Tommyinnit Oneshots

Despite everything, you're still here and I don't know why

Memory is a strange creature. Elusive but overpowering. Some people wish to exterminate this creature, while others would do anything to get it back. This creature defines most people. It's a ghost that haunts with regret and an angel that provides sacred answers. Memory isn't even the truth, it is simply a recollection of perception. For a lot of reasons, memory is a dangerous beast, one that rivals even love when it comes to sheer presence and power. For Tommy, memory is the chain that keeps pulling him back to awareness. He could be completely out of it, lost in his own world of painlessness, when his senses would brush against something to jolt the chain into action. The once slumbering monster would stalk in circles around Tommy's mind, giving him just enough awareness to feel deja vu. When he was sure that memory had left him, the beast would pounce like a bucket of icy cold water to snap him back to the moment. He would become vividly aware of each detail around him. Panic would ensnare his heart as he remembered what was so familiar about everything. Sometimes, memory would find him when he was with people. His awareness would catch them all off guard, and his panic would make him assume the worst. He would run away, as fast as his feet could go and as far as they would take him, to find some sheltered area to fade away. He had always been gone by the time someone found him- usually Ranboo or Tubbo- and returned him home.

The worst moments were when it was a person that rode the monster. Tommy had been sitting on a bench somewhere along Prime Path when his vision was filled with chocolate brown eyes and poofy curls of a similar shade. Wilbur had placed both his hands on Tommy's shoulders, and the blonde came back long enough to remember a childhood with his older brother. He had sobbed in Wilbur's shoulder until the moments of Pogtopia shot through his thoughts like an arrow striking him dead. Instead of death, Tommy had been washed away in the waves of oblivion. There was another time when he had been walking with the Syndicate. He had tripped forwards since he never paid attention to his surroundings. This time, he fell into a person. Someone grabbed onto him to keep him from falling. Tommy's eyes snapped open when he felt something familiar in the texture of the cloth. He looked up to see the warm brownish red orbs of the pinkette who had taught him a lot about swordplay in their younger years. For that moment, all Tommy wanted was to go back to those peaceful times, but he shut down when the overwhelming sensation of knowing that they couldn't go back. More often than not, Tommy found that the person who rode the memory wasn't as bad as the beast they rode. Often Tommy found himself seeing the illuminated irises of SapNap, the sorrowful confusion of Callahan, or even the stubbornness that was locked on Ranboo's face as he tried everything to keep Tommy there even though Tommy relinquished that responsibility from him.

No matter the case, Tommy was keeping his lucidity at bay. Days would fly by without him coming back even once. He was sure that he had passed hands several times. Ranboo really was trying even though Tommy didn't need him to. Tommy knew that he was being a pain by staying locked away in his mind prison. He didn't want to burden anyone with the guilt of having to take care of him. He was fine on his own, and he wanted people to see that. He would have told that to their face, but he could never bring himself to step into awareness- even for that brief moment to explain. He supposed that he would deal with his selfishness, and let people figure out how pointless it was to stick around. He was sure that most people had given up on him already. He was a shambling body without enough soul in his veins to be worth hanging around. One couldn't hold a conversation with him, nor could they use him for their own personal gain. He wasn't a puppet to be manipulated, or someone who could spark laughter. He was a shell, nothing more or less. They would figure out on their own that he wasn't worth sticking around for.

Tommy didn't know if anyone had abandoned him, but it was clear that Ranboo was not no matter what Tommy did. The blonde was stuck in a state of numbing depression and manic panicking. Ranboo had seen the worst of all of it. He had been the victim of Tommy's violent thrashing as he tried to fight the phantom hands that tried to drag him back into his nightmares. Ranboo had spent the late nights making sure that Tommy didn't wander off. Ranboo still had the strength to smile at Tommy, play with Michael, and be a minor nuisance to Tubbo. Tommy couldn't fathom how Ranboo was able to hold out so long. Sure, Ranboo was kind, that was the main reason everyone at least didn't hate him, but kindness could only get a person so far. Tommy was being unreasonably, infuriatingly stubborn. He had been spiteful in the past, doing things just because people told him not to, but none of those reckless events could compare to this. Tommy was pushing Ranboo away with everything he had left him. Any ounce of the wildfire he had been born with and lost most of along the way was being spent up to remain this elusive. Ranboo might not have gotten the message. Tommy wondered if it was an Enderman thing. Those creatures could be quite stubborn in trying to kill someone that accidently snuck a glance into those alluring purple orbs.