"she plays guitar?" wilbur soot x reader

3am

tw: dissociation, sh (yes this character is fucked up, and im assuming you are too)

I have stopped drinking, thankfully. I don't understand why exactly I stopped, but I think it's for Tom. In Germany, I could drink as long as I didn't have work the next day. Here, I can drink whenever. It sucks, and is wonderful at the same time, but since the evening that absolutely broke Tom's trust, I haven't taken a sip of alcohol.

"Morning, Y/n." Tom says shooting me a smile before sitting next to me in my bed. He had given himself no-knock privileges for a week due to the evening. I didn't object, I owed him a million dollars, so this isn't the worst punishment. "Morning, Tom." I say in a groggy voice.

"I was thinking of streaming today and telling everyone to... let you be, i guess? What'd ya' think?" He says with a slight smile. "I think it's a great idea, and... I'm really sorry Tom. It was a dipshit move that I obviously hadn't thought through. I'll figure out a way to make it up to you." I say tears rolling down the sides of my eyes, as I was laying down.

Tom simply opens his arms, telling me I need to get up and hug him. This man has seen me be an absolute prick towards this whole family, yet he still hugs me as I cry. As much as I would love to believe I deserve this love from him, I know what I've done. I know I've broken our trust.

"I love you, Tom."

"I love you too... Wait, why do you always say "Tom" instead of Tommy like the rest of the world?" Tom says chuckling a bit, making the room much better to be in. "I refuse to call you Tommy. I think it's subconscious at this point. It's easier for me to remember that you're just my lil' bro and I've known you your whole life. It humanises you in a way." I say.

I've never payed much attention to it, to be fair. I noticed it a while back when he was in New York. I texted him and it made me realise how much I hated saying Tommy, because in the draft of the message I used this name, and HAD to delete it right after typing it. Weird.

We talked until we saw that it was already around 1am.

As Tom gets up and tells me to "Go the fuck to sleep, you cunt" I watch him close my door. It feels lonely as I drown back into my thoughts. I have insomnia already, so being in a bad mental state doesn't help much. I look down at my arms. I see faint, cracked and almost healed scars. "Go the fuck away." I mumble.

As I check my phone, I realise that those 3 seconds were actually an hour and a half. What the fuck. I've dissociated before, but that really did feel like 3 seconds. I want to scream, but I can't.

I get up from my bed and quickly rummage through my drawer.

Please don't find it.

I see scissors, pens, markers, but nothing to do the job.

Please don't see it.

I look up a bit to see a box-cutter on my desk.

Fuck this stupid addiction.

As I grab it, I debate whether to do it or not. I know I shouldn't, as I think of Tom and everyone else in my life. But theres the thing about addiction. It's not really in your control for the most part, but thats just an excuse, right? Another excuse used by alcoholic abusers like my father.

Fuck my shitty life.

I pull up my shorts, as I know thighs are much easier to hide, and take the first cut.

It feels like nothing, so I go for a second, and third, and fourth, but who's counting?

I put some toilet roll over the scars, as to not dirty my shorts or bed sheets, and head to the bathroom. "Hey, Y/n? I think you just started your... uhm... lady days?" Tom says walking up the stairs the opposite way from me. He looks distraught. "Yeah, that's why I'm going to the bathroom, dipshit." I'm scarily good at hiding shit.

"Oh, okay? Or is that just another fucking cover-up?" He drops his smile and looks at my thigh. I feel something roll down my leg. Shit. Fucking fuck. Fucking bullshit. Why the fuck, out of all people, does Tom have to see this. My little 18yo brother does not deserve this shit.

"I put toilet roll to catch the fucking blood, you moron." I say looking at him with a "wtfdym" look. I wasn't lying, so when he looked for signs of lying, he couldn't find any. "Can I go now? I am actively bleeding on my socks!" I say as I stare at him. He looks bothered, but he moves to the side letting me go.

——————

Tommy POV

As I get to my room, I see that someone is calling me on discord. "I'm not in the mood to talk to literally anyone." I mumble, not even loud enough for me to hear myself, but as I approach my PC I see Wilbur calling me. The great William Gold calling me at about 3am. What could he want?

"Hey, Will. What'd you want? It's literally 3am, mate." I say yawning. I was about to go to sleep.

"Hey, so like a bunch of us are meeting up in London and we were wondering if there was space for someone to sleep at yours? Also just if you wanted to come, but we all assumed you would." Will says sounding a bit tired. This absolute piece of shit was making me talk to him at 3am for this?

"Will, I would, but my sister has like JUST came home. I need to keep an eye on her." I say that and immediately cover my mouth and wake up completely. Please don't question it, please don't question it, please don't questi-

"What? Tommy, she can just come with you. Shes a streamer, right? Why not? Also, shes like 23 or something, she doesn't need an 18 year-old taking care of her. Why would she?" Will says all of this in almost an indecipherable speed. "Mhm, I'll ask her if she wants to. You know, with what happened on her stream, I don't kno-"

"What happened on her stream?" And I take that as my cue to leave the call then and there.

What just happened?

——————

i actually hate this chapter, but i kinda needed the connection to make will confused. i already know how the rest of the book will go... thats a straight up lie.

also, if you or someone you know is struggling with self-harm of any kind, please reach out for help. i made the mistake of not and spent like 3 weeks in a fucking hospital, so yeah. do that.

also, im not updating fast because im currently extremely sick and still have to do hw, like-
wth