𝘛𝘖𝘔𝘔𝘠𝘐𝘕𝘕𝘐𝘛 𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘚𝘛 𝘖𝘕𝘌-𝘚𝘏𝘖𝘛𝘚

talk to me (tommy + quackity)

the discord notification occasionally rang throughout his room as the boy tried his hardest to suppress sniffles, choked sobs escaping his lips as he sliced along fragile skin. a razor blade sat in his right hand, fingers gripped tightly around it as he trembled. he couldn't stop now that he had started.

he didn't know when the unhealthy coping mechanism surfaced - whether it be the first time he accidentally scratched himself with a pair of scissors upon excitedly attempting to open a new package he'd order over the internet, hand beginning to bleed at the careless stumble, or when he heard it from his friends, who'd, in the moment of tommy being his obnoxious self, had enough of the boy and told him to shut up, to go home and pop a pill or to slit his wrists. of course, what would've been a harmless joke, if not for the lack of mental stability in his headspace. he ended up choosing the latter, given that the idea of death itself scared him too much to actually ever attempt to try anything permanently irreversible. so he sat in the corner of his room, lights off, door locked (despite nobody being home), nine clean cuts pooling blood onto his arms. a tenth one made its appearance with a swift flick of his wrist, prompting the boy to inhale sharply at the stinging sensation. the shower afterward was always the least pleasant part.

he wasn't always depressed. didn't always want to take his own life, or feel the need to self-harm at any minor inconvenience life seemed to throw his way. on the contrary, tommy always considered himself a generally happy person. he did well in school, had a good relationship with his parents, and immersed himself in a caring group of friends. sure, the majority of them he'd met online, and could pass as his older siblings if you squinted hard enough, but tommy learned to appreciate them and was positive that they reciprocated the sentiment.

he couldn't understand when or why the gag picked up of everyone treating him like a nuisance, however.

it started slow, subtle drops of the 'child' nickname and a playful groan every time he joined the call with a loud 'ELLO,' subsequently forcing everyone in the vc to lower his audio on their receiving end, up until he noticed how harsh words hit a little harder and the constant picking on him stung a little longer. he laughed it off every time, told himself that it was surely a bit and that his friends still saw him as anything but the annoyance they played him out to be, yet couldn't help the desperate need to pull niki or fundy or eret aside after every stream, asking them if he actually did anything to upset them, wanting them to assure him that they were only joking about everything the group had said to him. despite their verbal confirmation that, no, he wasn't doing anything wrong and that he shouldn't worry about any of it, tommy fought to believe there was something about him that truly irritated his friends.

'they're lying to you,' he started to tell himself one afternoon after ending stream, 'they don't like your company. you're too loud, too bothersome, too bratty. you're a little too much of everything.'

his voice grew quieter each stream, didn't partake in as many bits and gags as he usually would, and tended to cut them short whenever he indulged in one. the only people who seemed to notice the change in his personality were tubbo, niki, and big q. he'd expected the first two, given how he couldn't keep anything from his best friend and was easily read like a book by niki and her sympathetic self, but was surprised to find the nineteen-year-old pulling him into a separate vc after he raided tubbo, voice just a little bit softer as he talked to the boy, questioning him on his foreign behavior. he quickly brushed it off, lied that he was just tired from studying all night for a test, but appreciated the need to reach out and would talk to him in the morning. quackity told him that he hoped he rested well, and tommy promptly left their call with a casual 'goodnight, big man.'