Irl DreamSMP oneshots

Each word collected added to his collage (Crimeboys)

This oneshot may contain inappropriate language and/or sensitive scenes
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Side note — This is not a reflection on Tommy's real parents! This is just a story!
Requested by: @BritishMenSupremacy
I've officially made a twitter for my writing! follow me @evbrry on twitter!
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Warnings — Mentions of past child abuse, blood and cuts from glass
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Content Creators — Tommyinnit and Wilbur Soot
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It wasn't the crash that scared Tommy. It wasn't even the glass shards that carved into his foot that scared Tommy. No, it was the punishment that scared Tommy. It was the verbal assault followed by a kick to the gut, that scared Tommy.

As the plate hit the ground and shattered, Tommy knew that was it. His body tensed and his eyes were trained onto the broken plate at his feet. Wilbur was going to kick him out, he was going to scream at Tommy for breaking the plate, punch him and tell him to leave.

It always took place like this; Tommy trying to do something nice; make breakfast for someone he cares about but something goes wrong; something always goes wrong. No matter the amount of apologies that spewed from his mouth, begging for forgiveness and explaining that he really meant no harm, the punishment was always something he awaited.

His heart thumped in his ears, and he could hear his subconscious tell him: Wilbur's not going to hurt you. No matter how many times that concept bounced side-to-side in his head, he couldn't believe it; he wouldn't. He loved Wilbur and he was sure Wilbur loved him too — but he couldn't trust that he wouldn't hurt him. He's trusted before, and that trust lasted through years - and those years were filled with pain.

He had always yearned for the feeling of home. The feeling of being safe under a roof and full of warmth. And now he had it; he'd felt it. He'd felt what it's supposed to be like when you're loved, when you're wanted. Not from his parents, but from Wilbur. Wilbur, his older brother. Wilbur swooped him up and brought him to join him in his apartment. The apartment became his home.

But now his home could be taken away from him, with just the drop and smash of a plate.

The pain of the glass shards caught in his foot dragged him back to the reality of the situation. His gazed over vision returned to normal after a few blinks; the blurry pool of red was no longer blurry. A sharp gasp slipped through his lips as blood pooled at the bottom of his foot. He gasped not in pain, but from the mess.

The blood ran through the cracks of the tiled flooring of the kitchen. The shards of glass were spread across the tiles.

Tommy drew his lips into a wobbly line, lifting his head and flickering his eyes around. Wilbur was still asleep, he had to be if he hadn't heard the smash. Maybe... maybe he could clean up before he woke up and he wouldn't have to leave — if Wilbur never knew, there would be no reason for him to kick Tommy out. Tommy could stay.

Tommy dropped to his knees; tears gathered in his eyes. He shakily picked the shards off the ground, carelessly placing them in his hand. His knees were pushing into the shards below him; more blood flowed.

Tommy's eyes glistened with tears; the pain was unbearable but the punishment he'd receive from Wilbur otherwise would kill him. As seconds ticked by, the more Tommy's hands had shook, and his teary eyes blurred himself from seeing everything; as if sensitising him to the cuts on his hands and knees.

All the sobs that had gathered in his throat as he tried to remain strong, forced themselves out. The sobs were full of anguish, and in that moment, he didn't care if Wilbur could hear. His thoughts bounced around so much that he wasn't sure if he wanted Wilbur to hear him; hear him and prove to Tommy that he wouldn't hurt him, or prove to Tommy that he would.

So he sobbed; sobbed like he was crying into his pillow on a Wednesday night after his parents yelled at him; sobbed like when he had gotten a bloody nose during a fight with his parents; he sobbed freely.

"Tommy?"

Tommy's head shot up, and although his eyes are so blurred over he can barely make out silhouettes, he knew it was Wilbur.

Sobs still trembled from his lips, as tears still dribbled down his face. Tommy stilled, he watched for Wilbur's reaction anxiously. He watched for his eyebrows to dip; he watched for a quiver in his lip; his watched for a clenched fist. Instead, he saw his eyebrows furrow; he saw his lips part with a gasp; he saw his body tense.

Wilbur darted towards him, dropping to his knees in front of Tommy. Wilbur seemed to study the situation; his eyes wide with horror. Tommy closed into himself, unsure of what to do; unsure of what Wilbur was going to do.

"Toms.." Wilbur's voice was barely above a whisper, "are you- Jesus Christ..." he muttered under his breath. Wilbur reached out to grab Tommy's hands full of broken glass, but Tommy breath hitched, and he quickly moved his hands away towards his chest.

"Please- please, I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean to!- please," Tommy hyperventilated, gasping between each word, begging for forgiveness. It was a weak attempt, his father would say, and Tommy knows it.

"Shhh Toms, it's okay- it'll all be okay. Just give me your hands so I can help," Wilbur pleaded, hands out waiting for Tommy to place his on top.

It's okay, Wilbur's voice rang in his ears, it'll all be okay. And as much as the logical part of his mind knows that he shouldn't believe him, he let his heart take the lead; he placed his hands on top of Wilbur's.

Wilbur smiled sadly and softly drew one hand from under Tommy's hand, back over. Tommy watched as the careful hand picked the glass shards from Tommy's and placed them onto the floor. The tiled floor that remained bloodied. It didn't take long for all the shard to be removed from Tommy's hand, all that remained was blood stains.

"Can you stand up for me, sweetheart? I need to check for other shards that might've got caught on you," Wilbur requested softly, getting up himself and holding a hand out for Tommy to latch on to, and he did.

Wilbur pulled him to his feet softly and carefully, following Tommy's own pace. Tommy heard Wilbur catch a gasp, Tommy couldn't imagine the damage he's done to the floor. And now that Wilbur knows it, he's not going to be so soft and caring anymore, he's going to kick Tommy out as blood pours from his knees.

"Tommy.. darling, that's... okay, wait there I'm going to get the tweezers. It's going to be okay," Wilbur dropped Tommy's hand and practically ran to the direction of the bathroom.

There was that sentence again, it's all going to be okay, and Tommy thinks he can believe it. Wilbur's not worried about the floor- he's worried about him. He's worried about Tommy. He's worried about the blood seeping from his skin, not the blood staining the ground. He cares that Tommy's hurt, not the smashed plate that he'd dropped. Wilbur cares for him.

"This is going to hurt, okay? But be brave for me yeah, big man?" Wilbur crouched down so he was eye-level with Tommy's knees, he glanced up at Tommy for confirmation, and Tommy nodded.

He winced as shards were pulled from his knees, and normally tears wouldn't have leapt to eyes at the feeling of pain, but he was so emotionally drained he wasn't going to force them down. They silently dribbled down his chin.

"Be brave, be brave, be brave," Wilbur repeated encouragingly.

Tommy nodded, holding onto those words; he's got a collage at this point. He faced up to the ceiling, his eyes squeezed shut. In minutes, every shard stuck in Tommy's body was removed with a careful and steady hand.

Tommy didn't move, only watched as Wilbur stood up, all the glass collected in his hand and disposed them into the bin. He didn't move as Wilbur walked towards him. He moved as Wilbur threw his arms around him, embracing him in a hug. He moved by looping his arms around Wilbur's neck and burying his head into his brother's chest.

"It's okay," his brother whispered.

"I know," he whispered back.
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