Sleepy Bois Turnabout?

Didn't It Seem So Obvious?

[Tuesday, 5 Days Before The Trial]

Tick tick tick tick tick.

Tommy stared blankly at the ceiling. It was cold down here, Phil always kept the house so damn cold. He didn't want to get a blanket. He didn't want to complain. He just laid on the couch, arms folded, watching the drywall like his brain was an out-of-tune TV, and feeling cold.

Tick tick tick tick tick.

He'd gotten back from the hospital maybe an hour ago. He barely remembered his time there, mostly just laid in a room and slept and tried not to think and refused to answer questions. Sometimes Phil was there, sometimes Technoblade, sometimes Ponk. Sometimes he liked not to be alone, sometimes he wanted to scream for them to leave. He remembered it felt like such a long time. It felt like forever, yet looking back it all compacted into the same scene of the same room with the same empty thoughts.

Tick tick tick tick tick.

He wondered what time it was. He tried not to think about why he didn't have his phone. He wouldn't look at it if he had it anyway, right now looking at a screen would make his eyes explode. It would just hurt too much. It was probably late, at least one in the morning, maybe later. He was tired. He was exhausted. Sleep was the last thing on his mind. His body felt like it was full of sand; he felt as if he would sink like an anchor and drag along the ocean floor should someone drop him overboard.

Tick tick tick tick tick.

Rest. He needed rest. He was resting right now, he felt the weight of his limbs as he didn't move them, keeping them gentle and still. Regaining his energy... ugh. It was fine, he guessed. He felt just okay, it wasn't a bad feeling. It's not like he wanted to/didn't want to do/not be doing what he was. No opinions. What he really didn't want to do was go lay in his bed all by himself. Techno hadn't stayed the night so he was off who knows where. Phil was in the office just a few feet away, preparing for work. Supposedly. Tommy didn't understand how he could prepare for a case they didn't even have yet. No one— he— no one knew what happened... no one. No one.

Tick tick tick tick tick.

"FUCK."

Tommy instantaneously burst with energy. He threw himself off the couch and ran to the wall, snatching the damn clock off and slamming it on his knee. When that proved useless (apart from probably giving him another bruise) he angrily flipped it over and raked at the battery latch. His knuckles scraped in the scramble. This was so dramatic, he didn't care. Finally, he broke the stupid latch open and clawed the batteries out, dropping them to the floor. As soon as they hit the ground it was like a flip was switched. The energy drained completely away, he felt too tired to stand, the barking red across his vision sank to a dark and dull hue. He dropped his arms to his sides, letting the clock slip from his fingers. He took a deep breath as he stared at the pathetic little circle by his feet.

It was only 11:04.

A knock rang muffled in the back of his head as he stared at it. He shifted, uncomfortable in his own body as he mindlessly trudged back over to the couch. He drowned out the continuous knocking sound by cracking his knuckles. He wanted to do something to get his mind off his mind. Just before he laid back on the couch, the knocking came again, rougher and demanding. A flip switched in his mind and he registered he was supposed to answer that to make it go away.

Tommy really didn't know what he was expecting when he opened the door. A package, an officer, something he could be done with or pass of to his dad quickly. Instead, there was Fundy. Instead, there was Niki. Instead, there was fucking Sasha or whatever her name was, he couldn't remember when Wilbur had introduced her to him (years ago at least). Tommy blinked, nearly stumbling backward and he wordlessly opened the door for them to come in. For a moment he was too surprised and caught up in himself to take in anything other than the fact they were here, however as they just stood there awkwardly he caught their expressions. They were confused, they were standing on eggshells, they were miserable. They were looking at him like they were apologizing and sad and concerned all at once. They were... they were here for Wilbur. Of course. Why not. Why would anything else in the world exist? It was of course about Wilbur.