itch (DreamSMP)

chapter 8

"Tommy, do you know what touch-starved means?" Ranboo asks.

Tommy scowls, "Did I say you could speak?" Ranboo stares at him. Tall prick.

Tubbo sighs. "Tommy, do you know what touch- 'touch-starved' is?"

Tommy turns to his friend, "Why, no, Tubbo. Sounds terrible, what is it?" Michael's rotund head bumps into Tubbo's elbow repeatedly. The brunette let's the little lad do it.

"Means you're clingy." Tubbo replies, and Tommy remains rooted to his spot pressed into his side while he protests. "Am not! Fuck you, Ranboo!" Tommy says, whipping around to glare at the boy.

Ranboo has that expression on his face that screams 'I'll kill you' as he sips herbal tea. "N-no, it basically means you're all sad because you don't get touched enough." Ranboo explains.

"I'm sixteen." Tommy admits, pretending he doesn't understand, and ignoring the twinge of dread rising in his gut at the implications. "Boo, you really need to get better at phrasing things." Tubbo tells his husband, as Ranboo rubs his temples. Jesus. Poor guy.

"I mean that your body needs physical touch, hugs and crap, so when you don't have enough of that you lack a lot of endorphins most people have." The tall prick rattles off the definition, and Tommy squints at him. He knows this by heart. He ignores the increase of despair while he begins to realize where this conversation is going.

"You know a lot about this." The blond points out, sniffling. Ranboo only slightly tenses, big eyes fleeting. "Yeah well, it's something I had to deal with. Have to."

Tommy shifts, moving to look away. Tubbo hums gently as Michael dangles his head off the edge of the couch. Well, he did say they were all a bit scuffed in the ol' 'ead, didn't he?

"Okay, what does that have to do with me?"

Ranboo laughs, bitch, lightly and warmly so that it tickles at Tommy's cheeks. "It's just, I thought maybe you have to deal with it too. If you need help." Oh god, no the intentions are straightforward now. Ranboo seems a bit nervous, and Tommy is terrified to realize how much he wants the unspoken offer.

Tommy had always had.. an odd relationship with touch. In the beginning, he had used and received it alltogether, whether it was light shoves or pats on the back, or a side-hug. Slowly enough, though, he'd felt himself distance, especially after exile. During both banishments he had shied away from touch, though even more so after Logstedshire.

Tommy hadn't necessarily noticed it, more subconsciously dismissed any attempt to give or get touch. He knew though. How much he missed being hugged by another person, feeling the pressure and warmth and- sometimes he'd curl up and shove a pillow against his side to fill the emptiness. It really was pathetic how much he both chased and bent away from anyone trying to touch him.

It was different, after prison. After Wilbur. After death. He winced at sudden touch, at fists and hands coming near so quick, but. Tubbo was different too, he pulled him in close, hands and body in sight as he hugged him. Maybe it was because Tubbo knew how it was, to flinch and fear and hurt.

Ranboo was like that too, he noticed. Gentle, worried, knowing. It killed Tommy to know how much they both knew. They both know Tommy is sick and disgusting for pining after closeness and pushing it away in favor for bitterness and rejection. It stung and itched to know Ranboo and Tubbo were nothing like him, but all alike just the same.