You don't get to come back! || (has been re-wrote!)

What is he meant to do?

(this contains mentions of self harm i'll put "**" when it starts! :] stay safe and seek help if you need it!)

No.

Absolutely not.
What is he meant to do? The house smells like beer and cigarettes. His fathers a state. They haven't bought food in months. His breathing hitched at the thought of seeing the two sitting across from him at the dinner table.

How different can they be? They can't be that different right?

His feet carried him to the kitchen to grab whatever cleaning supplies he could. Fuck! How can he clean the entire house? Tears streamed down freckled cheeks as hands rushed towards the blond locks on the teens head. His legs finally giving away, forcing him onto the floor.

Deep breaths could be heard over quite snores but the smell of the sickly beer was overwhelming as it seemed to cling to every surface known to man.
He couldn't breathe. He needed to breathe. Tommy quickly closed his eyes as the cold wooden cupboard met his back. His hands tracing against the kitchen floor hoping this would somehow help. It did eventually.

He stood once more and put away all the cleaning supplies. All he needed was a broom to clean the floors. Why was he freaking out so much?

The house is practically unlived in.

He just needs to light a few candles and the smell will go away. Tommy made his way towards the stairs and then eventually his bedroom. Wilbur used to love candles.

He snatched up his well loved lighter, Henry. It fit nicely in his hand, one click, two clicks, three clicks! "No come on Henry"
The fucking lighter was dead.

There goes that plan. His nearest corner store was a good fifth teen minutes away and he had no clue when his brother would get here.

Didn't Wilbur have a lighter in his room.

Tommy made his way out of his room and across the all too still hallway. It seemed to laugh at Tommy in a weird way as if the house knew what situation he was in and how much he hated this fucking room.

"fuck off Tommy!"
Blue eyes snapped shut as get yet another punch was thrown at him. Even though his brother hurt him. Tommy could never hate him.

"No wonder mom left! If anyone ever loves you they are either doing it for self gain or they are truly and utterly stupid."

Tommy agrees with Wilbur.

**
That was the first night Tommy hurt himself he had been about 8 maybe 9. It was the same year his brothers left. He was so angry with himself.

Wilbur hurt Tommy when he was angry.

Why can't Tommy do the same?

The small child who was exposed to so much at such a young age picked up a shard of glass which was left over from Wilbur's tantrum.

An 16 year old having a tantrum. It was almost funny.

The shard was small. About the size of his palm in length but quite thin in width. It should've been cleaned up by now, out of Tommys reach in a trash bag somewhere.

He brought his finger to the shard as he ran it across the edge. Little bubbles of blood started appearing on his finger tip and they eventually gathered into one and he watched it roll down his finger.

He then rolled up his shorts and brought the shard to his thigh.

Tommy arrived at school the next day wearing black sweatpants. His face twisting every time the fabric brushed against his leg in a weird way.

Tubbo and Ranboo didn't notice.

No one did.

Thick white lines now run across his thighs.

**

Tommy stood in the doorway of his once brothers room. It was just as empty. Just as still. He pushes all of the thoughts to the back of his head as he wanders into the old room.

A drawer was still pushed into the corner but it now had a thick layer of grey dust sat on top of it. The draw wasn't too hard to get into but it was stiff due to not being used. Surely enough a little yellow lighter sat in the middle of it along with some paper and ash.

Tommy leaves the room with a lot more speed than he did coming in.

Candles flickered as the smell of lavender floated around  the room. It reminded him of his mother.

Orange light casted itself across the living room causing Phil to stir in his sleep. The sun set leaving pink clouds in its path and traces of purple in the sky.

Finally his da.. Finally Phil woke up.

The moon was taking its place in the sky as the stars twinkled around it. It was beautiful really the night was never the same since the stars always seemed to move and change. Even the constellations seemed to shift.

"why are the candles lit?"

His nose scrunched up as his train of thought was ruined. Tommy just wished that Phil could've stayed asleep for longer so he could stare at the stars for a few more minutes.

"Wilbur and Technoblade are coming home."

The air became tense. It was unsafe and Tommy knew it. He was in territory that he shouldn't be in, it was like walking into a lions den without some sort of way to defend yourself.

"what the fuck. Since when. how long have you known Thomas?"

The obviously still drunken man looked like he was about to murder someone. He loves the twins more than anything. Well almost anything, the man is an alcoholic. That's exactly why he's so angry. The twins, those who can never do any wrong and are perfect little angels, they aren't allowed to know about this little "addiction".

"They called. You were passed out, i had to take the call and it was Wilbur telling me he was on his way home with Technoblade"

"Go up to your room please I need to make a call."

With that Tommy left. Phil was met with no resistance which was a little bit surprising but not enough for him to bring it up. After all he doesn't know Tommy.

Not anymore.

A yellow lighter was used for the second time that night. Smoke filled his lungs in one last attempt to escape reality. Small buzzes could be felt from under his skin as he let the nicotine travel deep into his blood.

They are coming back. Tommy doesn't know if he's ready.