Wilbur was still sat at his computer, drumming his fingers nervously against the table, staring at his phone. A text messaged pinged through and he jumped, relief filling him like a drug. However, when he checked the message it was just Ranboo wondering if Tommy had replied. He shakily typed back 'no' and threw his phone back down on the desk.
How had he missed this?
How had this been happening to Tommy for years and he had no idea?
Not to mention that he had seen his bare arms, littered with marks from self-injury. His body was skeletal and he was obviously severely malnourished; whether this was because of his neglectful parents or an eating disorder, he didn't know. Wilbur wanted to punch himself for being so stupid and not realising.
Guilt coursed through his veins and before he knew it, his entire body was racked with sobs. He knew he had to get some rest, but what he didn't know was how he was going to get through the night without hearing from Tommy and knowing he was okay. Part of him desperately wanted to call Tommy's parents and shout at them, curse at them, force them to take their son to the hospital but he knew that would be dangerous for Tommy, and Tommy was his priority right now.
He walked over to his bed and collapsed onto it, curling up and hugging his phone to his chest, praying for his little brother.
• • •
Tommy opened his eyes, the light searing into them. He knew his parents wouldn't let him go to school in this state for fear that they would be caught, so instead he would have to spend the day at home which was the last thing he wanted to do. He began to panic as he realised that he didn't know what his 'target' was for next Wednesday; he was normally told right at the end of the initial torture, but he had never properly passed out before. Perhaps they would let him off? 'Oh, who am I kidding?' He thought to himself as he realised they would probably just set the bar higher. Or lower, rather.
Tommy knew that he would have to eat in order for his body to cope with and heal an injury of the severity of the one on his back, and this put him in an impossible situation; eat, allow this one to heal and then get tortured again next week; or refuse to eat and probably die of his injuries. He chose the former and shakily tried to stand up. He felt stronger than he had last night, but still had to grip to the sink for support, and he slowly walked his way out of the bathroom, grabbing a hoodie and taking a deep breath before leaving his room. Clinging to the bannister for dear life, he slowly edged down the stairs and into the kitchen where he sat in a chair, making sure not to lean backwards so that his wounded back wouldn't touch the wooden back of the chair. He thought back to his biology classes and remembered that proteins were important for his body to make new tissues and heal wounds. This fact encouraged him to grab a yoghurt. Having not eaten for a week, even the smell made him want to retch but he forced it down nonetheless, and then took a second one. He knew he would regret this next Wednesday, but he also knew deep down that he didn't really have any more weight to lose. His body was skeletal, the only thing weighing him down was his bones and he couldn't get rid of those. As if on reflex, his body was screaming at him to throw up but he tried to shut those thoughts out and instead concentrated on replying to Wilbur. 'Cheery', he thought, 'I need to be cheery.'
Tommy
Hey big man, I'm totally fine! I think you guys misunderstood
last night a bit haha, me and my parents were just joking around
and stuff. Please don't worry about me, I'm fine.
Almost immediately, a reply flew in from Wilbur and Tommy sighed deeply, clicking on it and reading it.
Wilbur
Tommy, you are not fine. Please FaceTime me, I need to
talk to you. Please Toms.
Tommy began to shake at the thought of talking to Wilbur, especially as he hadn't sorted out his appearance. His face and hair were still covered in dried blood and underneath that blood a large purple bruise was forming from where his father had struck him, along with a cluster of circular-shaped cigarette burns. He looked a mess, and he knew it. But he also knew Wilbur and he knew that his text wasn't at all convincing. So, hesitantly, he clicked on Wilbur's contact and selected 'FaceTime'.
• • •
'Toms?'
'Wil.'
The relief Wilbur felt was indescribable. It was like nothing he had ever felt before, or would ever feel again. Tommy was alive. Tommy had called him.
'Please Tommy, I really need you to give me your address. I didn't see the actual thing happening but I saw the injuries and it's not okay. You're in danger if you stay in that house, Tommy.'
'I know.' Tommy whispered back, his eyes blurred with tears once again/
'Please talk to me. Please tell me what else they've been doing to you. If you're not going to let me help you physically, please at least tell me what's going on.'
Tommy's breathing shallowed as he began to spill everything.
'That's the twenty-third time that's happened, Wil.' Wilbur visibly flinched at this, but nodded his head to encourage Tommy to continue.
'They set a weight target for me every week. Normally I have to lose 3 kilos but this week it was 5 and I couldn't do it Wil. I tried so hard, I didn't eat at all and I purged every day even though there was nothing to throw up but I couldn't do it. And I know I'm not gonna be able to reach the target for me next week, and this is gonna happen again, and again, and again.' Tears were now streaming down his face but he didn't allow himself to audibly cry or raise his voice above a whisper for fear that his parents would wake up and come downstairs.
He took Wilbur's silence as a sign to continue.
'It started when I was about eight, and they began doing small things like locking me in my room and making me miss meals as punishments, but it's just escalated since then and it keeps getting worse, and I... Wil, I don't know what to do, I think they're going to kill me soon. I don't want to die Wilbur. I really don't.'
'Shit, Tommy. I don't know what to say.' Wilbur swallowed before asking another question. 'Uh, I also saw your arms. Do you wanna talk about that? I understand if you don't and that's completely okay.'
In response, Tommy just shook his head and said he didn't want to talk before they both went silent.
'I should go before they come downstairs' Tommy realised, and Wilbur nodded understandingly and ended the call. Trying to stand up, Tommy's back brushed against the wooden spine of the chair and he let out an anguished wail before clapping his hands over his mouth. His parents were sure to have heard that. As if it were responding to his thoughts, he heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and immediately recognised them as those of his father.