Work Text:
Tommy hates himself. He hates his chubby body, how his blue eyes have dulled over the years, and the acne that litters his pale skin. He hates his parents for being insistent and negligent; he despises his grandparents for playing the saint when they aren’t even saviours; and most of all, he hates the problems he sits at the roots of—the problems he caused, alone.
He hates everything.
He hates each little inconsistent pudgy part of his skin. He despises the way his eyes crinkle and reveal crow's feet. He can’t even bring himself to look at the mirror anymore; because he knows he’ll stand there for hours until everything becomes disfigured and wholly wrong.
The only part of his life he can be indifferent towards is school.
He doesn’t mind school. He simply sits at his desk and solves silly problems until he gets a letter grade of ‘A’ or ‘A*’. Then he can be content for a few moments. Until the emptiness within his veins attacks tenfold; then, he realises how pathetic he is for valuing some middle-aged woman’s opinion.
If Tommy’s life became a story, it would be a hell of a boring one.
His routine is monotonous; he made one after transferring to an online school. He has three classes; he wakes up at 9 AM and follows a simple schedule. He applies foundation and blush to make himself less dead, lies to his parents about the dark circles under his eyes being a new makeup routine, and sits at his desk at 11 AM. Then, at noon, his class ends; he does worksheets and waits until 2 PM. He attends the next class and repeats the routine; finally, he allows himself to feel a sliver of happiness at 4 PM when his final class begins.
Occasionally, a project breaks the monotony of the routine; perhaps his parents yell at him, or his summative is due; maybe an upcoming research project or some sort of job opportunity. Ultimately though: the fifteen-year-old lives a boring life. He doesn’t hate school, not really; anything’s better than public school. He’d rather endure the torture of his family over the agony of interacting with his peers, although it’s still not ideal. He is the prime example of ‘ capitalism’s bitch ’.
His social life hasn’t died—not entirely. Infact, Tommy supposes that it’s the same as before. During school, he always interacted exclusively with his teachers; the anxiety of interacting with his classmates disappeared when he talked to them over text. He exchanged numbers or Discord IDs for the sake of advice on homework assignments; and having people to call friends since his parents would report bullying if he didn’t.
He still interacts with them; from the two schools he had travelled to, he still talks to his acquaintances. Sometimes, he meets up with them and feels joy for an hour or two until the feeling switches to the bolt of frustration and insecurity that builds in his gut. They look bored; his mind wanders. Why do they look bored? Is he too quiet, or maybe he’s talking too much?
Sometimes, social capers are even fun. Especially when Tommy meets up with online friends—people he genuinely likes. People who are agnostic or atheist like himself or those who enjoy reading fanfiction. People who don’t judge based on sexuality or religion; those who have a sense of humour. He enjoys talking to them, laughing and grinning as he nudges them playfully and clings to them without complaint.
But— large gatherings have never been his cup of tea.
He hates how people brush past his shoulders. He hates how they poke and prod at his skin and hair or comment upon his appearance. He despises the way they speak for him as if they know what he wants—
“ oh, sorry, he’s just socially awkward .”
“ Tommy, smile more !”
“ Why can’t you just ask him for another glass of punch? It’s not that hard! ”
“ He wants mango juice, ” no, Sharon. He wants apple juice; stop ordering for him ! He hates talking to people but he wants his proper juice, goddammit !
The way they talk to poor minimum wage workers makes him want to cry— especially when it’s because of him . “ You’re allergic! How could she give this to you? Manager! Your employee is trying to kill my friend! ”
It irks him beyond belief.
He hates people; he hates private or public schools. He hates being in a loud, congested building with disgusting people who can’t respect personal space.
While being online isn’t the best arrangement, he’d rather endure that torture than the alternative.
Just thinking about it makes his skin crawl and his heart race with frustration and pure, unadulterated anxiety .