Tommyinnit Oneshots

Death is not Kind

TW: death, depression, hospitals, suicidal thoughts, car crash

This whole chapter is about death, so take care and proceed with caution.

---

When Tommy was seven, his second-grade teacher asked the class to think about what they wanted to be when they grew up. She handed out a sheet of lined paper to each student, telling them to first write down a list of things they liked doing, then use it to think about what job they would want to have. When they were finished with their list and had chosen a career, she said, they could come to the front of the class to grab drawing paper and begin their picture.

Within ten minutes, every student had shown Miss Bourdle their list and received a paper along with a gentle compliment of their work. They shoved their grubby fingers into the crayon and marker buckets and began scribbling.

The only student without drawing paper was Tommy. He had finished his list (it was fairly short, consisting of football, watching YouTube, and math) and had thought about what careers went along with his list, but couldn't see himself in any of them. He could imagine all his favorite YouTubers, all his favorite football players, but couldn't imagine himself there. It was the strangest thing.

"Why haven't you started drawing?" Miss Bourdle asked, leaning over his desk to look at what he had written.

"I'm not finished with my list yet," he lied.

"I think your list is just fine as it is," Miss Bourdle replied. "It doesn't have to be long, as long as it's true. But if you are still working, I'll leave you to it."

At the end of the day, everyone left with their finished drawings shown off on the bulletin board outside their classroom, except for Tommy.

Miss Bourdle had handed him a blank sheet of paper and a small box of crayons, telling him he could finish it at home and bring it in tomorrow, then she would hang it up. Tommy nodded and grabbed his backpack, walking out of the school and into his mother's car.

"What's that?" she asked.

"A project I didn't finish."

"It looks like you didn't even start it," she chuckled, and normally he would vehemently object, but today he just didn't have the energy. "I guess I just don't know where to start," he sighed, staring at the blank paper in his lap. His mom looked at him in the rearview mirror curiously.

"What's the project about?" 

Tommy explained what they had to do, and his mom nodded for a moment, thinking. "So you finished your list but you couldn't draw the picture, is that right?"

Tommy nodded.

"Do you want help drawing it?"

Tommy shook his head. His mother tsked quietly, in a teasing way.

"Then is there any other way I can help?"

Tommy shook his head again, growing frustrated. "I don't know," he huffed. "I don't even know why I can't draw it. I'm so stupid."

"Hey," his mother scolded gently. "Don't talk about yourself like that. Maybe you just have... artist's block. I'm sure once you figure out how you want to draw your picture, it will have been worth the wait and yours will be the best in the class."

The atmosphere of  the car grew lighter after that, Tommy offering her a gentle smile. She met his gaze in the mirror, eyes full of love at her baby boy bundled up tight in his winter coat, cheeks rosy and blue eyes gleaming, lips offering her that small, private smile that was only reserved by children for their mothers.