Congrats on Never Existing

And These Woods Are Always Dark

"Is he still asleep?"

Still? How long did he fucking sleep in til? Not past noon again, surely not. Still, he refused to check the time. The second he opened his eyes, they would jump on it like a pack of wolves and wouldn't let him rest again in peace. And Tommy was tired- almost like the sick, sleepy-tired; the kind that drags you into a muddy slump. He wasn't sick, though: no fever, no headache, no nausea, no nothing. Just a resonating dreariness that ached deep into his bones.

"Nope," another voice- deeper, more gravely, announced annoyingly. Tommy's breathing stuttered for a second, but aside from that hiccup, he gave no other reaction. "See that?"

"No? What?"

"His breathing patterns changed." Tommy peeked an eye open, his glare meeting sharp eyes. "Hullo."

"Fuck off," Tommy groaned, grabbing his cheap, ugly green throw blanket and yanking it over his head. He could try to go back to sleep- out of sight, out of mind, and that shit, but the feelings of eyes on his curled-up form made his skin crawl. Damn it.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," a voice hummed in his ear. Tommy swatted at the man, shooing him away from himself and off the bed. He kicked the blanket off of him, leaving it a crumpled mess at the bottom of the bed, before standing up, stumbling to steady himself.

"What time is it?" he huffed, rubbing his eyes. He trudged forward to the closet, which was less than two steps away from his bed in the small room. Still, the cold wood floors were enough to make Tommy want to crawl back into his warm bed. Regardless, Tommy grasped blindly in the dark room, not bothering to look at what shirt he grabbed before pulling it over his head.

"About-," the voice trailed off, and Tommy could swear he could hear phantom shuffling, but it was only in his head. "Nine thirty."

Tommy faltered, one arm sticking out of the sleeve, the other halfway bent underneath the shirt. "You're fucking joking," he managed out. A hum confirmed they were not. "Holy shit, I'm going back to bed."

"I will scream," a soothing, cocky voice threatened in his ear. He smacked his hand behind him to shoo the man away. Tommy pulled the shirt on the rest of the way before fumbling over to his light switch and flicking it on.

"Why the fuck did you two wake me up so damn early?" he whined out, dragging his hands down his face. Wilbur snorted, rolling his eyes as he sat against the bed.

"It's not even that early." Tommy's eyes snapped to the man in the corner of the room, frown persistent on his face.

" It's not even that early. Me-me-me-me, I'm Technoblade. I'm better than you," Tommy mimicked in a high-pitched voice, opening and closing the hand he had raised beside his head to imitate talking. "It's not even a school day!" he accused, throwing his hands out towards his calendar that was hung poorly on his dull, white walls. Sure enough, it was Sunday.

"I don't sound like that-."

"Sure," Wil shrugged, talking over Techno as he rose to his feet. He strolled over to Tommy, letting a hand hover over his shoulder. "But, you," he jabbed a finger toward Tommy's chest, but it didn't reach, stopping about an inch away. "You need sunlight. You're dying."

"Am I?" Tommy hummed with a raised brow, tilting his head.

"Yeah," Wilbur nodded, sure of himself. "I'm a certified doctor, you know? And I can tell you're dying of vitamin deficiency."

"Sure," Tommy agreed, taking a cautious step back from the brunet in his face but instead bumping into the door. The clatter inflicted a taunting laugh from Techno. Tommy shot a glare towards the pink-haired menace but didn't move to get away from the doorknob digging into his back. That'd be admitting defeat, and Tommy never loses. "I take vitamins, thank you very much. Flintstones vitamins- only the red ones though, they're the best- so I do believe I'm perfectly vitaminized."