Its not always unrequited... (TubboxRanboo)

Too Much For Me

TW: Swearing, Self-harm, suicide, blood, razor blade, abusive family, vomit

Sorry guys it's a heavy one.

-Tubbo POV-

I wake up late at night or perhaps early morning, it's hard to tell as I squint my eyes through the darkness. There is a slight grey light peeping from underneath the curtains that encircle Tom's window. I wonder where Tommy is sleeping actually considering I've been in his room for quite a while.

It doesn't matter because I don't really need to know. It doesn't affect me in any way. I take a deep breath and my ribs ache from the bruises littered across the pale skin. I lift my shirt up and grimace when I see the collection of scratches and scars scattered among the purple and red. The scars are long healed but they still carry the memory of my father. 

I sit in the corner of my room scared and shaking because I can hear him shouting downstairs. I hear loud thudding footsteps on the creaky old staircase. The old worn wood of my door looks forbidding as the doorknob starts to rattle. The chair I hastily shoved under the knob is just as shit as everything in my life and starts to splinter. The brown wood is not withholding the force of my angry father well and I can hear my own breathing as the rattling becomes progressively more violent.

In one large chunk, the top of the chair comes off scattering wood splinters across the floor. He strides into the room with a belt in his hand.

"What did I tell you about trying to keep me out, boy?" He shouts at me from far across the room.

I shake with fear and close my eyes as I keep my arms firmly wrapped around my shaking legs.

"Look at me!" His voice is shaking with anger.

He approaches me quickly and gets up in my face. He reeks of alcohol and his words seem slightly slurred.

"How did I raise such a foul disappointment?" He asks close to me.

I shake my head trying to clear the words he's spewing at me.

"Well? Answer me!"

"You didn't." I say in a quivering voice "It's my fault that I'm like this."

"Damn right it is!" He shouts "You're nothing like me and never will be."

He pulls his arm back, his cruel fingers wrapped around the belt so tight that his knuckles are white. His eyes shine into mine before his hand whips forward.

I sit on the bed shaking as I relive memory after memory and I can't take it anymore. I think I might throw up. Panic rises in my throat as I claw my way out of the bed and down the hall into the bathroom. I shut the door behind me and lean against the door, breathing heavily.

I make my way to the toilet and lean over it. Bile crawls up my throat and I retch. I sit back and my eyes start watering. I scratch my arms and open the bathroom cabinet in search of some tums, I dig through the cabinet, and my hand brushes against a plastic bag. I pull it out and see a new bag of razors resting in my palm.

I let out a nervous gulp and my arms. It's been so long since the last time, I'm nearly three years clean. I put the razors back in the cabinet and wipe my face, I sit down on the cold floor and more tears trail down my ruddy face.

I pull the razor blades out again and carefully open up the package. I gingerly pull a sharp cold blade out of the package and a few tears drip down my nose onto the package.

I place the blade across my wrist and make a slice for everything I hate about myself.

Gay.
Hopeless.
Weak.
Fat.
Stupid.
Dyslexic.
Short.
Clingy.
Hateful.
Selfish.
Unfair.
Unloved.
Untalented.
Ugly.
Messy.
Sensitive.
Lazy.
Unoriginal.
Pathetic.
Naive.
Dumb.

By the time I'm done tears and blood drip down my arm. I started on my other one and it's a whole lot worse. I have no clear goal in mind at this time I don't want to make sure I can feel something, I don't want to protect myself from being hurt, from all the things people said to me. The only reason is that I want to not be in this world anymore.

I'm feeling faint and I've lost a lot of blood. The scarlet pools on the floor and the salt in my tears sting the new cuts.

There's banging on the door and someone calls out.

"Tubbo are you in there?" 

"Yeah Tom, what do you need?" I call out in a faint voice.

"Tubbo! What's wrong?" His worried voice echoes through my ears.

"Nothing, I'm just feeling a bit ill," I shout back my voice getting weaker.

"Let me in!"

"No, I just threw up!"

He seems to have gone away. I feel myself getting fainter and slump against the wall.

-Ranboo POV-

A loud ringing wakes me up from a deep sleep and I groan and roll over. I see Tubbo's ID calling me. I wonder what's up. He wouldn't be willing to do this of his own free will.

I answer and hear Tommy's voice.

"Ranboo, are you there?" I hear him panicking.

"Yes, I'm here what's up?" I ask rubbing my head.

"I think Tubbo did something to himself you have to come!"

I get up and grab my keys and pull on jeans and a sweater. I run to the door and yank it open, clattering towards the elevator.

"On my way," I mutter to Tommy.

"Okay, hurry!"

I hang up and run through the lobby to my car, seeing that Tommy sent me the address. I drive as fast as possible without going over the speed limit because the last thing I need right now is a ticket.

I get to the house and knock on the door drumming my fingers on my leg anxiously. A man with pink hair opens the door and he must have been warned because he brings me to the bathroom and leaves.

"Tubbo?" I call out softly.

I receive no reply and Tommy comes running at me.

"He's not answering!" I say anxiously.

"I know!"

I slam on the door and receive no reply. Tommy hands me a bobby pin and we both try and fail to pick the lock. Suddenly the man with pink hair approaches us.

"We can't get in, Techno!" Tommy says distressed.

Techno slams a chair into the door and I run in, spotting Tubbo laying in a small pool of blood and his face is streaked with tears.

I kneel down next to him and feel tears prick at the back of my own eyes. I press my hands to his face and wipe away the residue of tears.

"Please Tubbo," I cry "wake up."

I don't get a response and I cradle his head in my lap.

"Please," I say again in no more than a whisper.

"Tommy!" I say loudly "Call an ambulance!"

I press my fingers to his neck and feel a very light fluttery pulse pressing against my fingertips. But it's getting weaker and the ambulance is far away.

Tears fall down my face and onto Tubbo's hand which I clutch in my own, his head still resting in my lap.

(1242 words)

Remember to take care of yourselves <3
Drink water!
Thoughts? (: