DSMP Angst One Shots

You Matter More than Me

TW- SELF HARM, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, EMOTIONAL ABUSE, and ABUSIVE PARENTS. 

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WILBUR POV-

"You actually made me believe I mattered. Go to hell Phil," I muttered.

Phil stood there, looking down at his feet. I could tell he didn't know what to say. He really fucked up this time. He told me that I mattered, and then turned around to talk shit about me. 

"Go. To. Hell. Phil," I growled, trying to keep my eyes from watering. He wasn't fucking worth that pain after all. 

"Wil, please-" he pleaded. 

"Phil, fuck off. I can't do this anymore," I cried. I stormed out of the room and slammed my door. 

I couldn't do this, not today, not fucking today. I woke up today, and actually felt okay. I wanted to live a little today, is that so much to ask for? Apparently so; I guess nothing matters to him anymore. He was supposed to be my father. He was supposed to be there for me when I was having problems, and help me get back to my feet. Instead, I was shoved into the mud and stepped on. I truly know how much he cares. 

I cried and cried, hoping that I would just die. Is that so much to ask? I want to die, but I don't even have the energy to kill myself. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Keep living in this hell? I can't do it. The one person I trusted, the only fucking one, threw me away like the trash I am. 

I laid on my bed, hoping for anything to happen. I just needed an escape. Please. 

Suddenly, my phone started to ring. I picked it up to see Tommy calling me. I sighed, knowing that I was going to have to pretend to be okay. My head was pounding, but Tommy doesn't call me without a good reason. 

"Hey Tommy," I managed, trying to sound normal. 

I heard sniffles in the background. "Hey Wil," the voice squeaked, "Sorry for bothering you. You didn't really have to pick up."

"Tommy, don't ever say that. You are worth it, so incredibly worth it. So, what's going on?" Suddenly the screams in my head were gone, and Tommy had my full attention. 

"Well," he muttered, "can you come over? I need help."

I smiled, knowing I would get away from Phil. "Of course Tommy, I'll start heading over there now."

I tried to breathe and headed out to my car. I said nothing to Phil and started heading over to Tommy. It was around 11 pm, so something must've happened. 

Eventually, I made it to Tommy's house. I rushed in the door, seeing his parents weren't home, again. They were never home. I rushed up the stairs into his room. 

As I opened the door, I saw him lying curled up in a ball on the floor. I said nothing and picked him up off the floor. I saw him wince, and tears pricked my eyes. He did it again, huh? He really did. 

I carried him into the bathroom and rolled up his sleeves. Bleeding cuts were running up and down his arms. Some were even white in places. It was hard to look at, but I needed to. I quickly grabbed some bandages and started to wrap his arms up. Tommy winced and tried not to cry, but he was obviously in a lot of pain. 

When we were finished, I stood up and motioned Tommy to follow me down the stairs. "Tommy, what happened?" I asked softly. 

"I... well... I relapsed. I was doing so well. My parents yelled at me again and just left. They didn't even apologize. I'm sorry Wil. I really am," he stammered, sobs breaking his voice here and there. 

"Tommy, hey, there's nothing to apologize for. That's just what you instinctively go for. We can try therapists, coping mechanisms, anything. I am willing to do anything to help you," I said softly again, trying to keep myself calm. 

Tommy looked up at me with big eyes. "Really Wil? It's that important to you?"

"Of course Tommy, you are practically my little brother. I would do anything for you," I smiled and stood up. I brought Tommy out to my car, and we hopped in. "I promise Tommy, I'll protect you. I will try to help you as much as I can."

Tommy slouched in the seat and smiled. We both decided to play (and repeat) Mask and Roadtrip by Dream. They were amazing songs and the perfect thing for what we needed. 

We pulled into my driveway and hopped out. Not even taking notice of Phil, I waltzed inside and grabbed some food to start cooking. Tommy looked practically like skin and bones. I needed to get something in both of our systems. 

Eventually, I had a small plate (each) of pancakes and some biscuits. I was relieved to have someone else in the house besides Phil. I couldn't do that today, especially with everything that had happened. 

I placed the plate in front of Tommy and sat down across from him. Like a hungry dog, he tore into his food and nearly finished the plate in a minute. "Jesus Tommy," I laughed, "you might throw that up later." 

"Mmmm," Tommy said through a mouthful of food. I laughed and took my plate over to the trash. I actually hadn't even eaten anything, I just left my plate empty. I was starting to gain weight again; there wasn't really any point in eating anymore. I just needed to take care of Tommy. That's it. I don't matter. Only Tommy does. 

(947 words)