Living in misery. (Tommyinnit)

T H I R T Y

My bandages were itching and i have no fucking clue how to change them.

Everyone has gone out leaving me, Tubbo, and Techno here.

I dont think Tubbo knows much.

Techno doesnt know i cut.

But Techno is an adult.

I walled down the hall reluctantly to Technos room. His door was open and he was on his bed staring at his phone.

"T-Tech?"

"Heh?" He said looking at me.

"I need your help. Can you replace these?" I said holding out my bandaged arms.

"Why?"

"Well they itch and Wil is out with everyone else and i jus-"

"No why do you have them?"

"Oh. Shouldve specified that. But i think youll find out if you can come help me."

"Yeah alright. Just uh... idk go wait in the bathroom."

"Ok. Its all in the downstairs one." I explained awkwardly. He nodded and i left walking down stairs.

I sat on top of the counter and waited on him to get in here.

'This is quite a bland fuckin' bathroom.' I thought. I heard steps trudging down the stairs and a throat being cleared as the steps got closer.

"So where is all this shit?" He asked jokingly.

"In a uhm.. basket. Top shelf of the medicine cabinet."

"Ointment, bandages, tape?" He asked making sure he was getting everything.

"Uh Wil usually puts on i think peroxide?" I added. He grabbed the bottle from one of the lower shelves and came to stand in front of me. He put out his hand for one of my arms and i handed him my right one. He tore off the tape and began to unravel the bandages. Once the cuts came into view he stopped and closed his eyes for a bit.

"Shit tommy." He whispered.

"Sorry." I muttered sorrowfully. He opened his eyes and looked for a moment before resuming unwrapping my arm without another word.

While he was working i looked down at his arms. Healed pale scars lined both arms. Hundreds of them.

"You used to...?"

"Uh yeah. I had a pretty uh rough teenage years. Parents became abusive alcoholics. Phil took me in when i was around 16, 17. Cutting became my addiction. For a few years. I stopped last year after Phil found out i had been." He explained. I nodded taking in his story.

"It gets better y'know? Just takes some time. I wont sugar coat it because youll get unrealistic expectations. Its fucking rough. Recovering. It just takes time. Dedication. Distractions. The want to get better. It was so fucking difficult but i got help. I promise youll get the same someday tommy." He said. He was finishing up on my other arm. As he looked up at me. I could see the meaning in his eyes. He wants me to get better. I got teared up and had to look away biting my cheek. When did he become such a sentimental person.

He put away the things and gave me a final look before leaving, back to his room. And i sat here.

In this bland room.

Contemplating. Thinking back over his story.