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Life had gotten worryingly mundane. It had been a rather abrupt realization to come to in the middle of his third hour study hall, Tommy’s eyes snapping up from where they had been lazily unfocused on the grimy linoleum. What concerned him even more, however, was the fact that it couldn’t remember when life had descended into overwhelming grayness. All at once was the realization that he had been a passenger in his own life... and when was the last time they had been fully present for a conversation with someone?
Tommy’s head felt full of cement dust, excruciatingly heavy, but whenever it tried to close their hands around a thought or an emotion, everything crumbled away. Why did he feel so fake? Somewhere between leaving study hall and curling into a distant stairwell, Tommy had started crying, silent open-mouthed sobs hidden behind their mask as he clutched himself in an attempt at some sort of comfort. Dull fingernails tried and failed to bring grounding relief, and it curled tighter in on themselves. He was going to drift away in an empty stairwell and there wasn’t any proof they had ever even existed. Had he ever existed? No? No. No no no no no…
“... no no no no…” the tears grew torrential and he felt like they were drowning.
Salt and snot ran into its open mouth as the word ‘no’ lost meaning, repetition making it feel foreign on his tongue but they couldn’t stop. There was nothing, and there was no one. It was only Tommy, stuck in its own head, daydreaming about being alive. He had made up all of this, some kind of fucked up, convoluted dream and someday it was going to end and they were going to wake up… Where? Would that life be fake too? A Russian nesting doll of dreamworlds until he finally just died? It was all too goddamn much.
Faintly outside of the self induced roaring in his head, Tommy could hear shoes squeaking, interwoven with indiscernible chatter. Class must have ended . A class that might not even exist… The train of thought crashed when something collided with his side, the pain of the impact making what had become a comforting fog of disorientation and panic melt away. That had to have been fucking real. Then the panic came back tenfold as their current situation rammed into him. Tommy was curled on the floor… in the middle of the school day, and he really had no clue how long it had been there. Or how many people had seen them there, shaking. FUCK.
Scrambling to its feet, Tommy scrubbed furiously at his eyes before shoving his way through the river of people still coursing through the hallway. There was no goddamn way that they were going to stay when possibly everyone ( does it matter though, you made them up... ) had seen him breaking down. People didn’t seem to be very happy with the way it was navigating his way out of the school, but the only thing that mattered anymore was getting out, getting away. After all, if their brain wasn’t lying to him, none of this mattered anyways, because he didn’t fucking exist.
Someone was shouting, but the second it breached the walls of the school, Tommy started sprinting. He felt weightless, the wind and sun and dim film of reality counteracting the stinging dryness of his eyes and the looming weight of his actions as they ran as fast as they possibly could across the massive front lawn. There were absolutely teachers behind him but there was no way it was going to stop, they were already too far into the mindset of run you fucking bitch, run!
It could have been running for hours, or even just minutes, but eventually the shouting voices and pounding of feet ceased and Tommy slowed down. His heart was pounding in his ears and everything was buzzing and bright as blood rushed to their face. Tommy had really just run from its school… TOMMY HAD JUST RUN. Oh fuck he was dead. All of the leftover delerium drained from their muscles as the reality ( heh, reality, that was fucking ironic considering why he had run in the first place ) of what he had just done sank in.
With shaking legs, it sat down on the curb and slowly pulled his phone from the pocket of his cargo shorts. As if on panic mode autopilot, he pulled Wilbur’s contact up, pressed dial and watched as it began to ring.
“Tommy? Shouldn’t you be in class right now kid?” Wilbur’s voice was confused and harboured just the right amount of concern that it made Tommy smile despite the excruciatingly deep shit he had just gotten himself into.
“Hey big man, I-” they ran a trembling hand through their hair “I may have fucked up a teensy tiny bit… and now I need your help.” Despite the sheepish nature that its voice took on, their words still sounded all wet and trembly and there was no way that Will hadn’t heard it.
“...” there was some aggressive rustling and then the jingling of keys from the other side of the phone “Toms, do you know where you are right now?” He sounded like he was trying incredibly hard to not panic, and Tommy winced.
“Um… I- let me l- let me look around.” Tommy stood shakily and started looking for street signs.
After walking (shuffling) to the end of the block he had been sitting in, they recited the street signs to Wilbur and heard the slam of a door from the other end of the phone and Will’s car roar to life. It was almost comforting to sit in silence if Tommy pretended that the past few hours (?) hadn’t happened and that this was just sitting on call with Wilbur, who happened to be driving.
The floating feeling that accompanied feeling unreal began to creep back into their head, and Tommy let his body sag against the pavement and the signpost it had been leaning on. This was the messiest situation he had come up with yet… but that was the good thing about being made up, he supposed. It hardly heard Will pull up alongside the curb. Is thinking… real? What would it be if it wasn’t me to me… like…
“-my? Hey… Tommy? Can you hear me bud?” Wilbur was right in front of him, a tentative hand hovering in the space between them. He must have seen some sort of recognition in its eyes because he reached out the rest of the way to place his hand on Tommy’s arm, which was wound loosely around his knees. “Hey sunshine, let’s get you home and then we can talk about why you were here in the first place.”
Tommy gave a weak nod and let Wilbur guide it off of the pavement and into his waiting car.
“M sorry ‘lbur I jus-” he scrubbed a hand down his face, trying to unstick the words from their brain.
“We can talk about it when we get you home Toms, just rest.” Will’s words were soft but stern, and Tommy could tell that its appearance did nothing to settle his brother figure’s worries about him.
The car ride was short, but also inconceivably long as Tommy stared out the window, swathed in silence. Will stared straight ahead, seemingly lost in his own thoughts, and they were happy to leave him to it. Tommy certainly didn’t have the energy to put on his internet persona right now and break the quiet, or put a stop to what was most likely Wilbur psycho-analyzing the shit out of him. Thankfully, their slippery hold on reality stayed, and the floating was put at bay, at least for now, as they awaited what was probably going to be the most difficult conversation of his entire life.
Will pulled into a parking space along the street in front of his flat and shifted into park before finally turning to Tommy and clearing his throat.
“We’re here…”
Tommy snorted “Yeah no shit big man.”
Will let out a small laugh and gestured towards the house with a sigh “Well, lets go have a talk then, shall we?”
“Shall we? My name is Wilbur Soot and I use fancy words because I wanna sound smart meh meh meh.” it mocked and Wilbur laughed in earnest this time.
“C’mon gremlin, at least I’m not short…”
“HEY!”
Will bolted from the car, slamming the door dramatically behind him and racing for his house as Tommy raced after him.
“YOU TAKE THAT BACK! YOU’RE JUST FREAKISHLY TALL!”
The pair entered Will’s flat laughing and Tommy shoved him lightly.
“Thank you, Will, for uh- ya know, coming and getting me.”
The lighthearted mood dissipated and Wilbur sighed “Toms, you’re my little sibling, you seriously think I’m just going to not come and get you when you call sounding like you’ve been crying for the past four thousand years?”
“Hey! I didn’t sound that rough, jeez Mr. Dramatic. But- I just, thank you anyway.” Tommy stuffed their hands in their pockets and looked down at the faux wooden floors.
“Lets go sit down, you look like you’re about to fall asleep on your feet kiddo.” Will said softly, ruffling his hair and then slinging an arm around its shoulders to lead it to the couch.
“What happened today Tommy?”
“Will, do you ever just- I don’t know, not feel real? Like, everything is fake and you’re fake and nothing has ever been real and then you just get really scared?” It curled into Wilbur’s side and took a deep breath. “Sometimes I get these really bad thoughts… like everything is made up and someday I’ll wake up and the whole life I’ve been living will have been fake and I’ll never get to see anyone again because I made everyone up… and I don’t want to have made everyone up! I want to be real Will! I-” Tommy sniffed, and roughly wiped his face on Will’s shoulder “I want to be real.”
“Oh Tommy, babylove of course you’re real. Everything around you? Everything you can see, and smell? Everything you can touch? That’s all real. I promise you it is.” he carded his free hand gently through Tommy’s hair.
“B-but how can you be sure?! What if I made them up? What if I made you up? What if I made you telling me that everything is real up? I just- Will…” they started sobbing into his shoulder, gasping for breath as Wilbur shushed it.
“Toms, I promise you, with everything in me and everything I love, that this is real. You didn’t make your life up. You’re living it, every single second of every single day. You are so real, and this? Right now? This is real.”
“I- I had a b- a b-” Tommy took a deep, uneven breath “I had a breakdown in- in the hallway, and…” they shuddered “And everyone saw me! Everyone saw me and some-someone kicked me so… so- so I ran away.”
Wilbur continued to pet its hair gently “Oh honey I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you had such a rough time. Do you want to go take a nap while I call your parents and let them know that you’re okay? You must be exhausted.”
Tommy nodded and Will helped him get off of the couch, an arm still around its shoulder. The pair walked, albeit slowly and slightly zombie-like, to Wilbur’s bedroom and Tommy sagged onto the bed, not bothering to pull his shoes off before letting their eyes drift shut.
He was real, and Wilbur was going to make sure his Mum didn’t murder him.