Underestimated (Eddsworld Oneshots)

1.Alcoholic Problems.1

You know the old thing. "Don't drink, don't do drugs" thing? Well how people say that stuff "Takes affect on your body" and "ruins family"? It does, a lot.
Tom's been picking up the pace with his drinking, getting violent even recently. Her physically hurt me, Edd and Matt. But sense it only happened a couple of times (and we knew how to defend ourself after awhile) we didn't pay notice to the harm he was doing. But we really didn't know why he was drinking as much, and we didn't notice the harm it was doing on him.

Tom chugged the beer bottle down, the liquid sliding down his throat to leave a burning sensation afterwards. It seemed to go slowly, and the burning traveled up to his nostrils, but he had chugged almost all of the bottle of alcohol. He looked around, wanting to see Tord or someone. But the more he looked the more he got dizzy. "Ohh... F-fuckin' well! Better.. mn.. drink the dizziness away!" He started drinking the rest of the bottle, but stopped and slammed it down on the counter. Tord heard it from another room and peaked his head in, watching nervously from around the brown oak wood door frame. Tord was currently in the kitchen while Tom was set up in the living room, the TV on something called "The Kittens". Tord really didn't take much interest in the show. Tom hunched over unexpectedly, his arms instinctively holding his stomach. He groaned softly, and all I could really do was watch. I'd say I'd be lying if I said I was surprised. It may just be sense he was drinking without any food, or something. He quickly got up and ran somewhere. I'm assuming the bathroom. I sighed, deciding I'd check up on him when he came out.
Tom held his stomach with one hand, the other one quickly lifting up the toilet seat as he hunched over into it, his mouth agape as he felt something sour swirl up in his cheeks. With a few mere seconds the sour taste dived down into his throat, and he started gagging. Something fiery hot ran up into his throat, soon coming out unexpectedly with a fowl taste. He clenched his eyes tight, gagging more and repeating the process many times. His nose, throat, ears, everything burned in his face area. He coughed a bit more, waiting and panting to see if he was done puking yet.
Tord slowly went to the bathroom, wanting to check up on Tom. He pushed the door open a bit wider than what it was, sense it was already opened. I assumed he was probably playing with Matt's beauty kits sense he was drunk. "Tom? Where a-" I stopped, looking down at the hunched, blue jacket baring man hunched over into the toilet. I gasped a bit, "Tom- Tom? Are you okay?" I asked, panic rising in my voice. He waved his hand, "Yeah, yeah.. commie.." he coughed, still slurring a bit. I kneeled down and rubbed his back, making him seem a bit eased. I have to admit, it smelt terrible in the room, but it was pretty easy to ignore. I was more focused on Tom than anything, and hey, this all happens. "Here, I'll get a wet rag and you can help me wipe your face, okay? Don't look up yet, don't want anything dripping to come on the bathroom rugs.
"Okay..." he mumbled. I stood up and grabbed a rag from the doors on the counter, swinging out the black rag as I pushed he door closed with my knee, turning on the sink to a pretty warm temperature, and I let the rag sit under the water for awhile. I kept glancing down at Tom, who almost looked asleep in his hunched over position. 'I should really get him some water after this...' I added a mental note as I turned the water off and squeezed the loose droplets of water out of the wash cloth. I kneeled down, "Okay, Tom, you can look up." He groaned a little and looked up to me.
His face was pale, almost even a yellow skin tone from the puke. Some orange and green chunks coated in thick saliva dribbled down his chin and even out of his nose. His eyes were droopy, and his mouth was closed. I could see he was trying to swallow down the horrible burning sensation in his throat. I gently ran the rag over his face, him closing his eye.. sockets. He let me wash his face of most of the excess vomit, even around his nostril areas. His hair was a mess, and I could tell he was still in pain.
After a few more wipes I took the rag away, rubbing my fingers together. I could feel the gooeyness of the vomit still on the decently warm rag. I gently put it on the counter, wrapping an arm around Tom's shoulders as he shakily stood, clinging on to me for support. "It's okay.. I'll get you some water then you need some rest, okay?"
"Okay.." he nodded in agreement, coughing a little bit still.