The next few days went by painfully slowly for Wilbur. His anxiety was at an all-time high to the point that he could barely force himself to eat. He spent the first day after Tommy's attempt sitting on the end of his bed, his curtains closed, the room dark, staring at the floor. The next day, he tried to be more productive, so he went into Tommy's room and meticulously went through everything, ensuring that the room was completely safe and that, when Tommy eventually returned, he wouldn't be able to hurt himself. He found a handful of blood-stained blades that the boy had hidden in various places, and flushed them all down the loo. After completely searching Tommy's room, Wilbur went around the rest of the house. He removed his own razors from his bathroom and locked them in a mini safe he had in his wardrobe; he went online and ordered another safe to put in the kitchen in which he could keep all the sharp kitchen utensils.
Finally, after a long day of sorting through the house, Wilbur felt much calmer; he had been terrified that Tommy would just attempt again when he returned, but he now felt much safer.
Wilbur spent the third day talking to Tubbo and Ranboo and telling them what had happened. As expected, both of them were shocked and felt the guilt that Wilbur had initially felt. However, he had felt that it was important to tell them what had happened because they were Tommy's closest friends.
The fourth day arrived. The doctors had called Wilbur the night before confirming that they were going to bring Tommy out of the coma that day, so he anxiously drove to the hospital, bringing a bag of clothes and supplies for the boy when he woke up.
• • •
'Toms?'
Tommy's eyes slowly fluttered open and a look of confusion spread over his face. He was obligated to stay silent for the next few minutes as the doctors removed his oxygen mask, before he began to quietly ask questions.
'W-what happened?' He asked.
'Tommy... you- you attempted...'
'Oh.'
Tommy looked down at his bandaged wrists and closed his eyes.
'Why couldn't you just have let me go?' He muttered.
Wilbur didn't know how to respond, so he stood frozen, tears silently trickling down his face as he looked at the broken blonde boy in the hospital bed.
'You could've just let me fucking die.'
'Of course I couldn't have done that, don't be fucking ridiculous Tommy.'
Tommy stayed silent, eyes still closed, so Wilbur continued.
'I need you to stay, Tommy. Please, if you're not going to do it for yourself, do it for me. I can't lose you, I can't fucking handle it.'
Tommy opened his eyes slightly and looked at Wilbur, his eyes filled with tears.
'I can't fucking handle living, Wil.'
• • •
'I'm not going into fucking residential care. That's just not going to happen.' Tommy insisted.
'Tommy, it's the best thing for you. If you're improving, they'll let you out after a couple of weeks. I'll visit you every day.'
Tommy stayed silent. He was sat up in his bed, an untouched plate of food in front of him.
Wilbur sighed. 'I know you were purging.'
'Why do you care?'
'Why wouldn't I care? Toms, you have to eat that or they're gonna put you on a feeding tube.'
'I can't. I can't do it Wil.' Tommy's eyes were brimming with tears. 'I'm so fucking scared. The court case is so soon, and I don't want to put on weight. I don't want to see them Wil, I don't want to have all these fucking memories and food is just too much to handle right now.'
'Tommy, your parents can't hurt you again. This will truly be the last time you see them, and then they're going to be behind bars. They made you stop eating as a way of controlling you, so we need to get you back up to a healthy weight to show them that you're your own person and they can't touch you anymore. Okay?'
Tommy nodded, still prodding at the food with his fork. He hesitantly took a small bite, swallowing it, grimacing as if it were covered in thorns.
'I just don't think I can do it, Wil.'
Wilbur leaned in and hugged him tightly, gently stroking his hair.
(A/N: Please remember: ALL PLATONIC!)
'Tommy, you really fucking scared me.'
'I'm sorry Wil. I really am.' Even Tommy was surprised at how genuine his words were; he had thought that he still wanted to die, but sitting there hugging his big brother, a small part of him felt relieved to be alive.
'I'll go to the residential place. But only for a couple of weeks.'
'Thank you Tommy. I think it'll be good, I really do.'
• • •
Wilbur handed Tommy the bag of clothes he had packed and the boy gratefully received it, giving him a nervous smile. The two of them went, accompanied by a doctor, into the elevator and up to Tommy's new floor.
The doctor led them to a plain but surprisingly nice room; it had a comfy-looking bed, a desk, and white-painted walls with square areas faded where it looked like posters had once hung.
'Make yourself at home, you can do whatever you want in here with decorations as long as it doesn't do any drastic damage.' The doctor said.
'Uh, thanks.' Tommy replied, walking into the room and sitting on the bed. He looked nervously at Wilbur. 'Wil, are you gonna have to go?'
'Yeah, visiting hours end in fifteen minutes. You'll be fine though, Toms.'
Tommy nodded, and for the remaining time that Wilbur had left, they unpacked what little stuff he had.
'I'll come see you tomorrow, okay?'
'Thanks Wil.'
Tommy gripped the edge of the bed in anxiety as he watched Wilbur leave his room. The door swung closed and he exhaled nervously. Lying down on the bed, he tried to take in his new surroundings, constantly reminding himself that this was only temporary and he would be able to go back home in a couple of weeks. He looked out of his window and smiled when he saw the clouds; a couple of days ago, he had thought he would never see them again.
Lying there, he felt almost peaceful. However, this didn't last long, as a nurse knocked on his door and entered, announcing to him that it was time for group activities to begin. He sighed, following the nurse down to the communal area, where other teenagers sat, looking equally as fed up as he felt. He awkwardly sat down alone at a table, grimacing as he thought about how similar this felt to the days when he still ate at school, when nobody would sit next to him in the cafeteria. However, just as this thought crossed his mind, a lanky boy with a mop of black hair sat down next to him. Tommy jumped slightly at the sudden movement, and sat frozen for a second, unsure of what to do or say.
'Hey bro, you're new here right?' The boy asked.
'Uh yeah. I, uh, I'm Tommy.' He replied quietly.
'I'm Matt. How long you here for?' Matt had taken a handful of coloured pencils and begun drawing on his paper.
'Hopefully like two weeks?'
'Lucky. I've been here for six months now.' Matt let out a forced laugh. He turned to look at Tommy, brushing his hair out of his eyes. 'You gotta draw something. Say it represents the "inner happiness" you're striving for or some bullshit like that, then they're more likely to let you out sooner.'
'Uh, thanks.' Matt passed Tommy a couple of pencils and he began scribbling lines on the paper. He turned around to look at the other kids, and saw a couple of boys being scolded by a nurse for using their paper and pencils to play a game of hangman. He stifled a laugh and turned back around, noticing that Matt had also turned around and was smirking.
'Yeah,' Matt chuckled, 'They don't like hangman here.'
Tommy smiled at him, before continuing to work on his drawing.
After the group drawing activity had finished, everyone was allowed to go back to their rooms. Walking back, Tommy and Matt discovered that they were walking in the same direction and laughed when they discovered that their rooms were on neighbouring corridors. They finally turned and went in opposite directions to get to their rooms and Tommy, exhausted, collapsed on his bed and succumbed to sleep.