Time moves on without you. (Tommy Angst)

Day 0.

                                          this story has tw for.
s31f h4rm descriptions
5u1c1d3 mentions
5u1c1d3
insecurity
intrusive thoughts
grief
depression

beware reader! please stay healthy too ❣ and please reach out and find a hotline or someone you trust if you are dealing with harsh problems such as these

also wilbur uses he/they in this fic :D

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He takes a sip of his coke, looking directly into the camera being reminded the boy is infront of over 100,000 viewers.

"Welp, that's all for my stream with Wilbur and Tubbo! I'll see you later chat , PEACEEEE BITCHESSSS!!!!" 

He inhales and exhales after the loud remark.

"Wow tom, that line really seemed to have stressed you out." Tubbo replies to the breath in a jokingly manner.

He quickly talks back, regaining his act "Just being a big man Tubs, never done that? Ya bitch boy."

Tubbo giggles and Tommy follows along, Wilbur joins in too. Just, Wilbur is oddly more quiet.

"So do we end call?" Tommy follows up.

Wilbur sighs, "Yea sure I guess... if you want Toms."

With no comment, the dirty blonde hair boy quickly exits the call. He's ashamed to admit.
He's ashamed to admit he's tired.
He's tired of the act.
He's tired of the negative comments every time he makes some type of media.
He's tired of putting a blade through his skin day by day because of him being stupid for relief.
He's tired of being TOMMYINNIT.
Better than Tom Simons.

He stares blankly into his roof, what if he hangs by that roof.
He smiles sadly.
He could.. die.. it didn't sound too bad. Especially in this state. He was so miserable.
but.. what if he made it thro-

no. 
That's what he told himself.
Look where he is now.

He reaches his hand for the blade, his finger carefully grips on it making sure he doesn't cut himself on the tip of his finger. Tommy settles the blade on his arm and slices it. You deserve it. You are nothing. You lie to everyone. Everyone hates you. No one likes you. You are annoying and ugly and weird.

The cuts turn into 10 quickly, he just sobs at the sight of his own damage. No one could save him now.. he'd just die. He'd be a small fabric of many human lives and erased from existence. A world where he didn't exist.

It'd probably be better.

He didn't even have a reason to be depressed. It was just developed.
You are pathetic and weak.
You should just kill yourself, your fans would move on in 5 minutes.
and your friends would laugh at you.

He wanted his friends to be happy. They probably would be. He glares at a nearby mirror, looking at his cuts, his face, and his skinny body in disgust. It would be better.

He slumped over to his bed, and stares at the ceiling, waiting for himself to drift off.

one week. he could hang on.

Maybe the angels would accept him, or the devils coming to take him, he was a bad person anyway, he thought.

He closes his eyes, and pictures a new tomorrow.

one week and you won't be missed.