Friends, maybe.

House M.D.

Tw: Dissociation, accidental self harm? descriptions of blood

After a few days packed full of chaos and activities, everyone was glad to just have a chill day at Wilbur's house. It felt to Tommy like he had met almost every gamer and streamer in the country - Jack Manifold, Gogy, Tubbo, KSI, even briefly Jacksepticeye - and he was relieved to take a break.

"Anyone want to watch something?" Called Phil, who was lazing on the couch next to Will.
"Anyone seen House MD?" Techno mumbled through a mouthful of cereal.
"I was going to say The Office," Will said, "What's yours about?"
"Uhhhh... A mean doctor who likes drugs."
"I'm sold!" Will grinned, and Phil grabbed the remote to pull it up on Will's fancy smart TV.

Tommy found a chair, glad he would be able to zone out for a bit. Techno also meandered over, scooting on the couch next to the others. Tommy glanced their way, observing how Will nestled slightly next to Phil and Techno tucked his feet up beside him. The trio looked so at ease, so comfortable together. They honestly looked like family.

How suitable an arrangement. You wouldn't fit in with them anyways.

He sighed softly, turning again to face the TV. Ignoring Phil's eyes flickering over and then back as he hit play. See, now he'd probably made them all feel guilty for what, being comfortable? Nope, focus on the show. Which one was House, the dude with the cane? Was he a doctor? Where was his uniform?

Even he could tell it was a half hearted attempt to distract himself, but he kept watching, forcing himself to chuckle at the jokes. A couple of them were actually really funny, but his mind wasn't processing them. He felt dim, like he was underwater. Not drowning or anything --- everything was just coming slowly and somehow muddled. Thoughts were filling his head, but he just couldn't quite grasp them enough to concentrate properly; no sooner had he registered a train of thought then he cut it off and chided himself for being distracted.

Absently, he started playing with his fingers, ripping a bit where his biting had left fingernails raggedy and picking at hangnails. The characters in the show were arguing, yelling something about someone. Or something. Their voices kept getting louder and louder and it was beginning to make Tommy's head pound. Finally, the old guy who must be House screamed something, silencing the rest. The other three laughed, and Tommy tried to sound genuine as he copied them.

Why was he here again? He didn't care about this show. He hasn't been paying enough attention to know the plot or half the characters. He could go and leave everyone else to enjoy it without worrying about him. Although because he was sleeping on the couch, they were all technically in his room, so there wasn't really anywhere to go...

Maybe Techno's room? He was keeping most of his stuff in there so the living room could still be used, so maybe he could pretend to go get something. What would he even do though? Sit alone in there?

Like you don't do that every other day of your life. First you're lonely, then you push everyone away. Typical. You're such a failure. You're defective.

"Tommy?"

Uh oh. He could hear sympathy in that tone. What has he done this time?

"You're bleeding a bit."
"Huh?" Wilbur nodded towards Tommy's hands, and the other two looked over in concern as well. Sure enough, surprisingly quickly, little dots of crimson blood were blossoming up around his nails where he had pulled at the hangnails. When did that happen? Now he noticed, his fingers were stinging. 

"Oh." He wasn't quite sure what to say. When Phil saw he quickly stood up.
"Let's some bandages. Where are they Will?"
"In the bathroom. I can show you where."

"I- I know where they are, I can do it myself. Don't worry." Tommy also stood, but Phil made no move to sit again, clearly still confused. Will nodded. Although he looked fully empathetic, his face also said 'we will be talking about this'. Tommy swallowed thickly. How would he explain this?

He turned on his heels and marched to the bathroom. He was shivering slightly. Also, he had literally no idea where the bandages were. Turning on the tap and running his fingers under the water, he scanned the little room. The only real place they could be was the little cupboard behind the mirror.

Sure enough, along with the cough syrups and miscellaneous medication, there was a 50 pack of band aids. For some reason, they were all Pokémon themed.
"Really, Will?" Tommy muttered to himself as he dried his hands and stuck on a couple of Psyducks. It was a bit awkward to get them to stay on his fingertips. He still wasn't quite sure how he'd managed to make himself bleed. Had he really been that distracted?

There was no way he could get out of this without a conversation. They would all ask if he was ok, no really, was he ok, and say if he needed to talk they were there. Or maybe they wouldn't say anything at all, try and wait for him to tell them what was up. What if they thought he had done it on purpose? What if they thought it was for attention?

What if they didn't care?

He could leave, maybe wait it out and hang out in Techno's room like he had planned earlier. No good, they could come looking for him. Or he'd stress them out. Like he needed to do that even more.

The only thing for it was to go back to the living room and hope they wouldn't be too concerned. He sighed. His hands were shaking quite a bit, but he could maybe blame that on the cold water. He made his way back to the living room, but paused at the threshold.

From the way the couch was angled, he was behind them. They had paused the TV and were talking together in hushed voices. Tommy wasn't stupid. Although he hasn't heard his name, clearly they were talking about him. He held his breath, straining to hear.

Even though they were speaking softly, Tommy could hear every word...