TommyInnit Oneshots

to take the edge off (1/1)

what's up! sorry for not posting, been busy lmfao. the title is a lyric from the song "So Called Life" by Three Days Grace ^. this oneshot is also inspired by it lol. go listen to it! anyway, italics usually mean thinking. but first, before we go into this one shot, I want to remind you all that this is complete FANFICTION. This has no relation to the real IRL TommyInnit or other mcyt/dream smp members. ENJOY!

Tw; underage drinking + smoking, self-degradation, cussing, flashbacks, panic attack(s)

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My parents died by robbers one year ago. Their deaths were reported but were barely acknowledged. The investigation only lasted a week, and I had a choice to either stay here or pay the pills since I'm 17 or go with someone else I knew. I chose the decision to staying here. I didn't want to bother Phil, Wilbur, Tubbo and Ranboo, Dream - they all have their own problems. I could deal with my own.

Or so I thought. It's much harder to say than done. Right now, I should be streaming. I should be having fun. I should be checking my phone that's blowing up with messages from my friends instead, it's across the other side of my room.
I'm sat on my bedroom floor, surrounded by beers and burnt-out cigarettes and ashes all over. It's dark and dim in my room, and I'm chugging beers. I haven't showered in two weeks, and I've cried until I had no more tears. The beers aren't helping anymore. They won't get rid of the pain. I've tried everything. 
My stomach growls. I've barely been consuming food, just beers. And ciggerates.

I keep thinking it's my fault because of my parents' death. I was selfish, I was a coward because I didn't help. Instead, I was hidden in the bathroom. And I didn't leave until three hours. I heard them scream, I heard their cries for help. I heard them plead to stay alive. I heard gun shots. I heard my parents last and final words, and I didn't help. It's my fault. All of it. Everything is. They did everything for me, and I couldn't help because I "Didn't want to die". Well, I got what I wanted. I stayed alive, alright. But at the cost of it, my parents aren't.

I sigh when I finish my beer, throwing it at my bedframe making it break into a million pieces. I get up to go lay on my bed, but I have a massive headache and my vision is horrible because of all these drugs. Once I start to move to my bed -very slowly and not in a straight line- I pick up my phone and the notifications. I open it and open my messages.

TimeDeo 598 missed calls and 14875 unread messages

Tubbo 245 missed calls and 10674 unread messages.

Wilbur 450 missed calls and 12858 unread messages.

Ranboo 387 missed calls and 3456 unread messages

Niki 245 missed calls and 8764 unread messages.

Eret 464 missed calls and 12763 unread messages.

Schlatt 199 missed calls and 7666 unread messages

(He didn't scroll down aka: I didn't want to write anymore just imagine there's more rn lmfao)

That was over the past four months. If I respond, they'll just yell at me for ignoring them. They don't care. Nobody does. And nobody will. 

Stop acting selfish.

There are people who have worse, asshole.

Kill yourself.

They all hate you.

Your parent's death is because of you, suck it up and deal with it, pussy.

You are worthless.

I slam my head against the wall and let a tear fall. I hear my ringtone go off. 

Wilbur. Should I answer it? Before I think, my thumb taps answer. WHAT THE FUCK. I'm fucking screwed- he's going to kill me; he'll hate me for ignoring him and he'll never talk to me again-

I get scared when I hear him shout my name. It's confusing though, he didn't sound mad. Just. . . Concerned. And scared.

"Tommy!? Oh my god- Tommy! Are you okay?!"

"Wilbur?"

"Tommy! Why haven't you talked to anyone in, like, five months?!- is there anything going on?"

"I- Wilbur I'm fine-"

"Tommy, I know you're not. I'm not an idiot. Please, tell me what's going on. Tell me what's wrong Tommy."

Fucking hell- I'm such a dumbass! Why did I answer?!

"I'm coming over, Tommy."

"Wilbur! Don't!"

"I'll see you in ten minutes, Tommy."

Then he hangs up. I'm so screwed. I look and smell disgusting. I need to take a shower, I need to clean up, I need to look and act like nothing's wrong. Instead, I go in my bed and curl up against the bedframe.

My stomach growls again. Nows not the time for food. Wilbur hates me, he's coming over just to hit me, I know it. I can feel it. All of this is my fault, all I had to do is keep in touch with people. All I had to do is text people and sometimes call to make it not seem suspicious. I couldn't even do that. I always mess shit up; nothing is never not my fault. I start having a panic attack and cry. I didn't even know I could cry anymore. 

I'm sat in my bathroom, curled up in a ball against the door, muffling my cries with my hands and arms.

"Please! Don't hurt us, I'm begging you! Take whatever you want, please!" I hear my mum cry out.

"Shut the fuck up!" I hear the robber yell and a loud bang and my mum cry.

Then I hear some thumping, and my dad shout "Leave her alone! Leave us alone!"

I assume he got up and tackled the robber because there's a loud bang- not gun like.

Until five seconds. I hear a gunshot, and my mum cry out. "No! (tommyinnt's dad name)! Please don't leave me!" I hear her shout. And then, another gun shot. And my mum's cries stopped.

I'm so close to just breaking down. My parents are most likely dead, and I'm fucking terrified.

Three hours later-

I get enough courage and get up, slowly opening the door. I walk through the hallway and there they are- my parents. Lifeless bodies stacked on top of each other. Blood dried up in the carpet.

I stand there, shocked. Too shocked to move or even appropriately move.

"-ommy! Tommy!" I hear someone shout, shaking me. I blink and rub my eyes-

Wilbur, Phil, Tubbo.

"Wil?" I murmur.

"It's me, Toms. Phil and Tubbo are here too." Wilbur says softly as he hugs me.

I look over to Tubbo, he's holding back tears. Phil is the same, but he's hiding it better.

"Come on, let's get you out of here."

YOOOOO it's finally over!

1091 words