ᴍᴇᴛᴀʟ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴏɴᴇꜱ || ᴛᴏᴍᴍʏɪɴɴɪᴛ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ.

𝟭. 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

''( tw implied self-harm, eating disorder, descriptive triggering writing. )

I don't want to do this.

That's what Tommy kept mumbling to himself as he paced around his room.

He didn't want to make that long trip to Brighton, to embarrass himself in front of Wilbur and the others, for them to figure out everything he'd been doing to himself. But Tommy didn't want to refuse for much longer, he didn't want to be seen as a bad friend. Or like he'd been distancing himself.

The blonde let out a large sigh. His backpack had still been unpacked even though he had to start the drive to Brighton with his dad in the morning. But Tommy was still too busy worrying what Wilbur would think about his ribs sticking out and the deep red slits all over his thighs, his wrists, he was busy worrying about how he would hide everything.

For now he had to get himself to pack. He grumbled, stopping his walking and sitting on his bed. His bony fingers gripped a few shirts he had thrown on his bed, and he shoved them in his book bag, they probably weren't clean but who cares. The book bag already had a couple pairs of jeans, so he deemed it enough for now at least.

Tommy scooched himself to his pillows and laid down as he opened Discord. The group chat of him and people who'd be involved in going to Wilbur had a lot of messages. Techno, Dream, Wilbur, Tubbo, Phil, Niki, Ranboo. All online. All talking about how excited they were for tomorrow morning, but he didn't join in. He wasn't excited.

He closed Discord and hugged his phone to his chest, cringing at the feeling of his fingers touching right at his ribs a bit too easily. His eyes closed and he quickly drifted to sleep, he really wasn't excited. At all.