Bathroom friends

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As Tommy stared at the man across from him he questioned everything.
The mirroring image was creepy, yet there were some inaccuracies. He was taller with green eyes decorating his face. It was sickening to see the person he could've grown into.

Pity was thrown all over his face, he hadn't seen this man in over a month. However, he stood there judging Tommys very existence as if he hadn't fought to stand where he stood.

"You look... are you sick?"
Anyone could've mistake the man's words for worry, that's what they should've been after all instead the words were laced with venom.
A bite so harsh it would scar.
"I'm fine Phil. Where did you go this time?"
Father like son.

The conversation had ended after that, the eldest not caring for the lack of disrespect.
Tommy made his way up the stairs and into his room, the door creaking slightly as he swung it open. Two doors down the hall remained closed possibly locked. He wondered if they made any sound.

Clothes were scattered across the floor as dirty dishes piled up near the door, he'd take them down later tonight when Phil was asleep.
His bed looked no different to the floor, in fact it was slightly worse. Sitting down he stared at the door for a moment, was anyone going to come looking for him.

Dream would call later today and ask for something that Tommy couldn't give him, it would make him mad and the man would see red as the blonde denied his random request once again. Maybe today it will be a reasonable one.

The door didn't move, didn't even creak. He shuffled through his bag in hopes of finding his charger or maybe even his air-pods.
Instead his hand met something cold and metal, pulling it out he saw a green tin.

His mouth felt dry and the air became tight. Everything blurred as Tommy tried and failed to list his surroundings. Nothing worked and so he sat there, alone.
Gasps shook his frame as he held himself tight.

Arms wrapping around the centre of his torso. No one came. It's fine he can do this himself, it's nothing he hadn't done before. The silence screamed in his ears as his head thrummed against his skull.

He couldn't breathe.
Black dots seeped into his vision, familiarity taking over his senses as his muscles locked and he passed out.

Tommy hates the colour green.

Phil was laid on the couch downstairs, he had been on a business trip for months yet he understood where his son was coming from. To be left alone for that long would upset anybody.

What his son didn't understand was that he needed to do that so they could continue living the life they lived. Maybe the extra shifts were overkill but it's better to be safe than sorry in his eyes.
The house was calm, slightly lived in but overall clean which is surprising considering he had left a teenager alone for months.

Just then Phil sat up, a crash had came from upstairs and he had a suspicion that it wasn't just a bottle falling over.
Socked feet were quiet against the wooden stairs, the hallway feeling empty as he made his way to his sons room.

Opening the door with a creak following it, he should oil the hinges.
Yet that didn't matter, it didn't matter at all.
There his youngest laid hyperventilating on his bedroom floor. His room still having marks of his childhood, small figures on the shelves and paint that had been splashed up the wall.

But there his child was, dying.
His feet moved quicker that his head as he stumbled towards his baby, the boys lips were blue as his chest rose and fell in a unnatural pattern.
Tears sprung to his eyes as he didn't know what to do. Hands twitching to move yet he didn't know where to put them.

CPR had been a requirement for his job but Tommy was breathing so his training is useless in a situation like this. Once again he couldn't be there for his son and it drove him crazy.

"Tommy?"
Blue eyes peeled open. The same blue that he had loved twice in his life were staring at him, wide and panicked. All Phil could see however was his wife. No his ex-wife. His son's mother.
Yet it wasn't her, she was happy elsewhere and her son was dying infront of him.

"I need you to breathe baby. Can you do that Toms?"
His skin was pale and he looked sick. He had said that already. Tommy shook under his hands, staring at his dad for help. Help that he couldn't provide.
Phil's phone laid forgotten in his pocket, it would've been useful had he thought about the situation more. He recognises that his son was dying yet didn't call for help.

Odd.

When Tommy finally sucked in his first breath of air he stared at his father. This time not for help, blue eyes were glazed with unshed tears as a glare formed on his face.
It was his fault, the green eyes that looked back at him only mocked his situation. Untold memories that would remain with that green box.

"Are you okay?"

"no."

Oh. For some reason he hadn't expected that answer, it threw him off and Phil was unable to change the shocked look on his face. Why was he so surprised.
As he searched for the right words to say Tommy rubbed his eyes, he remained silent as his son sat up to brush himself off.

"Do you need any help, anything at all?"

"no."

Phil stood up, his knees cracking in the process. Standing helplessly in a teenagers bedroom, he couldn't do anything but leave.
"Okay, erm I'm going to order in. Maybe get a pizza"
Tommy nodded at the statement. Phil left and once again Tommy was alone.

He changed his mind about people coming to help, no one could help. Clearly. Moments ago he laid there helpless as his guardian sat there shaking, his floor now looked rather empty.

Laying down on his bed he opened his window and lit a cigarette. Not caring if Phil would smell it.

Tommy would calm himself down from now on, by any means necessary. If that meant overdosing again he'd do it. He'd do it a thousand times if it meant he didn't feel this empty.

This alone in the world, connected to no one.
At least he couldn't feel anything while he was high, drunk maybe even dead. He should apologise to Dream again.

Smoke danced around his room as he tapped his cigarette on the bowl beside his bed, letting the ash fall into it before taking it to his lips again. The fuzzy feeling of nicotine entering his body, he welcomed the familiar feeling as he laid there.

Dream did call yet this time he didn't ask for anything, 'How are you Toms'
Maybe Dream could help, he had always been there. He wasn't alone if he had Dream.

"I'm okay now Dream, I miss you."