MCYT angst oneshots

Shtwt

Wilbur, Tommy
- self harm
- eating disorder (very briefly)

(Bit of a weird concept ig, but eh. I'm out of creative ideas.)

Wilbur's hands shook as he reached up to his bedside table and grabbed his phone. He took a breath and opened his least favorite app, Twitter.

"How do I always end up here...?" He mumbled.

Wilbur triple-checked that he was signed out of his official Minecraft account and switched to his secret, much darker account. He snapped a few pictures of the bloody mess that soaked his arms, shirt, and floor, then tweeted it with the caption: It's worse than last time.

Wilbur wiped a stray tear from his eye and leaned back to scroll through his feed. It was filled with countless other people sharing both images of their own self harm and their thoughts regarding harming themselves, with a bit of eating disorder content sprinkled in. Most pictures were so identical that Wilbur could no longer tell if they were new posts, or just old ones being recycled. It didn't matter anyway. All that mattered was seeing those marks across someone's skin, didn't matter whose.

Wilbur continued to scroll mindlessly before suddenly stopping on an image he was sure he'd never seen before.

"The hell?"

The cuts were pretty standard, long red lines cutting past the first layer or so of the skin. That wasn't what intrigued him. What intrigued him was the eerily familiar shirt worn by the poster. Wilbur frantically switched tabs to twitch and pulled up Tommy's most recent stream. Sure enough, the same exact shirt in the picture was on Tommy's body, even down to the slightly frayed hem at the bottom. Wilbur let out a shaky breath. It couldn't be. Tommy wouldn't hurt himself.

Would he?

Wilbur wasn't so sure anymore. Usually he could tell who around him was struggling, but somehow Tommy had slipped past his radar. He ran a bloody hand through his hair and switched tabs once more, to Discord.

•••

Wilbur
I really need to talk to you.
Are you busy?

Tommy
No, just laying down.
What's wrong?

Wilbur
I'm going to send you a picture.
Please just tell me if you recognize it.
[Attachment]

Tommy
Why would you sne dthat

Wilbur
Tommy, is it you?

Tommy
No of course sot
Why would you this k that
Yuore scaring me

Wilbur
Tommy, please.

Tommy
Howd you ebe n get a picture loek yhat anyway

Wilbur
Tommy, your texts are getting increasingly harder to read. I'm not stupid. Why are you lying to me?

Tommy
Ima soryr wil

Wilbur
Please call me

•••

"Toms?!" Wilbur blurted out.

"I-I'm sorry, you weren't supposed to s-see that!" Tommy was sobbing.

"It's okay, it's okay, I- I understand..."

"I shouldn't've posted that, I'm so- stupid!"

"No, Tommy, it's okay. I- um..."

"You... you have an account too?"

"Yeah..."

"I think I follow you, honestly." Tommy let out a weak laugh and sniffled. "Didn't know it was you til now."

"I'm so sorry, Tommy."

"Don't be, it's my fault anyway..."

"I- don't-"

"It's okay Wil. You know I did this to myself."

Wilbur gulped. "I just wish I could've protected you somehow."

"You never could've known."

"I know, it's just... you're like family to me. I love you."

"I love you too."

"I know this is hypocritical but please, please don't hurt yourself. Talk to me instead."

"You know I can't do that."

"Please..."

"I'm tired."

Tommy ended the call, leaving Wilbur alone with his thoughts. The blood was now starting to dry and scabs were forming over his wounds, but all he could think about was Tommy. Why would Tommy hurt himself? Was it for the same reason as Wilbur? He was so young. It wasn't fair for him to be doing these things. It wasn't fair at all.

Wilbur pushed himself up from the ground and flopped onto his bed, ignoring the stinging sensation followed by a trickle of fresh blood onto his sheets. That was a problem for morning Wilbur.

(I hate this but I'm gonna publish it anyway cause why the fuck not)