sake of the people around him. 

He started drawing for Kristin, Purpled continued to make him when he forced him to apply to Esempi, and his other friends encouraged him to keep going despite so desperately trying to quit. 

And he almost did one year. 

Funny enough, it was just before one of his..attempts that he attempted to quit. He was trying to leave everything behind, throw it all away and just go with the wind but his friends, ever so stubborn, caught on and begged him to stay.

( “Please– please Tommy you promised!”)

Tommy shakes his head and looks at Shroud who was still very determinedly spray painting the wall with a bunch of weird figures he called “animals” but that was left up to interpretation. 

“Why do you draw, mister?” 

Tommy blinks and looks at him, wondering if the boy had just read his mind or something considering he was just thinking about it. 

“For my mom and friends” 

“Not for yourself?” 

Tommy tilts his head at him. 

‘When I get dressed in the morning, I get changed all by myself! And my mommy and daddy don’t care but I do it anyway! For me!” Shroud grins. “Why don’t you?” 

Tommy freezes. 

( “Tommy, why do you only do what other people expect?” A familiar voice rings out, stern and soft all at once. 

Citrus fills the air, a summer candle that is too sweet but familiar and way better than bubblegum.

Tommy doesn’t have a particular answer, he just did, was it that big of a problem?

“Do you have something that’s just yours?” Puffy asks. 

…He sews, he picked it up in middle school when his cow plush had ripped, but that was just to keep a memory alive, was it his?

And boxing was something to get his anger out, something Deo dragged him into. The same way Wisp dragged him into skateboarding and Quackity into weed, even if that last one was accidental. 

After a while he shakes his head, does it truly matter? At least he was doing something.)

Contrary to Shroud, Tommy doesn’t dress himself for well himself, he does it because he knows Purpled would storm his room like the beaches of Normandy if he didn’t get up that morning. 

He, at the very least, chooses his own clothing even if Beau might’ve bought him most of what was in his closet. 

This child, who probably doesn’t understand the turmoil he just put him through, continues to happily spray paint the wall, coloring in a weird cat drawing with orange. 

Tommy then pauses and looks at the cans in his hand. He, in a way, had something even if it stemmed from his regular art, he still had spray painting. No one told him to do this nor did he tell other people he did this.

And thinking back, he used to have another skill he had forgotten. 

“...Piano..” He murmured before realizing he had spoken, he quickly looked to Shroud who was all starry-eyed and winced, here comes someone making a big deal that he spo–

“You can play Piano?! That’s so cool! I always wanted to learn an instrument!” Shroud babbles out, dropping the paint can in a fit of excitement. “Can you show me— Oh but we don’t have a piano around here– Do you have a video!?” 

Tommy smiles softly before shaking his head, his parents likely did but he doesn’t have his phone right now. Though, strangely, he still felt lighter at the fact that the kid focused on his now less-than-par piano skills and not his words.

Shroud continues to ramble about instruments he’d like to play someday and Tommy can’t help but stare fondly at the boy currently talking his head off.

He used to do this, he thinks, with his dad on the rare days he’d be home, likely back before his mother collapsed. 

“Did he love me when I was this young? Did he stop when his wife collapsed?” 

Thoughts akin to those fill his mind and make him a little queasy. He used to solely think like this back in middle school when anger was the only thing on his mind.

Now it’s just…tiredness, an exhaustion that had settled in the deepest part of his bones and wouldn’t let go. 

He was due a long long rest actually though whether he’d get it was unknown. Especially since his secrets seem to be slipping from him one by one and he knows that it’s going to build up into something he won’t be able to control.

It scared him, he won’t lie, he was so used to painting that path on his own, used to the same repetitive motions that he only stepped off of when his friends painted him something different but he couldn’t paint over his secrets no longer, every regret being peeled up off the floor and made his wounds bare. 

Every shaky stroke line and dulled-out color that led to paint an ugly portrait of himself that he couldn’t ever bring himself to replicate. 

He couldn’t stop it, not even when he saw familiar beat-up boots enter his line of sight staring down at him as Shroud hid behind him. 

Wisp.

Wisp simply shakes his car keys and Tommy sighs. 

“Traitor.”

Chapter Text

“Why did you do that?” A young boy asks as he stares at a taller boy– taller than him at least– crumbled onto the ground.

“He was hitting you! Why didn’t you fight back?” A younger boy chides, knuckles bruised and split. 

“...I don’t know how.” The violet-eyed boy murmurs. 

“I’ll do it for you then.” A cerulean-eyed boy replies. “After all, we’re friends, right?” 

“...Sure, I guess..”

—----

—-

–

Purpled met Tommy back in middle school when both their worlds were at their lowest.

Purpled was always sporting bruises and on some days, Tommy seemed to match him, whether that be his knuckles or his arms. 

Funny enough, Purpled didn’t really like the kid at first, loud and buoyant but strangely quiet and shut in, he was an enigma that Purpled wanted no part in, because the boy always dragged around trouble. 

But, whenever Purpled was getting bullied, Tommy had the habit of appearing. It started out in seventh grade when he transferred in after his old school shut down. A few kids saw him as an easy target and started picking on him but rarely did it ever get physical.

That is until people figured out that his older brother was in a gang. 

Purpled, to this day, isn’t sure how anyone found out about Punz. He was never one to talk about any member of his family because they were violent, abrasive, and not people Purpled ever found himself wanting to be with. Even if Punz wasn’t bad, the idea of him only made his life worse. 

No one wanted anything to do with him and those who did were only determined to get street cred because they were dumb kids who didn’t realize how dangerous something like that was. 

And then Tommy came along one day while he was being bullied and slammed them into a locker. It was a one-against-two but strangely, Tommy had fewer bruises then they did. 

And Tommy fought them off, every single time. Not because the blonde cared but because he wanted to get his anger out and saving someone was a plus.

Or so Tommy says. 

In any case, Purpled had slowly gotten used to Tommy coming and going as he pleased even if there was violence involved. 

Because violence was always involved, his parents were violent, especially towards him, and his brother was violent even if Purpled didn’t see him much and he was violent.

It was a sickening cycle he tried so hard to stop but maybe it ran in his blood, maybe it was unstoppable.

But he wanted to stop it, that’s the whole reason why he never fought back, the whole reason why he curled up and started counting when their kicks got too hard, because he didn’t want to be violent, he didn’t want to be his parents.

But he broke things in his anger, slammed his fists against hard surfaces despite Tommy scolding him for doing so.  

( He broke a vase– his mother loved this vase– he was fucked , Purpled has never panicked as much as he did now, hands cutting as he desperately attempted to glue the pieces back together.

“Purpled..?” An older voice calls out and he flinches, now realizing how badly he was shaking.

“Here, let me help” His older brother whispers and gently puts the pieces back together with him.

His mother found out regardless but he didn’t get in trouble, because Punz took the blame.)

His brother got him a soccer ball, with nothing but the words “I understand”. It was the last time he saw his brother.

He won’t lie, it helped his anger, whenever he was upset, whenever he was pissed, he’d kick it for hours over and over and one day a soccer coach saw him and asked him to fill in for his team, and against his better judgment, he did.

He hadn’t known at the time that the coach worked at Esempi or that those kids belonged to said school. Scoring once was apparently enough and he was sent home with a paper telling him he was invited to Esempi for a sports scholarship. 

Purpled doesn’t know what that coach saw in him, doesn’t know why all it took was a simple kick when kids worked hard to reach the opportunity just offered to him, but he didn’t hesitate to take that low-hanging fruit. 

He couldn’t afford to, if his future meant anything.

But no matter what, his anger never left, bubbling, vial. He couldn’t understand how Tommy handled his own anger. Maybe violence was such an additive outlet. 

So he tried other methods of coping. Negative as it might be, he slept a lot in those years and when he couldn’t, he turned to medication. 

But there’s always a moment in time when something so small grows to become harmful, like smoke in the air, like medication down his throat.

( His parents were fighting again, screaming at each other, broken glass likely coating the kitchen floor. Not that they used it for anything besides storing liquor and knives. 

He was hiding in the bathroom, the door wasn’t locked, he knew better than to do that, locking doors in this house was only going to get you hit. 

He just wanted to sleep, ignore the fighting between two strangers in his house.  

That was his excuse for why he grabbed the melatonin pills from the cabinet. His excuse for taking more than two even when he knew he shouldn’t, his excuse for emptying the bottle. 

He slept for three days.

He doesn’t do it again, not when he wakes to Tommy sobbing as he holds him close and Hannah talking down his parents from their rage induced rambling. )

He woke up every day from a text from Tommy and a voice recording from Hannah that both demanded that he respond immediately upon waking up. 

However, maybe his own accidental attempt caused Tommy to want to follow in his footsteps. 

Purpled wasn’t able to see blood the same way anymore, too much made him queasy, and terrified of what laid at the end of that pool. 

Regardless of what might have led him to take the plunge, Purpled was promised– as was Hannah– that it’d only be a one-time thing, that he wouldn’t hurt himself anymore.

But now, as Ranboo paced back and forth in front of them, he learned there was a second attempt by a bridge. 

And for the first time in a while, he broke something in his anger. A mirror that he cleaned up as Deo sighed. 

“Was that necessary?” Deo asks as he helps. 

“Be glad it wasn’t your face.” Purpled grumbles.

“You sound like when I first met Tommy.” Deo snorts, throwing away the glass. 

They were currently at Deo’s place, they being him, Deo, Tubbo, and Ranboo. Everyone else, whether in the group chat or Tommy’s boxing friends, was out looking for him when they realized that Tommy abandoned his phone at his house. 

Wisp had checked, apparently knew Tommy’s family which was news to all of them. Tommy never mentioned it before, but granted, Tommy never talks about anything. 

Which isn’t great, having a potential suicidal kid alone somewhere was likely trouble no matter if said kid swore off any attempts because apparently, they couldn’t trust him to hold his word anymore.

Not that words were even used with him anyway! Fucker never talks period!-- 

…

.

.

Okay, maybe his anger is getting too far but his point still stands. 

He wasn’t even allowed to go help look for him because apparently he needed to cool down or whatever! Hannah was worried he was going to punch him or something which is entirely untrue! He never did the hitting, Tommy did!

Not that Tommy would ever hurt him– physically that is, mentally, Tommy’s been dragging him down the drain for the past few years, willingly though. 

“You done grumbling over there?” Tubbo asks, hands dancing across a laptop as he..well, searches for something.

“No.” Purpled crosses his arms and flops onto the couch.

“Grumbling is better than breaking my mirrors, which is bad luck by the way.” Deo hums, scrolling on his phone– on Amazon actually, looking at mirrors.

“I’ll apologize when I’m done being angry and actually feel sorry about it.” Purpled mutters. 

“Glad you understand sincerity.” Deo snorts, fixing his sunglasses. 

Everyone in this room is drenched with worry. 

They may be good at pretending but Purpled could see the way Tubbo’s hands shake as he types on the keyboard and how Deo taps his foot insistently or how Ranboo continues to pace.

And as much as Purpled is pissed, he’s absolutely terrified. Terrified of losing another brother, of losing the one thing that protected him for years. 

Because for a long while, Tommy was all he had before everyone else came along. Before Eryn, before Hannah, before Wali, and Charlie, and Quackity.

And sure, Tommy might be a stress factor but Purpled is willing to bet that he was a stress factor too. If Hannah was anything to go off of. 

Hannah went looking too, but she hadn’t been texting much, she’s likely freaking out about it all despite being the quietest when everyone did freak out. Hannah was a big stickler for rules and keeping promises and because they didn’t want to worry her, didn’t want her to break down like a year ago, they listened. 

Which is why, when they find Tommy, because they will, Purpled wouldn’t be yelling at him, Hannah most likely would as would Beau and Tubbo and Ranboo and literally everyone who found out. 

Though, maybe they were in over their heads with all these suicide talks and drug abuse and violence. For once in all these years, Purpled was tempted to tell an adult.

“Should…should we involve an adult?” Purpled eventually mutters. 

“I was..thinking that but I don’t think Tommy would appreciate it,” Tubbo mutters.

“At some point, you gotta forgo Tommy’s opinion.” Deo looks at them. “Especially when it starts hurting you.”

“I mean, I guess, but then we risk hurting him.” Ranboo bites their nails before being promptly stopped by Tubbo. 

“But it’s hurting us too.” Purpled sighs. “When we find him, we’ll talk about it.” 

“When we find him?”  Deo raises an eyebrow. “How do you know he won’t run off forever?" 

“Because who in this group would let him disappear without a word?” Purpled deadpans. “Plus, I doubt he would try and off himself again, there’s a reason why he does it without us knowing.” 

“Because he doesn’t want to see us crying or worried.” Deo nods along. “Which is stupid, dead or not, we’d still cry.” 

“Well, statistically, if 90% of people knew they were loved, they likely wouldn’t have committed suicide,” Tubbo states matter of factly. 

“Is that even a real statistic?” Ranboo looks at him.

“Probably more of an assumption, not like they could do field tests on it. That would be pretty fucked up” Tubbo snorts. 

“How did we get to this conversation?” Deo huffs, semi-amused.  

“Because we’re worried and don’t want to keep being worried.” Tubbo sighs before staring at Purpled. “You two met in middle school, right?” 

Purpled nods. “Yeah” 

“How did you become friends? If I recall, neither of you seems like the friendly type.”  

“I got bullied, he wanted someone to punch.” Purpled shrugs.

That was their friendship boiled down in the end, two people who only interacted due to bullying only to be attached by the hip in the end.

“That sounds…like you’re leaving a lot out.” Deo stares. “Tommy used to say he was a dick throughout middle school, wouldn’t you have been a silver lining?”

“This is Tommy we’re talking about, if there was a silver lining with all my sarcastic quips then he wouldn’t say anything about it. As far as I’m concerned, he only remembers beating people to a pulp, me being a random spectator in it wasn’t memorable.” 

“You didn’t fight back? You’re really active, no?” Ranboo tilts their head.

“Now I am, beforehand I avoided everything and anything that hit me. As Tommy would say, it’s trauma, innit?”  Purpled huffs, mimicking that annoying British accent.

Suddenly a ding rings out and everything is quiet as they all check their phones. 

Wisp 

Found the idiot, heading to Deo’s house now. 

Well, here comes the yelling.

Chapter Text

It was a flower viewing hosted by the school. She was admiring the paper cranes catching on the wind, filled with wishes. Her own was cradled gently in her hands, a childish wish on its wings. 

I want to make friends. 

And as the wind carries it away, she turns to leave, bumping into two blonde-haired boys. They help steady her, and they both introduce themselves.

“Purpled”

“Tommy” 

She smiles. “Hannah” 

—----------------------------

—-------------

—----

–

Hannah didn’t have a lot of friends leading up to high school. She constantly moved from place to place due to her parents’ work, so even when she did make the occasional friend, she would leave before anything was set in stone.

Maybe that’s why she stopped attempting to befriend people, why she stopped trying to make her presence known. 

Maybe that’s why she was so happy to be accepted into the academy, because then she couldn’t be moved anymore. 

Truly, that’s really the only thing she remembers when she received that acceptance letter, amidst her father’s bragging and mother’s gloating. She didn’t have to move anymore, didn’t have to struggle being the new kid every few months, didn’t have to wait a while to decorate her room because they wouldn’t be leaving. 

It was bliss but still as damning as all the other times she had moved schools. She was still a nervous wreck, but at least she wasn’t a new kid anymore. 

Making friends was still as hard as ever, though, and though she tried, those snobby rich kids always made fun of her stutter. It’s probably why she gave up trying to talk to kids in her classes until that day at the flower viewing event. 

The school had bought a view where some cherry trees were blossoming and invited kids to go see it, really, she only went because her mother was bragging about her brother to her wine friends, and she didn’t want to be there for that.

They offered them paper cranes when they got there; apparently, it was a tradition at that particular venue. She wrote what she later regards as a stupid wish, despite it coming true anyway.

Which led to a whole whirlwind of a friendship and waking up every morning worried that they didn’t make it through the night.

It was…unhealthy of her to stay up all night making music and waiting for a random text or call that would let her know if her friends were off the deep end. But she care, and it was her folly for most of her life. 

She cared and just wished that others would do the same, would look at her and care just as much as she did.

But, she could never voice that particular want, not when people had it worse than her, not when Tommy and Purpled had it worse than her.

Because even though she was being ignored, at least her parents never hit her or did anything besides mean comments. 

Even if Miss Puffy stated that she shouldn’t be thinking that way, and that “Everyone goes through things that shouldn’t be compared.”

It didn’t make her change her way of thinking, but she did start keeping it to herself, even though bottling things only made it worse and she…

( “I can’t take it anymore!” 

She kneels in the rain, a sob escaping her lips.

“Hannah!?” Two boys shout and crouch in front of her, panicking.

“What happened??”

“What’s wrong!?” ) 

Excusing her mental breakdown that one spring — which those boys did not and were always with her ever since, to the point that it felt stifling sometimes— she was fine with the way she was going. 

But she wasn’t going to be if a certain SOMEBODY keeps going off the deep end, not telling anybody! Worse yet, making the people who did know keep a secret about it!

It’s bad enough that he tried to off himself at least once, but now they find out that he tried again?! And, who knows which was first?! 

Did he lie to them about not trying again, or had he tried before and they caught him during his second attempt?!

All these questions that won’t be answered until they find Tommy because the coward went and ran off instead of owning up to what he had done. 

She got the text from a random group chat she got thrown in that they couldn’t find the idiot, and now she had to throw on her shoes in the middle of the evening to go join the search before things get violent, before Purpled got violent. 

“Hannah?” A familiar voice calls out.

She turns to spot her brother, Boomer, standing by the bottom of the stairs, a confused look on his face. 

“Where are you going?” He asked. “We’re supposed to have dinner together.” 

Hannah hesitates for a moment. Boomer was technically still in middle school; he didn’t need to be traumatized by the knowledge that she was going to go look for her suicidal friend. 

“I need to…help my friends with something.” Hannah smiles, more so to hide the tremor in her voice that usually exposed her as a bad liar.

“But! Mom said you needed to be present!” Boomer pouted. 

“ Yeah, well, she says a lot of things when she’s drunk,” Hannah grumbles to herself for a moment. 

Boomer tilts his head at her, and she smiles like she had said nothing at all.

“Will…will you be back before dinner?” He asks, fiddling with his hands.

Hannah winces, who knows how long finding him would take, and if they find him in the midst of something like that again, then she likely won’t even return home. And, well, she’s not going to lie to placate him, cause that will only end up in a yelling match between her and her parents about lying to her brother again. 

Though she’ll likely get in trouble for making him upset…

Ah, if it’s a lose-lose, then she’ll spare him the feelings of being lied to. 

“Most likely not–” Boomer makes a whine-like noise- “--but! But! We–we can have breakfast together tomorrow if you’d like…” 

Boomer seems to think about it for a moment before nodding softly. “Could…you make me pancakes?” 

She smiles. “Anything you want,” 

Boomer smiles back. “Okay.” 

She leaves after, surprised that he was so easily placated, but then again, she never really spent that much time with him. Was he lonely?

AGH– she can’t afford to think about this right now, she needs to find that dumb blonde wherever the hell he disappeared off to. 

Though, where did she even begin to look? She wasn’t Purpled, who knew where he liked to hide, nor was she Deo, who owned a car and could look fast— two people who she later learns weren’t allowed to aid in the search, Purpled would probably punch him anyway.

But she wanders places she knows he likes wandering. The park, the bridge, fields, alleyways, and even after an hour had passed, no one found anything. 

What she did find, though, was a pink-haired man sitting on a park bench with a bag beside him. He was familiar in a way that she couldn’t quite place. 

But she must’ve been familiar too because once he lifted his head, a flash of recognition shot through his eyes. 

“...You’re that girl Tommy drew…the picture on his art room wall…” The man said, and suddenly it clicked. 

This was Tommy’s brother, the one she always saw in photographs on the wall on the rare occasions she’d go upstairs to Tommy’s room. 

“You’re…Techno…right?” Hannah says rather hesitantly, she doesn’t think that Tommy ever said which brother had come home, but she doubts the other one would’ve with the things she’s heard about him. 

“You’ve heard about me?”

“Vaguly, Tommy mentions you every once in a while.” Hannah shrugs.

“I see…at least I’m worth a mention.” Techno chuckles, fumbling with what Hannah now recognizes to be a fencing bag.

“Have...you seen him at all?” Hannah tilts her head, though she wasn’t expecting much. 

“No. Wisp mentioned he had run off.” 

Hannah blinks for a moment before remembering that Wisp was one of Tommy’s skater buddies. “You know Wisp?”

Techno leaned back against the bench he was sitting on. “Mhm, an old fencing rival of mine before he had quit, not sure why though.”

“I see…”

There’s an awkward silence for a moment, and Hannah almost goes to say goodbye and just walk off, but the older speaks up first.

“Does he talk to you?” Techno blurts out before wincing. “Apologies, that feels..pushy?” 

“No, no– not at all! It’s understandable considering it’s him we’re talking about.” Hannah chuckles a bit forcefully before sitting down next to him. “It depends on the day, but usually he does.” 

“How…how do you get him to say anything? He’s so silent with us…”

Hannah shrugs at that. “We don’t get him to do anything; if he feels comfortable, then he talks.” 

“That’s it…?”

“Mhm.” 

Techno leans forward and presses his face into his hands for a moment before sighing loudly and sitting up. “Do you…have siblings?” 

She nods. “A younger brother.” 

“Do you…can you recommend activities or something? I don’t think we have much in common, so…” 

Hannah could relate to that in a sense, while she wasn’t necessarily distant from Boomer like Techno was to Tommy,  they definitely didn’t have anything in common, she’s like, a hundred percent sure that Boomer doesn’t even know what an audio mixer is. 

“Well…I can’t say that my brother and I are particularly close, but do you need to do something you guys already do? You could try to find something in common, or you can make something. Tommy already likes cooking, but you could do other things. He likes Minecraft.” 

Techno thinks for a moment, or at least she thinks he’s thinking, before getting up. “Thank you,” and then he walks away without another word. 

She could probably file that into one of the weirder conversations she’s been a part of. It’s a good thing it ended, though, as she just got a text from that random chat she was thrown in.

Wisp 

Found the idiot, heading to Deo’s house now.

Good, now she can go yell at him for breaking his promise like the idiot he is!

Chapter Text

What did sorrow look like?

Was it the same as pain? Or maybe despair? Was it a feeling of agony? That dread that clogged your throat and squeezed your heart until your mind tells you all the desperate thoughts inside its head?

Was it nothing but black as the artist perceived it? A hand reaching high into whatever light it could see as if that would be its saving grace. It’s it a loud uncontrolled sob in the form of a song? Is it childhoods taken that made you exhausted in a way you weren’t allowed to explain?

In a way he wasn’t allowed to explain?

Wasn’t he young? Wasn’t he supposed to be filled with that energy that was unexplainable to the tired adults watching? 

Instead, from the moment he first picked up a crayon, he had been filled with sorrow. Slowly, like a bowl set to catch water from a leak, forgotten, never to be emptied long after the leak had left. Filled with dirt and bugs, and slowly festering mold. 

A forgotten boy in the storage room of a house. 

A forgotten boy in the corner of a hospital room. 

A forgotten boy in the middle of a picture frame, sat in a woman’s lap as ink ruined both of their faces. 

The very first time he had tried to draw those flowers, the ones in the garden, her garden, it hadn’t been in that room. It had been just outside that window, attempting to draw back to life the slowly wilting flower. 

A boy with brunette hair, someone he was related to, a brother…came along, trampling his hands and charcoal. 

That boy mocked him for anything, as if the mere thought of him existing ruined his day— his life— and in a fucked up way, it did. 

“ A family only needed two children, why did you have to come along!? You made mom sick!”

There were parts of him that used to argue back, claiming he had no choice in the matter. Sometimes it rang in the deepest parts of him, the desperate wail of “I didn't ask to be born”. An unfortunate matra that carried through his life, cradled in his mind as if that piece made his entire being, as if that was all he was. Bad luck, a storm that ravaged a family. 

Eurus. A god of the east wind, not complete without the others, easily overshadowed by the better. A savage god that sailors feared for he brought storms that stirred up the sea.

And Thomas had done just that, stirred up the boat that had the name Watson carved into it and almost drowned the captain. 

The first time he had gone into the storage room, the brunette boy had been crying to their grandparents after having been trapped in it. It had only been for a few minutes but the boy had panicked, crying about how only filthy things—old things– monstrous things dwelled in there and with a quiver of his lip, was whisked away to have hot cocoa by the fireplace. 

His mind had been made up then, if only monsters dwelled there, then wasn’t he a perfect fit? The quieter strawberry-blonde of the house read all sorts of books that he stole from their father’s study, and told him all about murders from a mystery book. 

And murderers were monsters as he was told. So, in his eyes, since she was dying because of him, wasn’t he a murderer too? Wasn’t he a monster? 

That was all it took for him to creep in there the first moment he got, broken charcoal and papers in hand. 

It was scary at first, it was dark and he didn't know where the light switch was. He tripped over old things, dirty things, but never monstrous things. The only thing that greeted him was the loudness of his own breathing. 

He wandered that dark room until his eyes had caught a soft light coming in, a vent blowing a dusty blanket just enough to show a window that had been there. There, standing in the soft, fading light of the window did he realize…

…this was not a place for monstrous things, no. It was a place for forgotten things, covered in blankets and dust, waiting for the day they could see the sun again while begging for their creator to answer them just one question, one desperate need to know. 

If they were made to be forgotten, then why were they made at all?

The first time, the truly first time he had tried to take his life, it had been by the bridge. It was cold, and wet for there had been a thunderstorm prior to him heading out that night. He recalls it was still drizzling.

He didn’t really remember what ticked him off that night, maybe it was being alone in that house for so long, or maybe it had been the sight of some other family, happy and cheerful, but he had passed that bridge,saw the deep fall and just thought…

“I could make it look like an accident,” 

One slip, one abrupt movement against the slippery railing and he could be recounted as a careless kid, a caution tale to mind your footing and be careful in the dark. 

Hell, maybe someone would raise a question of underage drinking, drive a narrative of idiotic youth across the neighborhood until he was no longer known as Thomas but as that one dumb kid at the bridge with a memorial leaned against it where flowers get trampled and a picture of him slowly fades. 

And there would be a sign, a promise that he was in God’s embrace, a warning to walk safe, a cross carved with a plea, words that get taken by the next person looking to use the sign as a blanket to sleep in the cold night of some dirty alley. 

And as he sat there contemplating what he could do, what he would be, his hands had dialed the brunette to ask him a question he hadn’t thought of, a why perhaps, a sob, a loud declaration of sorrow to show him that he was right, that a family only needed two children to be perfect.

But the brunette hadn’t picked up and all he was left with was…nothing. His mind finally stopped and all he could feel was this sereneness, that everything that was said to him was void. 

But it quickly filled with dread as he looked down, hands wet for reasons that didn’t involve the rain as he stared at the one thing he would be. 

A statistic.

Yet, just as he was able to convince those clammy hands to let go, someone had wrapped tightly around his midriff and wouldn’t let go, a soft scraping against the paved ground. Someone had been foolish enough to try and anchor a storm. 

And that person had happened to be Ranboo, shaking in their metaphorical boots, cheeks already starting to redden from the continuous drops of rain splattering against them.

He was pulled down before anything was said, before a plea, a question, a remark. Just pulled down and held like he’d disappear if they had let go. 

How sickening to know that he would’ve. 

They must’ve sat on the pavement being drizzled on for quite a while, enough silence to fill a moment of it. They were never that closed before, sure, they had gotten over their differences but it wasn’t like they suddenly were best buddies. 

And yet Ranboo started crying for him all the same, shoulders shaking as their hands clunched tighter to him.

“Do you think I have a purpose? Was there a point to my creation?” 

He had whispered to the air, the very winds he was told he would waste. 

“ Why do you speak as if you’re not human? What creation? You weren’t crafted from particles or fabric, you were made from loving souls.”

Ranboo had whispered back to the ground, the very thing that limited him, the very thing he was deserving of.

“ So why do I feel so displaced?” 

Ranboo hadn’t said anything to that sentiment and they continued to say nothing as an umbrella got picked up. 

That was the first time he ever slept over at Ranboo’s house where a promise was formed not to say anything, for Ranboo didn’t even know how to tell the act they had witnessed.

The second time he had attempted to take his life, he had decided to do it where he knew no one would check. 

His own house. 

But not in the more stereotypical places like his bedroom or the bathroom where he knew someone would go running first but in the kitchen with shaky hands as he carved one too many lines into his stomach.

Fear was ever the more prominent in that moment, and like a child begging for their parents as thunder slammed against the window, he had called his parents, a group call. 

His fate was always set though, forever a string to be forgotten, and neither adult picked up. He cried, alone and staining the kitchen floor. 

He doesn’t know how they came that day, how they knew, but despite the thunderstorm, despite the kitchen island hiding his limp body. Two soaked teenagers had burst through that front door and slipped and slid right up to him. 

Purpled in all his anger, and Hannah in all her anxiousness. 

The rest of the night was a blur of Purpled putting pressure on the wounds, Hannah on the phone with the only adult who could help. 

Ponk had arrived that evening, medical equipment in hand and a worn white hoodie that got stained almost immediately. 

It was one of his first acts of selfishness that he committed himself when he begged them to keep quiet, despite how all of those could cost Ponk his livelihood. 

But they did, if only to keep him alive.

And he has been fine china since then, easy to break with just a tap, but easy to keep safe in a cupboard that made up every promise he made. 

To never do it again, to never hold another razor, to never walk alone by a bridge, to never hide those thoughts again. 

And he never spoke out loud again. Of course, that was dramatic, he could speak, and had done so on several occasions. But when his thoughts turned to ones he stuffed away, his mouth seized up, like the very instinct he had spent so long trying to stop, trying to finally be silent, had stopped. 

Those flood gates have finally opened though, even if the tape on his mouth hasn’t quite been removed, and he doesn’t know what to do. 

He has never braced his own storm before, always caught up in the eye of it all, eerily calm as destruction laid around him. The start, but never held responsible til now. 

He can’t paint over this, nor could he spin his words, nor could this story end. It was not allowed to end, no matter how many years it took.

From his addictions, to school, to his art. To those who saw, he needed to show them the end.

But as the silence drags on when they walk Shroud home, and continues when they ride in Wisp’s mustang, up until they make it to Deo’s door. 

A place he found comfort in was slowly being turned into dread and his sorrow painted the path forward. 

How do you breach the topic of suicide? How do you tell someone you're hurting? How do they respond?

How do you tell them that I broke all of our promises not because I don’t love you but because I do not love nor respect myself . Because all he’s ever been was an extra child to a family of four, and no amount of motherly forgiveness will ever change that. 

As he walked in— pushed in by Wisp— all he could see were all the people who ever knew him and knew that whatever was going to go down was going to break him.

The storm he started, the sorrow that overfilled, the charcoal that stained his hands.