(About 800 words)
This one shot is slightly inspired by NF's song 'If you want love'.
This is serious angst. Read at your own risk.
I actually broke down halfway through reading this searching for errors. It's just so fucking relatable, I'm sorry.
(Contains blood, self harm, suicide and suicidal thoughts.)
"Are you okay?" they usually asked.
"Yeah, I'm okay!" He always responded.
"Are you fine with this?" they sometimes said.
"Yeah, totally!" he always replied.
"Are you alright?" a few people might ask sometimes.
"Of course I am!" he always told them without hesitation.
"Is something wrong?" the people closest used to ask him once.
"Nope, just distracted," he used to always reply.
But ain't that what we all say?
He was not okay.
He was not fine with it.
He was not alright.
Everything was wrong.
When the people around him noticed him acting off, he just put on a fake smile and told them "I just needed a moment, my brain zoned out!"
He had been hurt, he had been saved.
He had hurt, he had saved.
He hurt himself, he hadn't been saved yet.
He always told himself that he would be saved soon.
Saved from himself.
Saved from the evil people in his chat, the evil people in his Twitter comments, the evil people in the crowd he called his friends, the evil people in his head.
He had told himself "Oh, Wilbur will notice it next time I see him", "Phil will realize what's going on soon", "Tubbo will ask me what's wrong and not take nothing as an answer soon enough" or "chat will notice me being off next stream."
He didn't want to ask for help.
He didn't need to ask for help.
He just wished he had known how exhausting is was, trying to resist the urge to just end it.
Because he had that urge.
When he cut something with a scissor.
When he shaved.
When he opened boxes with those small sharp knives.
When he cut bread, or food.
The urge to hurt himself, relieve some of that pain he had.
The pain from being hurt emotionally.
The pain from being mentally abused.
The pain from being physically abused.
He had to relieve it.
He had grown to think of the pain as a close friend.
It was there for him all those nights he had spent on the bathroom floor with another friend, the razor.
He liked the pain.
He wanted the pain.
But not from others.
That hurt.
He only wanted the pain caused by himself.
But he couldn't tell anyone. They would think of him as insane, mad.
And he wasn't that.
He was just fucking unstable.
He needed the hurt to leave, to vanish with all his blood.
But he also needed help, no matter how much he denied it.
He needed Wilbur to notice.
He needed Phil to realize.
He needed Tubbo to ask what was wrong.
He needed his chat to notice him being off.
He needed them.
But when they finally realized, it was to late.
It was Wilbur who found him, laying on the floor in a pool of his own blood.
It had been a particularly rough day. He hadn't meant to go that far, just wanted some relief.
But the pain wasn't enough this time.
He wanted to hurt himself so deeply, that he wasn't ever going to feel pain ever again.
And he had succeeded.
"Tommy!?" Wilbur yelled with tears in his eyes.
Wilbur took hold of the teens shoulders, covered in blood, and shook him vigorously, wanting him to wake up, and tell the older he was going to be okay.
But he didn't.
Instead, the blood poured faster out of the gap on his throat.
Wilbur started to panic, not knowing what to do.
In his panic, he somehow managed to pull out his phone and call Phil up.
"What's up, Wil?" the man spoke through the phone.
"Phil, it's bad. I need you, right now! Tommy's place, right now?!" Wilbur yelled with panic evident in his voice, fear lacing on top of it.
"What happened? Is someone hurt?"
"You need to see it for yourself, just hurry!?"
And so the younger hung up and grabbed hold of Tommy's shoulders once more as he cried.
He cried his eyes out as he sat there on the bathroom floor with the only person who he had ever felt was more than a friend to him.
He had felt as if Tommy was family.
Tommy was the closest he had ever come to real family, being there through thick and thin.
And now he was gone.
Because Wilbur hadn't thought the teen was struggling with himself in life.
He hadn't gave it a single though that he might've been only just making it.
He was gone.
Gone..
YOU ARE READING
DreamSMP oneshots
FanfictionOneshot book of the DreamSMP. Will do angst(🖤), fluff(💛) and maybe smut(❤️dunno if I am able to write that kind of stuff)) There will be ships(F.x. Dnf, karlnap) and non-ships(f.x. SBI, crimeboys) (Requests appreciated!)
