Chapter Text
“Wait,” Quackity paced. They stood outside the school, stashed away in a corner where the emptying parking lot wouldn’t see them. “You sure it was Wilbur who got in the car?”
“Yeah,” Tommy snapped, “It was him, It couldn’t of been anyone else,”
Quackity leaned against the brick, his face solemn for once in his whole life.
“He got in, stayed in there for like twenty minutes and then came back into his room through his window,” Tommy explained, his hands shoved deep in his pocket, shoulders slumped.
“Did you confront him already?”
“No,” Tommy said, his voice barely audible in the wind. “But, I found this while going through his room,” He pushed a bag into Quackity’s chest, he took it hesitantly as Tommy crossed his arms, looking away.
Quackity whistled as he inspected the bag, and the contents inside. “Okay,” he drawled, “thats some grade-A coke,”
Tommy flipped the hood of his sweatshirt up, “Yeah,” He agreed needlessly.
“What do you want to do about it? Because i'm pretty sure Schlatt doesn’t give a fuck that Wilbur’s relapsing,” He said cooly, shoving the bag of drugs into his own pocket.
“I don’t know,” Tommy sighed, rubbing at his eyes, “The plan, we made, we could try that,”
Quackity laughed, “really? After ignoring it for a month, you want to go back to that plan,”
“Its the only one we fucking got!” Tommy snipped, bringing Quackity’s smile to even out.
“Have you been sleeping okay?” He asked suddenly, irrelevantly.
“Yeah–No,” Tommy blinked, his eyes heavy. “I ran out of my prescription and haven’t refilled,” He explained, tugging at his hood, “I’m fine, just– the plan,” He tried to reiterate.
“Okay,” Quackity began, but worry still swept across his features with the wind, “I’ll get Schlatt and you have to get back on good terms with Tubbo. And once you do that we can meet up sometime and hit Schlatt where it hurts,” Quackity spoke, tilting his head back against the brick, “Hopefully that’s enough to get him to stop and if its not–”
“It will be,” Tommy confirmed, eyes glazed with fatigue. “I’ll talk to Tubbo, and we’ll talk tomorrow,” He informed, turning away before Quackity could respond.
He had got to the car before Techno left the school so that was good, Wilbur stayed home because “he wasn’t feeling good,”. He climbed into the front seat, pulling his backpack on top of his lap.
When Techno did get in the car… he didn't move to start it.
“Are you okay?” He voiced, small, hesitant.
“Everyone keeps asking me that,” Tommy swallowed, ducking his head as the hood fell over his eyes.
“Well are you?”
“No,” Tommy confessed with no further explanation. He was being swallowed by anxiety from the inside out, his hands white knuckling his backpack for no explicable reason.
He bit down, his jaw straining.
Techno started the car.
-
Tommy didn’t sleep last night. He laid awake all night, strategic worrying floated along the ceiling where he traced endless shapes. He tuned out whatever would happen outside his door, it would be inevitable that Techno would go into Wilbur’s room and tell him to go to sleep.
And it never went smoothly. Techno was getting too good at taking care of Wilbur.
Anyway.
Tommy was fearing the sleep deprivation was beginning to become…obvious.
Sure his eyes burned and his head felt like a thousand pounds, but he didn’t think people could see that. See the way his temples screamed with pain and the way he had to think for a few extra seconds before answering a question.
But since Tommy left his bedroom this morning he’s gotten five comments on how he “looked tired,”. Even then, Tommy couldn’t come up with a good answer. He knew the answer, it was because his meds were running low.
But somehow he wanted to prove he didn’t need them anymore. But lately, all it has proved is that he can’t sleep on his own anymore.
He hasn’t been having his bad dreams anymore because he hasn’t been having any dreams at all. But it's fine, he says, he’ll sleep when he has time to.
Now it was Wilbur, nagging him about how he has to tell Phil. Has to do something, because he quote: “Doesn’t like seeing him like this,”.
But all Tommy was hearing was that Wilbur was talking to him again. Things were looking up.
-
“You look terrible Toms,” Wilbur worried, he was cupping Tommy’s face as gently as he could. Fingers swiping over the hollowed holes under Tommy’s eyes. It was even worse that they were at school, Tommy would swat him away but frankly, he was too tired. “Let me drive you home,”
“No,” Tommy grumbled, turning his head away from Wil and laying his head down on the lunch table. “I’m fine,”
Wilbur’s hand drifted to his back, his fingers splaying against Tommy’s fuzzy yellow sweater. (In actuality it was Wilbur’s. Tommy had stolen it yesterday when he drifted into his room while he was away at hockey practice. He wasn’t looking for drugs. But when he found the sweater he immediately put it on. The sun was so warm, its heat dancing onto the carpet. Tommy slept there for the first time in a couple days for at least thirty minutes. But when he awoke, in the cold, he felt more tired than he was before).
“You don’t look fine,” Wilbur responded and Tommy was unable to detect the tone.
“Yeah, I got that,” Tommy bit, flashing an unusually harsh smile. His eyes skipped past Wilburs and onto the rest of the lunchroom. He was looking for one person in particular.
And there he was, sitting with one other kid, stuffing his mouth full of ham sandwich, was Tubbo. Dull relief filled his chest as he stood up, “I’ll see you later,” Tommy threw in Wilbur’s direction before making his way to Tubbo.
Tommy slid into the seat next to Tubbo’s new friend, not paying him any attention, he sat waiting for Tubbo’s acknowledgement. It didn’t take long for him to look at him like he'd seen a ghost, Tommy’s faux confidence only grew.
“Hey,” Tubbo started, nervously glancing at his friend.
“Hey,” Tommy responded with the same, if not more, enthusiasm.
Tubbo smiled slightly, looking at his other friend, “This is Tommy,”
“The one that has been ghosting you?” He responded, No intended insolence, only wonder.
Tommy grew red at that, like he had been slapped across the face. “Yeah about that,” He began and half-hoped that Tubbo would cut him off and say it was okay. But, he didn’t.
“My brothers have been really–like I mean really overprotective lately,”
“And you couldn’t have told me that?” He asked.
Tommy looked to his friend, the one who was just sitting there, listening. “I’m sorry,” He said as he brought his gaze back to Tubbo. “I’m just having a hard time,” He admitted half-heartedly.
Tubbo nodded, pursuing his lips. “I get it,”
“You do?” Tommy perked up, searching desperately for forgiveness from someone.
“Yeah,” He shrugged, “I’m sorry for–”
Tommy’s stomach flipped, bile surfacing like bubbling panic, “No, no, It’s fine,”
“Really it's not, your personal business is yours,” He said simply, picking up his sandwich again to take another bite.
“Yeah…” Tommy trailed off, leaning forward on his hands. “Well, I'm sick of all that anyway, I just need some friends,” He looked between Tubbo and his new friend.
Tubbo smiled, his cheeks full, “Man, we never stopped being friends,”
Tommy smiled. He was in.
-
One thing about insomnia is that when you get tired you get these intervals of being hyper-aware and just downright fatigued. But when the oversensitivity does set in, its like you’re a fucking spy.
Tommy picked up that Schlatt was having a party at an old abandoned house from overhearing it from a couple kids who thought he was sleeping on his desk. What they didn’t know is that Tommy could hear everything they were saying.
Now Tommy was raised on the premise that you shouldn’t invite yourself to things, but this was a one time thing.
When he jogged up to Tubbo’s side in the parking lot he led with the question, “I heard schlatt’s having a party?”
Tubbo pulled his backpack over his shoulders, “Um yeah,”
“What?” Tommy asked at his sudden withdrawal.
“Nothing, it's just i'm not allowed to go, so if thats–”
“Why?” Tommy pushed, digging his heels into the non-permeable asphalt. “You’re his brother,”
“He said it was a senior only thing,”
“Okay,” Tommy drawled, “Then what if we sneak in?”
Tubbo looked around as if Schlatt was looming over his shoulder, “Well, I don’t know, parties aren’t really my thing,”
………..
Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd i'm not going to finish this BUT i will tell you what was going to happen:)
Tommy goes to the party and gets drugged, and techno finds him, reconciling their relationship.
We find out that Schlatt wants revenge on Wilbur because he screwed up his athlete career so he got him hooked on drugs.
During the big hockey game Wilbur passes out ON THE ICE and needs medical attention because he wont wake up.
Techno and Tommy attempt to fight Schlatt but for some reason he’s crying too when Wilbur won’t wake up and consequently, dies of overdose.
When Tommy eventually gets home he finds that his insomnia meds (where had had purchased more) were gone.
And we find out that Wilbur overdosed on Tommy’s meds and everyone mourns. And because I don’t believe in happy endings especially for SBI thats how it ends. :D
and the last thing Tommy thinks is
I killed him.
I killed him
I killed him.