a locket of self desire

the walls closing in

CW: extreme stress, ableism, discussion of ideals of a 'proper household', discussion of the idea of the promotion of celibacy, disccociation, self harm (mentioned), tics (action), tics (description of feeling), small breakdown

Home becomes busier than it has in months, and it's starting to get on Tommy's nerves. There's so much action and noise. Since the whole 'Ranboo has a sister thing' happened, the house has been extremely busy. Paperwork is across billions of different surfaces and Phil spends the majority of his time on the phone.

It's a good thing, it means they're figuring out Ranboo's stuff and hopefully getting him what he needs, what's best to him.

But it doesn't make the home environment any less loud, any less stressful.

Tommy's frazzled just being here and a big part of him feels guilty admitting that.

"Wow," Tubbo says, "you weren't kidding about the paperwork."

He stares at one large stack on the kitchen counter.

"No," Tommy sighs, "no I wasn't." He grabs two glasses from the cupboard, pouring out water for him and Tubbo. Ranboo's at therapy, so he isn't around.

That's another thing that's started with all of this going on, Ranboo heading to therapy more frequently. He's been going practically since he moved in with them, but now he's going twice a week instead of once.

It's good he's getting the help he needs.

Phil's on the phone upstairs, having picked them all up, dropped Ranboo off, and headed straight up to make a call.

He must have forgotten to close his door, because Tommy can still hear bits of his conversation and it's enough to pull him away from Tubbo's next words.

But then he catches sight of Tubbo's expectant gaze and blinks quickly, shaking his head.

"Sorry, Phil's call was distracting me."

Tubbo frowns, "huh?"

Tommy nods towards the stairs and deposits one of the glasses of water in front of Tommy.

"All the call stuff," Tommy says, "the noise just distracted me."

"You can hear Phil on a call from here?" Tubbo asks.

"Yeah. He probably left his door open. Wait, can you like- not hear that?"

Tubbo shakes his head.

Tommy laughs lightly.

"Uh yeah, probably an ADHD thing," he admits, "sensory stuff, y'know? I can also hear like, the buzzing of fluorescents and shit like that. Lots of background noise. Shit's annoying."

"Oh okay," Tubbo says. He pauses for a second, "want to play Mario Kart?"

"Yes," Tommy agrees immediately, abandoning their spots in the kitchen for the living room.

He's hoping all of this will be over soon. Hopefully this'll get sorted and things will get worked out and the papers on the kitchen table will be gone and Tommy won't be distracted by Phil being so busy he forgot to close the door on his phone call.

Tommy preferred the house when it was calm. He does his best to search for calmer moments, calmer spaces in the chaos. He's only partially successful.

One thing that is always calming is his weekly calls with Techno. He still has those.

"How's the garden?" Techno asks, like he always does.

"The potatoes miss you," Tommy says.

"The potatoes don't have feelings, Tommy," Techno says, deadpan.