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Tubbo
It was just one night.
How the hell could only one night destroy absolutely everything?
Tubbo had always been careful. He always had the best excuses and the sneakiest loopholes; he was like an escape artist. He had one important task and he was good at it. He always knew how to hide his arms.
For the world online and all his friends, he was known to always be cold. He was known to hate swimming, and to dislike clothes that revealed too much. That was why he always had long sleeved shirts, there was no other reason! It was all facts out of which none were actually true, but it had become part of him, and part of his act—his cover to never show anyone his habit. The scars from what he used to do, and still did. The cover he had been so confident no one could blow.
Tubbo had feared nothing when Tommy proposed they grilled marshmallows in the backyard, and not even when he said they should stream it. It sounded fun and innocent, and in reality, why would it go wrong? Tubbo would just wear long sleeved, like he always did. It was optimal conditions—meaning outdoors—hence making it even more natural to wear a jacket. It was quite literally the opposite to what Tubbo would see as a risky stream.
It was one thing when he was asked to swim, but this was as far from swimming as he could possibly get.
If only he had known.
If only Tommy had known...
Tommy
Tommy never assumed anything was up with his best friend. Tubbo was just a bit odd—he had a big personality, if you will—and there was nothing wrong about that.
The first part of the campfire stream went well. They had fun, cooked marshmallows, chatted and laughed together.
The problems arrived the moment Tubbo accidentally broke his wood skewer, and Tommy made him a new one using a loose stick and his pocket knife.
"Here you go!" Tommy handed the new skewer to a skeptical Tubbo. “What do you think of my work? I did that for you, Tubs.”
"Thanks!" Tubbo accepted the stick, studying the tip with suspicion, but an amused smile. "Geez, how sharp did you make this?"
Tommy laughed. "What can I say? I’m a master in the art of wood carving.”
"I can see that." Tubbo smiled even wider, stood up and seemed like he was about to take a step away. One second, Tommy wondered where he was going. The next one, he saw Tubbo fall.
The shorter boy had just stumbled over a rock, but it was enough. Falling face first towards the stone ground he pulled out two hands to support himself—one of which still held a very sharp stick.
"Fuck! Oh, god!" Tubbo yelled a moment later. He was sitting on the ground, and he would have looked okay if Tommy hadn’t seen the actual problem. Because sticking out from the top of his underarm was the stick, buried deep inside the skin.
"Tubbo!" Tommy gasped, but didn't leave his spot; he was frozen.
"Jesus, that hurts! I fucking impaled myself!" Tubbo grabbed the stick and pulled it out of his arm with a groan of pain. The entire tip of it was crimson red, and more blood quickly stained the sleeve around the small hole.
"Oh! Uh... that's not good." Tommy was out of words. Anything similar had never happened, and he wasn’t certain on how to act. "Maybe... uh, can I take a look?"
To his surprise, Tubbo hesitated to this suggestion. He glanced at his injured arm, at the camera, back at Tommy and then at the camera again, thinking about the question in a way that made it seem like something life changing.
"So I can see how bad it is?" Tommy continued when the other didn’t reply. He had already crawled up to his friend and held out a hand.
"Uh..." Tubbo looked up again. "Can I just... turn around, then?"
"What? Why?”
"...you know. TOS. Don't want Twitch to ban you."
"Oh. Yeah, that makes sense, let's do that. Twitch, don't ban me, there's nothing bad to see!”
Tubbo turned around to have his back face the camera, making sure to look over his shoulder at least three times to confirm nothing could be seen. Tommy had repositioned himself as well, facing his friend, for a second time reaching out his hand in expectation. He noticed the other boy's hand was trembling. Why?
“Does it hurt that bad?" Tommy quietly asked. "You're trembling, Tubs."
“Am I? Oh." Tubbo's eyes were wide, and then he swallowed. He seemed more terrified than anything, but maybe he was just in shock? His fingers rested on the hem to the hoodie sleeve, but he still didn't pull it back. What was he waiting for?
"You good?" Tommy felt the need to ask after a few seconds had passed.
"Uhm, yeah." Tubbo's voice was also shaking now; he must be in a lot of pain, then. "But, uhm, just so you know, there's— I mean, it's—"
Tommy frowned. "What?"
"Just... okay, fuck it.” With a deep breath, Tubbo rolled back the sleeve up to the elbow. Tommy barely even noticed the obvious red stain from where the stick had pierced Tubbo. Because below it, all the way down to the wrist, all he saw was cuts. Some white with age, some just faded, some dark red and some maybe just days old.
He immediately looked up at Tubbo, and Tubbo’s expression was completely broken, on the verge of tears and with a refusal to make eye contact. This was obviously not something Tommy was meant to see.
He grabbed the older’s arm with both hands, carefully tracing the scars with his thumbs. "I'll get first aid for the… injury," Tommy said, all while feeling his heart shatter. No matter how much he wanted to stare, question the sight and even cry, he kept himself together for the stream.
For Tubbo.
Tubbo
Tubbo watched Tommy leave towards the house before rolling back the sleeve and turning around to face the camera.
He had just done it.
Out of all people, he knew Tommy was one of those he preferred to know. He had always maintained himself from telling him anyway, maybe because he thought the boy would freak out. Now that it happened, he didn't. Of course he had seen the obvious shock on Tommy's face, but the lack of words surprised him, and he appreciated it.
When Tommy came back, he had an upset motherinnit right behind. Tubbo froze at the sight—Tommy's mother was absolutely not someone he wanted to find out about this.
“I'll do it!" Tommy argued, walking backwards to face his parent. At least he was on the same page as Tubbo, then.
"But he should see a doctor!" she insisted. "At least let me do it, I'm an adult."
"No, leave it to me. It's fine mother, I swear."
Tubbo appreciated Tommy even more for trying. Any normal stupid person would give in, allow their mother to do the job—but Tommy wasn't stupid. Or normal. (Can be interpreted in many ways.)
When Tommy reached his friend and sat down in front of him, his mother did stay behind. With a bye-bye motion using his hand, he finally managed to make her leave and Tubbo let out a breath of relief, turning his back to the camera again.
This time, Tommy took his arm so gently that Tubbo was surprised, rolled up the sleeve so carefully the fingers against Tubbo's skin tickled him. This was softness he didn't know the blonde had in him.
"Can I do it for you?" Tommy asked with a voice so low stream couldn't possibly hear. His eyes were sad and pitiful, and it made Tubbo want to trust him. He nodded.
Holding Tubbo's arm in one hand and a wet piece of cloth in the other, Tommy cleaned out the wound from the stick so gently it didn't even hurt. Tubbo knew the other was fully aware of the cuts, even if he chose to ignore them. The thumb holding his arm was grazing over them ever so often, tracing the lines back and forth. When cleaning his wound, Tommy also cleaned a few of the closest cuts. Not too far down, just enough so that it wouldn't be visible on stream. He was done after barely a minute, but it had felt like ages. At that point, Tubbo had closed his eyes, both from how comfortable it was and because his eyes were stinging with tears. He hated to admit it, but he had really enjoyed the touch.
"There you go," Tommy mumbled, but loud enough for stream to hear this time.
"Thanks." Tubbo quickly rolled back the sleeve, turning back to the camera. "Well... do we end here?"
Tommy shrugged, a lot calmer after the whole event. "I guess, yeah. Byee!"
Tubbo waved to the camera with a smile and Tommy ended the stream.
"You sure you don't want to see a doctor?" Motherinnit asked almost the second after. Tubbo looked up in panic, but quickly realized she had been standing far enough away to not have seen his arm, and he calmed down again.
“He's fine," Tommy said for Tubbo when he couldn't answer, and Tubbo nodded in agreement.
"If you say so..." Motherinnit did not seem convinced.
Tubbo stood up with confidence to prove he didn't need any hospitals and started walking along Tommy back to the house. "I feel good," he lied. "It wasn't deep at all. Just a stick, you know."
In reality he wasn't confident at all, or felt good. He felt sick and dizzy, knowing very well he should actually see a doctor. But seeing a doctor would make it worse— mentally.
He chose to avoid the hospital. For now.
Tommy
Tommy didn't talk about what had happened for the rest of the evening, because it was obvious Tubbo felt terrible about it. Not only did he avoid that topic, he avoided every conversation all together.
This naturally made motherinnit even more suspicious, and Tommy tried his best to keep her away from them. It was up to Tubbo if he wanted to tell his own parents—maybe he already had—but someone else's was a whole other story.
"You confident I shouldn't just make sure?" she tried. "It'll be quick, I promise."
"That’s really just unnecessary," Tommy defended, placing himself between his mother and best friend. "He can take care of himself. If he needs a doctor, he'll just go there once he's back home, yeah?"
"I don't need one anyway," Tubbo added with a nod.
Motherinnit rolled her eyes with a smile. "You boys are so stubborn. Well, you do you."
"We do we." Tommy placed a hand on Tubbo's arm and led him upstairs, careful not to touch any sensitive spot. He didn't know, but he could only assume Tubbo's other arm was also littered in scars.
He smiled at the smaller's look of relief and thankfulness.
When nighttime arrived, Tommy had finally locked the bedroom door and given them privacy. Tubbo was laying on a folding bed next to his own, still wearing the hoodie he had changed into.
Even now, did he still want to hide in front of his best friend?
Tommy knew he would have to talk about this, but lying under his covers and staring up at the ceiling, he couldn't make himself do. He knew Tubbo was fully awake an arm's reach away from him, also waiting for the confrontation.
"So..." Tommy began, keeping his voice low.
Tubbo immediately looked up, sudden fear in his eyes. "Don't remind me." His gaze shifted away again, this time with a look of shame, and Tommy felt his heart ache.
"Are you keeping the hoodie on?" Tommy decided to ask instead. "It's... pretty hot in here. But I can turn on the fan if you want to."
Tubbo shook his head. "You don't have to do that."
"Okay... do you want to talk, then?"
Tubbo shook his head again.
"You know... I'm here for you. You don't have to hide," Tommy tried. Just anything to get his friend to trust him again.
He half expected Tubbo to turn him away again. But to his surprise, the shorter sat up straight and buried his hands in his hair with a defeated sigh, and he took a shaky breath while tears started to glister on his cheeks like pearls.
"No, no..." Tommy whispered, crawling over to place himself in a sitting position right in front of his friend. "Tubbo, please don't cry!"
"I-I'm sorry," Tubbo half sobbed, half whimpered.
Tommy desperately jumped even closer. At this point he could just reach out his arms to be able to hug him. "Why are you sorry, Tubs?"
"You've been so kind and— and helpful, but I've been nothing but a dick towards you. I took... I took it out on you and I'm sorry because you d-don't deserve it."
"Awww..." at this point, Tommy's heart was melting just as much as it was aching. "Don't be. Of course you can take it out on me! I'm your best friend."
And with that, Tubbo wrapped his arms tightly around Tommy's waist. Tommy gladly embraced the other boy back, seeing this as a sign of success.
Minutes passed. Tubbo went to sniffling to crying so intensely Tommy had to remind him with a soothing whisper to breathe, and back to soft sobbing. But the whole time, they stayed hugging. An embrace that also shifted in strength and closeness, with Tubbo sometimes just sitting there and sometimes hanging on for dear life. Whatever he did, Tommy copied.
When he finally released, Tubbo's eyes were red and puffy, still glossy from the water and with stains of tears down his cheeks.
"How do you feel, big man?" Tommy asked quietly. Just to be safe—it was already a chance his parents had woken up from the sobs.
“Rubbish," Tubbo admitted and rubbed his eyes, making them even redder.
"Okay... but compared to before?" Tommy tried again, smiling at the honest reply.
"Then I feel amazing." Tubbo told him, then hesitated. "Thank you. For everything."
"No worries!"
As if Tubbo hadn’t already surprised Tommy enough this evening, he then looked down at his hoodie. He took a short breath, pulled it over his head and threw it on the floor.
Tommy's heart felt warm. Finally he had gained the trust of his best friend.
"If you don't mind me asking..." he slowly began, observing the lines on Tubbo's arms while trying to avoid staring. "Why did you do it?"
He was half expecting the other to start crying again—not that he would mind. But Tubbo's reply was calm. "It... replaces the pain, kinda," he mumbled. "I prefer the pain from... cutting to the pain on the inside. And sometimes I also feel like... I don't know. Like I deserve it or something."
It took all of Tommy's power to keep himself together. "The... your pain on the inside, do you know what it is from?"
"It's— no, it's silly, really. It's just in my head. It's been like that for a long time."
"I don't think it's silly."
Tubbo smiled softly. "You'd be first, then."
Tommy was quiet. Tubbo was quiet. Tommy didn't know what to say, or what to do, so he bit his lower lip and slowly nodded. He knew he wasn't capable of healing Tubbo, but maybe he could help him feel better.
He crawled back into his own bed, but not before stretching out an arm and inviting Tubbo to join him.
Tubbo did join him.
Tommy hadn't realised Tubbo was a physical person. Maybe he didn't even know he was himself. But he watched the older lay down facing him, place his forehead against his and slowly close his eyes.
Still unsure if he was allowed, Tommy rested two hands on Tubbo's upper arms, slowly and carefully allowing them to move downwards. When his fingers were met with uneven bumps, he glanced at the other, but the older boy didn't open his eyes; so he continued to graze the skin with the touch of his fingertips, softer and more careful then he thought he was able to, seeing to his success goosebumps form on the other's arms.
He liked it. Tommy took it as his cue to continue.
His hands travelled up and down Tubbo's forearms, carefully tracing each and every scar with his thumbs. He took the opportunity to silently study them—because now he wouldn't be caught staring.
Tommy imagined how it had happened. Every cut had a story behind it, and some were thin while others were so deep they should probably have needed stitches. He could see the aggression, the desperation. He wanted to cry thinking about it, but he didn't.
When he touched the scar that was probably the deepest of them all, and not all that old either, Tubbo took a short but sharp breath and Tommy immediately stopped what he was doing.
"Sorry," Tommy quickly whispered.
"No, I'm sorry," Tubbo whispered back, opening his eyes a bit and awkwardly shifting away. "That one specifically... uh... if you could just maybe avoid it."
"I can stop if you want."
"Okay." Tubbo paused. "Can we hug again?"
Tommy hummed to show his consent, and Tubbo moved closer to snake his arms around the younger's waist. The embrace was warm and firm and Tommy felt safe and calm, even when he could feel Tubbo's racing heart pressed to his chest.
“I like this," Tubbo mumbled. "It takes the pain away. It does it even better than... you know."
"You can always tell me if you get any urges or anything," Tommy assured. "I'll jump on a train to come and hug you in a heartbeat, I swear."
Still not letting go of the hug, Tubbo giggled.
Minutes later, still not letting go, Tommy fell asleep with the feeling of Tubbo's soft breath in his neck. Also not letting go, Tubbo fell asleep too.
It must be such a strange view for anyone walking into the room—two cuddling boys sharing a bed, one of them with obvious marks from crying.
At least the door was locked.