A Thousand Words Left Unsaid (Cause No One Listens To The Dead)

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Tommy's sleep that night is restless, despite his physical comfort.


He tosses and turns and floats in and out of memories warped into dreams. He sees himself tucked against Raptor's side on a couch, watching cartoons late into the night. He sees Pyro trying to teach him how to manipulate fire with his powers. He sees Flatline patching him up after his failed attempts at manipulating fire; and Pyro's furious apologies as his burns are healed.


But the more he struggles to stay asleep, the more those dreams twist and change into nightmares.


He sees Raptor the night they faced off the police- but this time he doesn't survive. He sees himself with blood on his hands and glass in his skin. He sees himself falling down a tube as his feathers fly off his wings. He sees Raptor with a snake for a tongue as he towers over Tommy; his head opening up like a hinge to reveal the wicked thing as it lunges for him.


This time when he wakes up with sweat plastering his hair to his forehead; he decides to just bite the bullet and stay awake.


The morning is a blur for Tommy.


His head is practically splitting in two by the time he's calmed down from his nightmare; and he fumbles with the Tylenol and gulps down as much as he dares before shoving his face under the mass of blankets to go back to sleep. His lights are off, and there's no noise- but just existing hurts his head right now. The silence rings in his ears and knocks around the base of his skull, and the growing light outside his closed blinds makes him want to punch something.


His head throbs in tune to his heartbeat throughout the morning as he periodically drinks water and downs more medicine. It helps a little bit, but he eventually runs out of water. He debates getting up and getting more for a moment, but quickly shakes the idea off and buries his face deeper into the mass of blankets. Sure, he might need more water, but he doesn't really feel like leaving his ne-


..Bed. He doesn't really feel like leaving his bed.


Ranboo checks on him half-way through the morning; and brings him a couple pieces of toast and a couple bottles of water. He pats Tommy lightly on the back and makes him swear up and down that he'll text someone immediately if he needs anything before leaving him in blissful silence once more.


Wilbur texts him a few minutes after Ranboo leaves, asking if he's ok or if he needs to go see Lotus. Asking if he needs anything. Tommy scowls at the brightness on his phone screen, but texts back that he's not sick and should be fine by the afternoon. He barely remembers to thank him for the offer before shoving his face back under the blankets.


He is decidedly not fine by the afternoon, much to his dismay; but he doesn't mind it too much. He eats a light dinner, forces down some Nyquil, and buries himself under his bundle of blankets as he passes out.


The rest of the week isn't much different.


His hangover is gone by the morning of day 2, and he's moving around again just fine. And for some reason, Wilbur is extra clingy now. He texts Tommy in the mornings to ask what his plans are. And when Tommy's almost always at the gym, he asks to join him without fail. When lunch rolls around, Wilbur will drag him down to the cafeteria and will eat lunch with him before they go about their afternoons. If Tommy has patrol, Wilbur will offer to join him and whoever he's scheduled with. If he's free that afternoon, they go to the park and feed the birds, or wander around the shopping district of the city while sipping on milkshakes.

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