Life Itself [Tubbo-Centric]

1

Tubbo

Tubbo

Come on dude

Pick up

Tubbo

Just talk to us man

Are you ok?

Please

We're worried

—-

Tubbo didn't know where everything started to go downhill. He thought he was happy; hell, ecstatic, even. He got his own place, in between where Tommy, Jack, George, and Wilbur lived so they could all meet up there with only a few hours drive, and Philza only lived a few hours away too. He enjoyed himself for the first months, feeling both independent and more connected than ever. Yeah, he missed his family a lot, even his sisters, but he still had visited them twice. It was a really long drive, but they usually met halfway. And at least he was closer to his friends, who he had met up with over ten times within four months, as well as some sleepovers. He loved it. His apartment was nice and fully decorated and furnished, his new office space was spacious, his streams were doing awesome, and he was spending tons of time with his friends. Everything was going well so far. For the first six months, at least.

Tubbo didn't know when the sinking feeling began. Or why. He just knew that he felt too tired to get out of bed in the morning, and that the thought of taking a shower and brushing his teeth sounded too exhausting for him. He just knew that, even on the days he could get out of bed, it was a chore to stream and difficult to laugh. He didn't even bother to use his webcam anymore. He knew he looked as sick as he felt. He couldn't always keep food or his meds down anymore, so sometimes he stopped trying. He just opted to lay in bed with his blanket tucked up under his chin and the blinds shut tightly, tiredly watching his phone light up with discord notifications.

He just sighed, ignoring the ache in his stomach and his bones as he rolled towards the wall and let his eyes close. He let his streaming gear continue collecting dust.

—

Dream: Where is Tubbo

Dream: it's hard to make lore without him

Dream: I'm kinda worried

Tommy: Idk

Tommy: prick won't reply to any of my texts

Ranboo: Me neither, I'm starting to get worried. He's living all alone now.

Niki: yeah I'm really worried for him :((

Niki: he's usually always on discord

Wilbur: Maybe he's just busy?

Tommy: with what?

Tommy: it's not like he's in college or anything

Wilbur: yeah but he did just move into his apartment

Tommy: that was nine months ago stupid

Tommy: plus Tubbo always has time to check his phone

Jack: yeah Tubbo's not ever NOT on his phone

Niki: he hasn't live streamed in more than a month :((

Ranboo: That's not like him

Ranboo: I really think someone should check up on him

George: yeah

George: me, Phil, Niki, Jack, and Wilbur all live only a few hours away

George: one of us could do it

Wilbur: I can go Tuesday

—-

Sometimes hurting himself makes things better. Tubbo didn't know the logic behind it, or the reason why it helped, but it did. It felt like a release to him. It was all the words he wanted to shout in unsent messages and random discord calls that he was never able to say. It's not like it was that bad anyway. It helped him calm down and to be able to film his once in a blue moon streams (without the face cam). He was still always so tired after though, wanting nothing but to sleep for days straight and pretend he didn't exist.

Tubbo wondered about that sometimes. What it would be like to not exist anymore. To... die. He wondered if the others would miss him. He would miss them a lot, he knew; but he would be dead, so it wouldn't matter anymore. Tubbo sighed out of dry lips, running a hand over pale skin. His hair has been falling out too. He notices most when he has enough energy to take a shower. Tubbo just didn't want to get out of bed anymore. He wanted to be able to sleep and never wake up. Maybe he wanted to be dead. He let everyone he'd ever cared about down, maybe it would be a relief for them to finally not have to deal with him anymore.

Maybe he should write a letter. Or not. He didn't know if they would care enough to read it. Should he do one last stream? He didn't know. He looked at his phone, which was still always going off but was never touched. It just sat there plugged in on his bedside table. He missed them so much. He missed them all so much but he doubted they missed him back. He felt too tired to pick up his phone and check, so he rolled over and went back to sleep.

Tubbo didn't know what time it was when he awoke next. His room was just dark as always, the blinds tightly shut and all the lights off. He had to get up. His stomach was screaming for food and his mouth was so dry he could barely feel it. Tubbo pushed himself up, legs shaking under him. They felt like lead. He already wanted to just lay back down and go to sleep, but he knew he couldn't. He walked sluggishly to the kitchen, using the walls as support to keep himself upright. He was exhausted by the time he made it to the sink, but he was dedicated to getting some water. He filled up a glass and drank it just as quickly, it was delicious. He must have drunk at least three glasses before he could stop himself. He needed food now. He lazily rummaged through his pantries for crackers, which were stale now, and flopped down on the couch, eating them tiredly. They tasted like nothing and felt like dust in his mouth but he knew he needed to eat something. Then he could go back to sleep