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Tommy developed an odd habit.
Although perhaps it's not really a habit and something more of a ritual because the nature of habits is that they happen regulary and roughly around the same time of day or week.
Tommy's not sure what his not-a-habbit-like habit is tied to but sometimes instead of doing his normal nighttime routine he instead lays on the floor staring at his phone until it's way past his bedtime.
Not that he has one. Well, he does, but it's him enforced, not his family enforced.
Then something, probably his bladder begging him to use the bathroom because he's been frozen in place for hours honestly, takes over him and he stands up.
After he's done with the whole bladder issue he forced upon himself (and seriously, his friends should quit joking about it, it's not a kink, he's not into it, he has a SERIOUS condition by the way and, well, sometimes getting out of bed is hard when you have depression and probably something else going on you're not sure about-!!!!!) he goes to bed and opens his secret gallery.
Unlike a normal guy who'd probably keep something freaky there, like fanart of his favorite characters that is just a bit too detailed to not be made for a certain purpose, what Tommy keeps there are old photos he tries not to think about too much... It's hard not to though, not when you kept yourself awake for far too long and can no longer think straight.
Not his proudest moments but his therapist did say you can't "fix yourself via the grind" so uncomfortable stuff will not just get easier on a random Monday.
...There are pictures of people he no longer talks to in there, like George for example. Or that dumb picture Dream sent him before doing the public face reveal. He doesn't feel good looking at them, wishes he could just delete them, wishes he could just think like his— like a normal person and be sure about things, know what's the right thing to do or at least commit to his own decisions.
He has always been bad with outside influence, people's opinions getting in his head and making him feel like what he himself thinks doesn't actually matter.
...He keeps scrolling.
There's honestly not THAT many pictures at all. They're also not sorted by the date, they're all renamed to justify why Tommy keeps them despite it all. There's a few pics from that Halloween stream they did with Ranboo and the others. This one is with them holding up a pumpkin with a dick in it. What's that one again? Oh. Wow that's an old one. This one is with George again where they were doing something dragging a cage around... Here's a merch drop Sapnap did. A screenshot from a Karl Jakobs stream...
At the bottom though.
Tommy smiles bitterly and his cheeks get just a little bit warm.
That's a picture of Wilbur he took when they last met. He's smiling although there are bags under his eyes like he hasn't slept in weeks.
That's a picture of Wilbur from the day before. He has some kind of stick in his hand with a little bug on it.
That's a picture of Wilbur watching a YouTube video on Linux distros with a tier list, taken by Tommy while he wasn't looking.
That's a picture of Wilbur in a definitely average pose that doesn't show off his waist and hips.
This one is of Tommy's reflection laying in Wilbur's lap while he drags his fingers through his hair streaked with paint.
This one is of them pretending to kiss while eating potato chips and a similar one but with popcorn this time.
This one was probably taken by someone else and Tommy looks like he's trying to shove his hands in Wilbur's jeans.
This one is of Tommy in Wilbur's tank top that's definitely too big for him.
This one is from an unreleased video with Wilbur trying to turn Tommy into a vampire and holding him by the waist.
This one is of Tommy flipping the camera off and Wilbur sleeping with his nose buried in Tommy's stomach with both of them on the couch in a really awkward position.
And another one of just Wilbur, this time he's sticking his tongue out and there's a cheap creeper benie from a thrift store on his head. And another of him pretending to be a corpse, the only thing visible being his legs and the rest of him out of frame and covered by an orange blanket. And another one with him pointing at fish in a small shopping center aquarium.
And another one, and another, and another.
By the time Tommy looks up from his phone it's almost 4 am. He drags himself out of bed one last time and goes to his now a lot more empty closet.
And then he takes out a small box with Wilbur's old sweater inside and wears it to bed. It's obviously nighttime and his room is so dark that even he himself cannot see shit unless he uses his phone's flashlight so there will definitely be no onlookers behind his curtained windows trying to see if he's doing anything problematic.
He curls into a small ball, as small as he can get with his height, and tucks his knees under his chin, gently inhaling the smell of the sweater. The sweater no longer smells of anything special. It smells like his laundry detergent he uses to clean all of his clothes - because obviously he needs to keep the sweater in good condition to keep wearing it so he cleans it regularly.
Instead Tommy imagines Wilbur recently forgot it at his place and it smells dirty with his sweat and the dust of his apartment and only then falls asleep.
And while that has become a not-a-habbit-like habit he actually does other things like that.
He writes sad songs, they sound familiar not because he listens to Mammalian Sighing Reflex, since he doesn't listen to Mammalian Sighing Reflex, for he is a very emotional person and he fears what that might do to him, but instead because he still remembers hearing Your City Gave Me Asthma for the first time.
He does his hair a little differently every day yet for some reason it always falls sideways into a fringe. He prefers to have his hair as short as he can get away with for this exact reason.
He rolls up his own sleeves and places kisses only on his left arm, leaving hickeys high enough so that they won't show on camera.
He licks his fingertips and drags them across his chest and stomach, pretending they're bigger and already have little divets from playing guitar for a while.
His eyes look bleak and dark, his eye bags heavy with not enough sleep and too much work. He performs for people on a stage more often than he goes grocery shopping. He poses for the camera biting his tongue when he smiles. He smokes weed and he drinks, not often enough for it to become concerning but often enough for it to be an activity that he occasionally does and not a thing he did a few times in the past.
None of his friends have mentioned it to him. He wonders if it's out of concern or out of pity. Or maybe because he's been imagining all of these things, subconsciously trying to be something, someone he can't have. And not from a lack of trying.
It's just... A lot. It all happened so fast he didn't— he couldn't— and then other issues— and the world— and then his work— and his other friends—
And then he felt like he had to keep getting better, showing up for himself and for others.
He knows he can quit YouTube, quit content creation, stop caring about what people on social media think and start hanging out with whoever the fuck he'd want, consequences be damned...
But does he really want that? And is that what's truly going to make him happy? Will wouldn't want that for him. Wouldn't want Tommy to fuck up everything he's been working towards this whole time unless that was what Tommy wanted himself and not something he'd do for Wilbur since he did promise that he'd sell his channel for him once.
And so he sleeps, wakes, eats, drags himself through the day, meets up with friends, makes content, goes on walks, writes diary entries, plays with his girlfriend, calls his mom.
He tries to do what he's supposed to be doing, he tries to do the right thing.
Yet again and again he finds himself going through those photos and falling asleep in the same old sweater. Something tangled up keeping him there, keeping him from getting over it.
He wishes sometimes for a simple answer. He wishes that there actually was a right thing to do.