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Tommy felt dazed.
Like really fucking dazed.
Why was he dazed? He was sick as fuck.
Everyone else was busy with their own things. Techno training for the next fight because ‘it could happen at any second’, Phil planning out battle strategies for some reason (no one ever stuck to Phil’s battle strategies). Wilbur was somewhere doing fuckall.
And Tommy didn’t want to bother them. Tommy didn’t want to annoy them.
His brain kept telling him to go somewhere for some fucking reason.
He didn’t even want to get up in all honesty, the sickness in him weighing down his bones to the point where getting up would be a chore.
But something made him get up.
Tommy felt more dizzy, like he had no control of his own body. He was being pushed around to go somewhere that he himself had no idea where he was going.
The blonde kept stumbling in his steps, all his efforts to stop moving fell flat.
He just kept getting pushed somewhere.
Then it hit him.
He’s a superhero and he has enemies.
Enemies who want him dead.
Enemies that had powers to make him go wherever the fuck they wanted him to go.
This wasn’t good.
Tommy tried screaming out, trying to get someone’s attention.
But nothing was working. No noise erupted from his throat despite his efforts.
He went to the front door and pulled it open.
There was a box waiting on his doorstep.
The hero lifted up the box and went back to the kitchen.
He didn’t want to do this, he didn’t want to open the fucking box.
His head was already too fucking dizzy because of his sickness as is not even mentioning the dizziness of being mind-controlled.
His hands were moving out of his control and he just felt so pathetic he couldn’t stop it.
Tommy just had to play by the rules, after all, how could he break the rules when he was not allowed to? Not even given the chance to.
His hands moved around the counter frantically, finding a glass and filling it up with water.
His hands tore up the box, finding a bottle of white powder.
The blonde’s hands almost tauntingly opens the lid and ever so slowly pours it into the glass of water.
His hands shakily grip the cup.
He knows that water is poisoned.
He knows he shouldn’t drink the water.
But, realistically, what can Tommy do?
He puts the cup to his lips and slowly tips it up.
The water gushes down his throat.
The last drop of water from the cup falls.
The dizziness of the mind control has dissipated.
Now he was just dizzy because he was sick.
Barely a few seconds passed, he dropped to his knees on the floor.
Why did it become so hard to breathe? He started coughing. And he kept coughing, and he couldn’t fucking stop.
Tommy kept coughing over and over to the point where he was coughing up blood.
He was coughing loudly as well. Anyone in the house could hear.
That’s probably why he heard running footsteps going towards him. But he could barely focus on it, his eyes shifting to see the pool of blood underneath him.
It all brought him back to before he met Phil, Wilbur and Techno.
He was lying on the floor, injured. He didn’t follow the rules, he suffered the consequences.
All the injuries, all the cuts engraved into his skin.
All the old wounds came back to him like a pile of bricks.
He felt like a kid again.
A kid who just kept getting hurt for no reason, a kid who deserved more than that treatment.
His abuser held his throat, choking him, yelling at him.
Tommy should’ve just listened to the rules, he never should’ve broken them.
Tommy was still coughing up the blood but his hands reached to his collarbone, feeling where he’d been choked.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Everything felt more real, he still couldn’t breathe, blood was still erupting from his mouth every other cough.
He felt hands on his shoulders.
Wilbur’s hands, Wilbur’s hands were pushing energy through them, trying to heal up Tommy as quickly as he could.
Tommy felt his muscles stitch themselves up, his muscles which were cramped originally loosening up.
It started becoming easier to breathe.
He wasn’t coughing up blood.
He was okay. Well, as okay as he could be.
“Toms, Toms are you okay?” Wilbur said from next to him.
Tommy collapsed into his arms, hugging him tightly.
“I thought I was gonna die.” Tommy breathed out, hugging Wilbur tighter.
“Shhh, Toms, you're okay, you're with me, Techno and Phil are here too” Wilbur soothed, pressing a kiss to the top of Tommy’s hair.
Tommy took a minute to realize he was okay, he was going to be okay and he was alive.
The younger slowly released himself from the hug, going to hug Phil and Techno as well.
“What happened kid?” Techno whispered, while hugging his younger fighting partner? Brother?
“I got fuckin’ mind controlled or some shit. I had to put poison in water and drink it. I didn’t want to at all. Tech, I thought I was gonna die I was terrified” Tommy said, his voice cracking between certain words.
Phil made a squawk of disapproval at this, a little unsure of how the younger got mind controlled.
Tommy jumped on Phil next, getting a hug from him was always the most comforting.
“Kid, I made sure none of us could get mind controlled via spells, are you sick or something?” Phil asked, a little confused.
Tommy’s voice was just a bit nasally but he chalked it down to Tommy crying only moments before.
But he has been coughing, his voice has been nasally.
“Toms, why didn’t you tell us you were sick?” the older blonde asked.
“Because,” Tommy scrambled to find something to say, “I didn’t want to inconvenience you, I’m not your responsibility, I’m my own responsibility. We’re just colleagues that know each other too well, I shouldn’t put my problems on you”
No one spoke, taking in what Tommy said for a minute.
Phil wrapped them all in a hug again, wanting to just be in eachothers company before anything else could happen.
They could talk about what Tommy said later.
Now? All that mattered was them.