itch (DreamSMP)

chapter 6

Cw; for crying and panic attacks.

Sometimes, Tommy cries in his sleep. It's not really his fault, he doesn't ever really remember what he was dreaming about, either. All he knows is many nights he wakes up, cold, alone, and a significant wetness on his cheeks.

Tommy usually doesn't pay it any mind, it'd have to be much worse for it to be notable, and he doesn't really have any reason to think about it too much anyway. Some miniscule, cold part of him is numb from the emptiness of air on his tears.

Its odd, when he wakes up at Tubbo's house with those same tears. They're irritating once you notice them, they burn in the back of his eyes and they're so cold sliding down the curve of his nose. The air is warm, an accumulating aroma congested in his nose.

There's gentle, bustling noise, contrasting the usual loud blundering that Tommy associates Tubbo's voice with. He's so, so warm. He keeps silent, because he doesn't like how his voice curves around his words when he's crying.

"Tommy..?" Here comes Ranboos smooth clad voice. Tommy rakes in a shaky breath. Steps come around the couch, large ones spaced out and uncoordinated. Clumsy. Tommy feels his lip wobble. Ranboo hovers over him, split colored eyes wide with misplaced worry. Can Tommy go one day, one, without constantly being so emotional?

Tommy chokes on a sob, really, the blond has no idea why he's crying, and he sits up. These past two days should've been normal, Tommy always prays for normal. But. His normal isn't normal, it's different, filled with discord and the only constant Tommy relied on. The constant fighting for survival.

Wars, exile, prison. He's never had time for normal. The only normal thing was Tubbo, and Tubbo doesn't need him in his normal anymore.

Tommy didn't want to do this so early in the morning. He didn't want to do this at all, but the most preferable time for his breakdown would be not around his best friend and said best friends new husband and child.

Tommy wills down another sob past the thick cord of tension in his throat, flattening his hand over his face and pushing past the sleep twirled curls falling in his face. "Tommy, are you okay?"

Ranboos' hand comes to rest on his shoulder blade, gentle and wonderful, and so very pitiful in the way Tommy flinches at his touch. Fucking hell.

"Thi-This happens sometimes. Fuck off." Tommy hisses, feels oddly placed heat redden his ears. The blond rubs at his face, spreading salty tears across the expanse of skin. Ranboo is kneeling by the sofa, and the concern, raw and real, etched onto his features is infuriating. Sickeningly irritating.

The clambering from the kitchen slows down, and Tommy can hear a quiet shush before he directs his attention back to the half toned boy. "No biggie." Tommy sniffs, but his breath is stuttery in a way that's unmistakably distressed.

Ranboo frowns, and, undoubtedly Tommy is reminded of Technoblades' disappointed scowl. "Do you.. need a hug?" Tommy startles, staring shamelessly at the enderman hybrid.

It's not a big deal. Tommy knows this. He's alive, breathing, healthy. (Does it really matter how he came to be that way? Does it matter why he avoids such touching so avidly?) There's no reason for him to be upset, none at all. So why does that offer sound so fucking tempting.

Tommy sobs, unabashedly and ugly, and he nods.

Tommy was unprepared for how passionately his friend engulfs him, wide and full in how he slumps forward to lean. Pressure surrounds him all at once, grounding and squeezing. Tommy melts. He falls into the sweet, almost nauseating embrace. Ranboo is so tall, and lanky, but his chest is wide and he runs warm.

It reminds him so much of Wilbur.

Tommy sounds out another taut sob. A tired slip of words pour and bubble out of his mouth on a string of emotional drowsiness. "I'm so tired. " He says, and a hand is curling around his head, so he doesn't stop. "I- I know time heals all wo-wounds. Or whatever crap," Tommy buries himself even deeper into the dark allium scented sweater. He must use softener.

"I don't- I dont know how to heal. " His voice cracks, and as much as Tommy is pouring his heart out, he's mad how random his outburst has been. He feels guilty that he's been taking it out in such weird ways. On his Friends.

"I miss Wilbur." Tommy admits, gripping to Ranboo tightly. Another hand, so expectant, so kind, slides up and down his back. Or whatever parts of it that werent covered by Ranboo's arms. Tommy missed Tubbo, so fucking much.

"We love you, Tommy." Tubbo's voice has that scratchy tack he always does when he starts crying. Tommy should've known, once Tommy starts crying, Tubbo always starts too.

"Oh dear." Ranboo says, probably upon figuring this out. Michael makes a small grunting noise, presumably as he climbs up the sofa. Tommy feels a tiny body squeeze in between the open spot between him and Ranboo, and two little arms snake around his middle.

Tommy sniffles, and burrows his nose into Ranboo's shoulder. He hates this alot. He doesn't deserve this, he doesn't deserve the same happiness Tubbo finally got. Besides, its Tubbo's family, its Tubbo's home. Tommy is happy for him. Of course he is, but some part of him is so upset hes not apart of it. Tubbo's happiness, he means.

"I hate you." Tommy says, broken and without any of the anger he tries to force. "Let go." Ranboo holds tight, even when Tommy sinks into his chest. "Let go." He sobs again, fingers tightening around the sweater on Ranboo's back.

He hasn't been hugged like this since- well forever. Ranboo is so sturdy, too, but less so in a way of softness Tommy doesn't quite understand. Made of love. Tubbo, from when the times they used to touch all the time, when touch wasn't such a significant memory everytime it happened, his hugs were softer in that way too.

Tommy feels so weak, he woke up upset for no discernible reason, and ended up crying into the tall pricks arms. His skin has a certain itch hiding beneath it, and as he's pressed closer into warmth, he finds the burning ache only a simmer.

"I don't need your pity." Tommy spits, and hes horrifyingly shaky as he shoves his face in Ranboo's soft shirt. "Are you joking?" Tubbo sighs. Tommy feels his ears burn.

"I'm fuming with anger right now, Tommy." Tubbo tells him, and Tommy turns his head to look at the brunette in bemusement. Tubbo does not look in any way angry. Ranboo's arms slacken around him. Michael latches to the front of his shirt.

The blankets around them part as Tubbo scoots forward. For a split second, Tommy is terrified, but then two wide, but small hands reach out to grab his shoulders. Another second, he wonders briefly if he's going to see the smiley faced mask again, if this sweet, lazy wooden home was all a dream. Tubbo grips his arms lightly, and then gently guides him into a hug.

For another quiet, warm moment- Tommy sits there, chin tucked over Tubbo's shoulder, breath against his nape, and his best friend curls scarred arms around his waist. Tears once again spring to the forefront of Tommy's ice blue eyes, and he's comforted by the familiar drag of weighted relief. He missed him so much.

"You're fuming?" Tommy croaks, barely. Tubbo hums, his throat vibrates against the side of Tommy's. "Absolutely."