Dsmp oneshots

Rot in hell.

Hello. I decided hey let's do angst n stuff. So yeah. Also this is not canon, just something I felt like writing.

Request: nope

Type: Angst

Description: Tommy has been put through YEARS of mental health problems due to solely one person. Wilbur. Wilbur comes back to talk with Tommy, and shit goes down.

TW: Yelling, small description of a panic attack (idk how clear it is), being left, bad words, mention of suicide attempt.
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It was that night. The night more than any other that haunted him the most, it haunted him, something he viewed as so small, it hurt him so much. Like a stab wound that never properly heals. Or when you stub your toe, and then right before it's all healed you stub it again. It was never ending, a repeated cycle. Just like those two words that never stopped repeating in his head, they were like a broken record player, they spun in his mind more then a tornado could ever spin. It was like he was caught in a spider's web. Never completely getting free from that night. As if a part of him died in that moment, to those words, to the person he trusted, and loved most at that time. The one he wishes he could hate now, but he could never stop himself from wanting a hug from, or just an apology, something.

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The yelling rung through the house like a million bells. Tommy was trying to block it all out, sitting in the room he shared with Wilbur. He was crying, it felt like he was suffocating, drowning in a million waves of different emotions. In his mind it was if there were millions of smoke clouds, trapping everything out, but the sounds that broke through the barriers. Tommy was sitting on the bed trying to breath, tears streaming down his face like violent rivers without an end.

He jumped when the door to the room bust open, and Wilbur came storming in, tears running down his face, but he still managed to have an angry look that could kill thousands. His eyes were filled with hatred, it was sickening it look at because of how much hate they showed. It kind of burned.

Tommy sat there watching as Wilbur opened their shared closet, and went to the side where his things were, he dug around some and pulled out his suitcase, and began taking all his clothes out and stuffed them into the suit case, then he began stuffing the rest of the things from the now almost empty side in as well.

Now Wilbur's side of the closet was completely empty. Tommy just sat there not being able to move, as if something kept him there, stuck on his bed. He screamed in his mind, trying to move, wanting to stop Wilbur. Wilbur had gotten all of his clothes out of the drawers and was grabbing things like his books, an old stuffed bear, and his pillow.

Tommy finally was able to get up from that stupid place where he was frozen. "Wilbur what are you doing," he knew it was a dumb question, but it was the only thing he could spit out. Wilbur Turned around towards Tommy his eyes still giving off that sickening glare as he looked at him. "I'm leaving."

Those words, those two words are the words that have haunted him for years. Tommy was six. Six, and his mind was poisoned by those words. A moment he will never forget.

Tommy ran over to the closet grabbing out his own suitcase, beginning to pull some of his own clothes if the hangers, and throwing them messily in the suit case. "Tommy," Wilbur said walking over behind the boy. Tommy looked up at Wilbur, tears streaming yet again. "Stay here, you can't come with me this time," he said, poison slicked over his voice, but yet he spoke in a calmer tone.