𝙄𝙣 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙄 𝙖𝙢 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪. || Ticci Toby x Reader

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊|| 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖐 𝖌𝖔𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖜𝖆𝖋𝖋𝖑𝖊 𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖑

My leg and ass are twitching<3 might just be a sign of dehydration but eh (it's 1 am as I'm writing this) I just heard a roach rummaging in my trash please save me. 

Update: the roach attacked me I was running around my room in my underwear and my hoodie</3 and it now smells like raid <//3

warning: bullying/tormenting, mental health, and my attempts at small hallucinations for Toby's schizophrenia.

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August 13, 2012

Monday, 6:29 AM, Denver, Colorado

The sun began to rise, shining through the half-closed blinds of the boy's room. The mourning dove sang melancholy on the roof above his window. The other birds sang as they flew past. He sighed, getting at least 2 hours of sleep, but the good part is that It didn't bother him until it was halfway through the day; then that's when he was in trouble.

His phone alarm went off. The national anthem because what was more annoying than having that blast in your eardrums every morning? He shut it off. Mumbling to himself. It was the first day of sophomore year.

He lazily slid out of bed, then fixed his plaid blue bedsheets that were a quilt-type material. Sighing and sitting down on it. He began tearing up. He absolutely hated school, everything about it, the learning, the people, the environment, and the fucking gross ass food. It all made him sick to his stomach. He began to twitch, subtle twitches in his fingers and his neck. Making a small popping or cracking sound.

To an average person with tics, it would hurt or they would feel discomfort. Not him though. He was different, or 'unique' his mother would say.

He walked over to his old wooden dresser, having little drawings on the sides of when he was younger, or it was carved into. He pulled out a pair of jean shorts, they were large and baggy, and a shirt from a band that he didn't know of. Slipping it on, realizing that he had almost zero body hair, but other than a few places of course. He hated the whole 'Oh you're just a late bloomer!' no, at this point he would give up. 'No I am not no fucking late bloomer, there's something else happening...' he thought. Was that his delusions talking? No, he was right. He was always right.

He walked over to his closet, took his favorite dark blue jacket off the hanger, and slipped it on. He walked out of his bedroom, walking slowly through the quiet hall, not wanting to wake anyone up. He walked into the bathroom, sighing as he looked at himself in the mirror.

He was short for his age, maybe 5'1 lanky, and thin, with almond-shaped eyes that were a russet color with long eyelashes, he had messy dark brown copper hair that was starting to tuft out at the bottom, a strong jawline, slightly hollow cheeks, he had dimples, small freckles here and there, a beauty mark under his right eye, straight nose, dark eyebags, thick eyebrows, and finally pale skin. He was okay with how he looked.

Well, not really, at times he felt like he didn't look good enough, but who cares? It's not like any of the girls at school wanted to talk to him. All the twitching and random blurting of words drove them away, along with the delusions and hallucinations.

He turned on the faucet, washing his face with almost scalding hot water, the vapor floating off his face and hands. He didn't feel it, he never could. He grabbed a towel and wiped off his face, patting it gently until all the water was absorbed, he then began brushing his teeth, now noticing his face was a bright red.

His eyes widen, ignoring it and continuing his routine.

His sister sat in the living room. Lyra was her name, mentally preparing herself for the day. She was now a senior, probably going to be one of the most stressful years of her life. She looked over at the creaking stairs, seeing her younger brother.