Tommyinnit Oneshots

I'm Not Me Anymore

A/N - this was a request from jsufbdjd, thank you for the prompt! Hope you enjoy.

TW: Nightmares, emotionlessness? 

Tommy walked into the kitchen, standing still. He was evaluating whether or not he was hungry; he decided he was and settled on cereal. He needed the calcium. 

"How are those Cheerios?" Wilbur asked as he walked into the kitchen. Tommy only needed a moment to think about what to say. Small talk was the easiest since he always knew what others wanted to hear. "They're good," He said, adding a nod after a moment.

"Sheesh, I don't understand how you like them. They're so boring and tasteless," Wilbur complained. "They satisfy my hunger," Tommy replied automatically, feeling a tingle on the back of his neck because he knew that wasn't the response Wilbur expected. He always needed to give people what they expected.

But Wilbur just nodded. "That's fair. You enjoy your Cheerios, I'll have my cake, thank you very much." With that, the older pulled out a massive slice of chocolate cake from the freezer, and Tommy realized he should laugh. He crinkled his eyes and stretched his lips, releasing his barking laugh that always reset the conversation and offset suspicion. It was a wonderful talent that he had perfected even before-

He cleared his throat. "Where did you even get that?" He asked. "Niki made it for me! Isn't she sweet?"

Niki. Niki tried to kill him with Tubbo's nukes. So did Jack.

"Yes, she's very sweet." 

The way Wilbur looked at him made the tingle come back in his neck, and his mind raced through the facial expressions he had made, his movements, word choice, and wondered if he messed up somewhere along the way. He concluded that his tone was slightly flat and his smile not wide enough, causing him to sound insincere. He hoped Wilbur shook it off.

"You alright, mate?"

Jesus Christ, he hated this question. It elicited the closest thing he could feel to anger. With this question he couldn't always tell someone what they wanted to hear and ease their worries, because sometimes that magnified them. It was a bit of a struggle to think of whether he should pretend to be okay or pretend to not be okay, and it made often himself wonder which one he was.

A beat too long. It was too late to say he was fine, Wilbur wouldn't see through the lie. "I'm a little tired, and I miss Tubbo." Tommy was supposed to be close to Tubbo, and he did look a little tired. Wilbur would believe it.

"Oh, I'm sorry mate. Would you like to go visit him?" 

Wilbur was still on this topic; Tommy needed to divert his attention. Suddenly, he had an idea: play up his jealousy of Ranboo and Michael.

"No, he's probably busy with his new family," He forced bitterness to seep into his voice and even went as far as to give a small, sarcastic smile. That did the trick, as Wilbur laughed and ruffled his hair. "He still loves you, Tommy. I'm sure he'd always be happy to see you."

Tommy nodded, knowing it would conclude the conversation and give him an opportunity to go upstairs. He had things to take care of.

He dutifully washed his bowl and made his way upstairs, letting himself indulge in his habit of walking on the very right side of the steps so he wouldn't make any noise. He didn't like being noticed.

He reached for the knob and opened the door. His eyes fell on his bed, and he felt the faintest beat of emotion. His eyes widened and his movements stopped. He didn't care what it was, he just desperately grasped onto it and pulled it to him, desperately hoping to get it close enough to feel it, not just sense it. But it wriggled away through his fingers, and his hands were empty again.

He knew he should feel disappointed, but he couldn't. It wasn't possible for him to feel disappointment, or anything for that matter. The exception was his dreams. He should call them nightmares since that's what they are, but that implied they were something bad. Sure, he relived the most terrifying moments of his life every single time his eyes closed, but he actually felt the terror. It was wonderful to feel something.

He sat down on his bed and wrapped his thin blanket around his shoulders, only doing it because he knew he would fall asleep faster if his body was warmer.

He closed his eyes and drifted off, an echo of excitement in his heart.

-

"Tommy. Tommy! Tommy, wake up!" 

He felt a hand shaking his shoulder and cringed away at the touch. He remembered his dream, blinking the sleep out of his eyes and seeing the blurry figure of Wilbur in front of him. The more his vision cleared, the more obvious the panic on Wilbur's face was.

"You were screaming and thrashing, what were you dreaming about?!"

"Exile," Tommy said flatly, holding Wilbur's gaze. He was too disoriented to keep up his facade and he wasn't ready to confront the hassle. He would fix his mistake later, assure Wilbur that it was just the nightmare messing with his head, but he wouldn't bother with lies now.

"You alright? Need anything?" Tommy's heart ached at the kindness in his tone, wishing he could return it. This was the closest thing he had been to feeling something in a while, and all he wanted was for the feeling of regret to go away, which surprised him. 

"No, I'm okay..."

"Tommy, please don't bullshit me. Something's up, and I've noticed it over the last few days. Please, just tell me what's wrong so I can help you."

"I told you, I'm just tired and I miss Tubb-"

"Please, Tommy!" Wilbur ran his hands through his hair kneeling in front of Tommy, who suddenly felt very small. "Just tell me what's wrong. What's really wrong."

"I'm not... me anymore." He said it exactly how the thought went through his head: emotionless and apathetic. Wilbur's face crumpled into a mess of confusion and hurt, and he wished he could have some emotion tell him what he needed to do to make his brother feel better. But all he could do was watch with a blank expression and wide, lost eyes as tears dripped down Wilbur's face and he placed his hand gently on Tommy's cheek. He flinched slightly, but when Wilbur went to pull his hand away, he held his own hand up, keeping Wilbur's palm against his face. He held it there as Wilbur's other hand drifted to his face, fingers ghosting over his features.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry this happened to you," Wilbur murmured, pulling Tommy into a hug. 

I'm sorry too, Wilbur. I'm sorry I will never be able to smile at you and mean it, laugh at your jokes, comfort you when you're upset. I'm sorry I'll never be able to tell you all the reasons I love you because I don't. I can't, and I don't feel sad about it. I'm sorry you have to look at my face everyday and know that it's impossible for me to love you. 

But Tommy didn't say any of that, because he knew it wouldn't help either of them, and he knew it would come out toneless and uncaring. He wondered if that would break Wilbur. 

"Me too, Wil," Was all he ended up saying.

Wilbur pulled him into a hug, and he awkwardly reciprocated it as the tears dampened his shirt sleeve, looking at the floor until Wilbur pulled away. He met those sad, brown eyes, and watched as they closed and his eyebrows drew close together. "I'm sorry, I can't-" Wilbur stumbled out of the room in a storm of sadness and regret, leaving Tommy to sit on his bed, wondering what he should do. Finally, he decided to go to sleep.

Maybe the emotions would come to him in a dream, and he would suddenly know what to do. Maybe he would come to, and the waves of terror wouldn't wash off of him with the wakefulness. Maybe they would stay, and he would call for Wilbur, and he would be crying and Wilbur would be crying and they would be crying together because Tommy was finally crying again, finally feeling again. Maybe he would tell Wilbur he loved him and mean it with every ounce of his being.

(A/N, skip if you're not interested)

Two updates in one day?? Wow, look at me go.

This made me too sad to just leave it there, so maybe Tommy gets better. It's up to you. 

Please send or leave requests if you have them! Thank you!