Tommyinnit Oneshots

Cigarette Burns On My Heart

        The sun was hanging down behind the neon signs of Las Nevadas. While most cities were settling down, this one was just waking up. From where he could hear from across the pond, dozens of people were running around, getting drunk and high and having the time of their lives. It was the city of entertainment, after all. People could enjoy themselves however they pleased while letting go of the past that undoubtedly dragged them down. The thing about Las Nevadas is that people who were truly happy with their lives never came. That town was filled with people hoping to find that happiness that eluded them. They would probably find it for a moment as they got lost in booze and neon, and that need for happiness would turn into an obsession.

        That was how it went for Tommy and his addiction. Instead of alcohol, women, or gambling, Tommy was addicted to the smoke of a cigarette. Whenever he got stressed, Tommy would pull out a rolled up stick of chemicals from the small paper box stashed away in his trench coat that he had sown for himself when Wilbur wanted his jacket back. Tommy would sit outside the cobblestone house he had built, sitting on the outside crafting table with a lighter putting a flame against his cigarette. Tommy would watch Las Nevadas from his seat while breathing in smoke before letting it all back out.

        Tommy had first tried the night Wilbur died. He was left on the bench after everyone had gone home, holding Wilbur's jacket in his lap. Tommy finally allowed himself to grieve with a few stray tears making an appearance. As Tommy desperately wiped them off the jacket, his fingers felt something solid underneath the fabric. Tommy pulled out a box of cigarettes and a square silver lighter. Tommy stared at the half empty pack before pulling out one of the cigarettes. Tommy thought it was disgusting after he almost choked on his first breath. Tommy continued to smoke that cigarette because he didn't want to be wasteful. Eventually, Tommy had been stressed about something, and remembered that smoking could be a stress reliever. Tommy took another shot at smoking. Before he knew it, Tommy was spending a diamond a week on a pack of cigarettes. He didn't want to be addicted, but he didn't have a choice in the matter. He suddenly now got impulses to smoke and withdrawals when he didn't. Tommy supposed he could ease out of it instead of going cold turkey, but some part of Tommy didn't want to stop.

Now, his and Wilbur's pondside house smelled like smoke every night. Wilbur never commented on Tommy's habit, and no one ever questioned the stench when they came over. Quackity had been disappointed when he caught Tommy buying cigarettes at one of the dollar stores at Las Nevadas, but Tommy came because it was closer than the village he used to go to and the price was docked down from a full diamond to one gold coin. Thankfully, Quackity didn't stop the transaction, and Tommy didn't care what Quackity's opinion on the matter was. Tommy had been pissed when he saw flyers for smoking addiction support groups in the mailbox he set up. Tommy had taken all the papers and threw them in the Las Nevadas fountain before going back home to smoke the stress away. Ranboo had grimaced when Tommy lit a cigarette at Ghostbur's memorial, proclaiming that he was toasting a smoke to the deceased ghost. Tubbo had seemed angry at this, but Tommy drowned out Tubbo's nagging because Tommy didn't care what those two thought. He had to explain to Charlie what smoking was, and he made the slime promise never to try a cigarette as long as he lived as a human. Tommy then had to explain what a promise was, but in the end, Charlie made the vow with his happy smile. Fundy had sat with Tommy once while he was smoking, the fox muttering how it reminded him of his father. Tommy had thrown the cigarette in the pond before falling to his knees as Fundy compared Tommy to who Wilbur used to be. Purpled had stopped by once with a new pack when he realized that Tommy hadn't come by at his usual time. Tommy thanked the hoodie wearer, explaining that he had been busy so he couldn't stop by. Wilbur never mentioned it.

         Tommy had put the cigarette in the ashtray that he made. Tommy sighed as he leaned back against the house. He closed his eyes as the night wind picked up. Tommy rubbed his arms with a heavy heart as he walked back into the house. Wilbur didn't say a thing about the smell of smoke coming from his once little brother.