Sleepy Bois Turnabout?

Weak

Everything was... wrong.

Tommy's eyes squeezed shut. Oh... oh, he was so tired. He felt like he'd run twenty marathons but he wasn't out of breath or sweaty or anything. He was just achy, weak, and exhausted. Tired to the point of it almost being painful.

He was dead, wasn't he?

Memories played over and over in his mind, consuming him like he was living them. He wasn't even sure he had his eyes closed. He didn't have anything to focus on other than the worlds he was living. He wasn't aware anything else did or had ever existed. How strange then, that despite the fact he knew of nothing else, he couldn't quite tell what they were. Shapes, colors, sounds, feelings, all so out of tune. He could tell when they changed but never into what. He could tell when he was somewhere new or moving but never to where. It was like hearing something just barely too quiet to make out.

He knew what this was. Words dripped across his brain as he searched for the answer he didn't need.... dreaming.

Something about it was almost pleasant. There was a comfort, a blanket, a cage about it. It wavered around him like a bubble, there, loose, deceivingly corporeal. He could imagine it protecting him to the point of it almost being real. Almost, but not quite. He was continuously reminded of its inexistence. Cold air sunk through the not-there barrier and into his skin. He was cold. It was cold. He shuffled himself into his coat. Coat. He was wearing a coat, thankfully. Actually, his body was rather warm. He had on double layers. Why? A good thing, it was brisk here, only his face and hands and ankles were chilly. He lifted his heavy, heavy, arms in an attempt to shift positions but found himself unable. Too tired to ignore it he sunk his conscious back into itself and resumed his nothingness.

Tommy's eyes stung behind his eyelids. He tried to reposition himself to shield from the light but no matter what direction he attempted to toss or turn it was there. Uncomfortable. It bothered him so much. And what was that noise? No. No, he just wanted to go back to sleep. He tried to ignore it all. Why was he moving? Something was shaking him. He tried to ignore it. He was so tired. He felt like his blood and bones had been replaced with sand. He was an anchor at the bottom of the ocean... but they wouldn't stop trying to wake him up! Someone was calling to him. It was inaudible but as he was forced to be more and more conscious his mind caught on and began to process.

"Tommy! Tommy, wake up. Wake the fuck up," someone hissed.

They were whispering, but they were loud. Angry? No, scared. It was unfamiliar and antsy but he couldn't bring himself to care. Unfortunately, he also couldn't ignore them no matter how hard he tried. Begrudgingly, he opened his eyes. He couldn't see anything, it was too bright.

"Tommy, listen to me. Can you hear me? I'm... so sorry. It's gonna be okay. This is fine. We're gonna get you out of here okay? I- shit. He's calling. He just... this is just an example, okay? We're not- I'm not actually going to do anything. You just sit tight and look... look like how you look. Okay. Okay, here we go. I just need to answer... it's gonna be fine... I need to be quiet... ahaha..."

Ugh. He wanted to tell Quackity to shut up. Yeah... yeah, that was Quackity. His eyes were adjusting now and he could make out his surroundings. Big Q was in front of him, holding up some weird kinda camera. He was shaking and sweating like crazy. He looked scared, it should have been funny but wasn't for a reason Tommy wasn't aware enough to grasp yet. Why was the light so bright? Tommy rolled his head back in an attempt to hide, squinting. Was this what a hangover felt like? He'd never had one before but he guessed the feeling was similar. Ugh, he felt almost sick. He drifted... he...

BANG

Tommy jolted upright. His chest was pounding. BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, his heart echoed the awful sound, bruising his ribs from the inside out. His torso was going to explode. His veins were going to pop. There was so much adrenaline rushing, surging, bursting throughout him. His head ached. His stomach ached. His muscles ached. He was awake, he was awake, he was awake but his body was so heavy. What- he felt tears begin to burn through his eyes- what was that? He jerked back, trying to panic, to move, to look, to do anything, but found himself restricted. Restrained.