Tommy & Tubbo || Platonic Oneshots

Mental Health Issues

This is what was going to be a short chapter for a full-on fanfic I keep trying to write but can never finish (seriously, why are books so hard to write???) so I'm posting it here because I don't think I'm ever going to get anywhere with the fanfic and I really like this chapter for some reason.
It's a modern AU where the SBI Family all have some issues, mostly from the fact that Kristin died not long after having Tommy. This specific 'chapter' of sorts takes place after Wilbur's death in the fanfic.

CW// Depressive thoughts, mentions of self-harm [?]
                        
Tommy

      I broke a plate. I didn't recall having any reason to, but I did it anyway. If anyone had asked me why, I would've told them that the plate simply deserved it. They might've given me a strange look and tried to ask me more, but eventually, they'd get bored and leave me alone. And nobody would ever know why I broke that plate. Not even me.

      Plates weren't all I broke. When I went to Tubbo's house, I broke every mirror I came across, punching them all in the centre with my bare fist. I didn't know why. They didn't know why.

      His mother didn't like me so much after that.

      When she kicked me out and yelled for me to go home, she didn't care that it was raining and I didn't have a coat - which was unusual by itself, actually. I always had a coat. Why didn't I bring a coat that time?

      The rain had gotten worse when I arrived back home. I expected to see Wilbur and Techno on the couch and Dad probably cooking dinner or something, but then I remembered that things were different now. A lot was different now.

      Techno was nowhere to be seen downstairs, so he was probably in his room. Dad wasn't in the kitchen, but I could see his silhouette outside by the back door. He wasn't standing in the rain, though.

      I need a shower.

      Everything was too quiet as I made my way upstairs and into the bathroom. Usually, I would hear Wilbur playing his guitar as I passed his room, or I would hear him and Techno arguing about something in a lighthearted manner while some obscure song from a random singer only Wilbur's ever heard of was playing in the background.

      But it was quiet now, and that was how it would stay for a while.

      Some people, before they get in the shower, like to play music. I used to be one of those people - at first, I did it because I genuinely wanted to listen to some music, but then I started blasting it at the highest volume possible because it annoyed the fuck out of Wilbur.

      That had always been funny.

      Wilbur had gotten annoyed at me for a lot of things; if I took too long in the bathroom, if I was being too loud in the car so he couldn't hear the music, if I ever disagreed with something he said, etcetera etcetera. Yet, I knew he still cared about me, and I cared about him, because we were brothers, and brothers care for one another.

      Though, me and Techno never really had a bond like that. He was so antisocial - even to his own family, except from Will - and never actually spoke to me unless it was to tell me to shut up or to insult me.

      I supposed that me and Will had a more special bond, then.

      Well, that's what I kept telling myself, at least.

      Now here I was, sitting in the shower and letting the water run down my back as I hugged my knees close to my chest. My bloody knuckles stung, but I didn't care to move them.

      I hadn't cried at all since his death. He'd always called me a crybaby if I did when he was alive. Maybe I was still trying to prove him wrong. Maybe I just didn't care. Maybe I was heartless.

      Wilbur had been like that. He'd always try to prove people wrong. He'd always act like he couldn't care less about anything. He'd always seemed heartless, but not in the way that I felt.

      I missed him. I missed him so much, and I felt like I shouldn't.

      Maybe I would die in the shower. Maybe I would find a way to drown. Maybe I would somehow starve to death, given if the only other two people left in my family forgot about me for a while.

      Maybe I would see Wilbur again if I died.

      Would I want to see him again, though?

      Maybe. Maybe not.

      I guess I'll never know.

                        
Total Word Count: 795