Sleepy Ghosty Bois Inc.

The Boy in the Picture

Tommy sat in his room, the bee plush sitting in his lap, the moobloom sitting on his bedside table. Techno and Wilbur had left to go get some food, leaving the blonde by himself. Tommy didn't know if he liked the idea of having the house to himself or if he hated it. On the plus side he could do anything without supervision... On the bad side the three brothers had just found a picture of people they didn't even know yet lived in the same very house they now live in. Tommy didn't know how to think. They had just seen a picture of teens that had to be about their age and had no idea who they were. He let himself fall onto his back on the bed, looking at the ceiling. The emptiness was bothering him, so he just turned to the side to stare at the moobloom on his bedside table. He let his eyes slowly close but then he heard a sound echo through the house...

And Tommy knew it wasn't one of his brothers this time...

Tommy was quick to sit up, putting the bee plush next to his pillow. He practically sprinted towards the stairs throwing his door open and hoping it didn't leave a mark on the wall. He was wearing white socks so he slipped a bit, almost running into door knobs and falling flat on his face. But soon he made it to the stairwell. From the top of the steps he saw the guitar playing again. Just like last time there was no one moving the strings, the guitar seeming to play itself. Instead of leaving it be he was quick to run into the living room, flinching when he felt his side hit the table. But he ignored the pain and grabbed Wilbur's guitar, the instrument going silent in his hands.

"W-what the hell...? Why do you stop playing now?" Tommy asked and carried the guitar to the couch, making sure it didn't hit the ground as he walked. He saw down, the guitar laying on the cushion next to him. He just stared at the guitar, waiting for it to play again so he knew he wasn't crazy. "Fucking god- Why do you only play when no one but me can hear you? I'm going insane..."

Tommy just stared at the guitar like it would answer him. Like it would actually comfort him and tell him that he wasn't crazy. That it would actually try and talk to him. That made Tommy feel even worse but he still hoped it would.  But instead it just layed there unmoving, making Tommy's gut twist. Tommy slapped both hands on his face and slumped over. Why was he so focused on this one stupid guitar? This should be Wilbur's problem. It was his haunted guitar after all... Yet Tommy found himself worrying about the guitar more than anyone else. He wanted to smash the guitar but he knew that Wilbur would be pissed at him... And who said that would get rid of the issue.

"You know... I thought moving here would help me get away from all the weird shit. School where I used to live was absolute hell and everyone was a complete asshole. It was like the world there had no hope. But I guess it follows me... The internal dread. I just wanna be normal damn it... Not the weird kid who's always too loud and all that crap. If there's some ghost or something just leave me the fuck alone! Or better yet show yourself so I don't feel like I'm going crazy!" Tommy yelled out into the house, his words echoing off the walls.

Again he got no answer. He got nothing... Tommy looked at the guitar and pushed it as far away from himself as possible. He then scooted as close to the couch's armrest as he could and curled up into a ball. Just burying his face into his knees as he let his brain sort things out. He was just so tired and got worked up so easily. He hated it... The silence wrapped itself around the boy but the blonde didn't feel safe at all. He didn't like the emptiness. This wasn't home... It wasn't his home yet. Without his brothers being there with him he felt all alone. At that moment he was just sitting in a building that people were allowed to live in and not a place where he felt warm and safe. Tommy honestly felt like he was about to start to cry.