It's Okay, It's a Strategy (to ensure I remain)

Chapter 11: Tensions Rise

TW!! - vomiting, implied abuse, derealization(?)

A few days had passed since Tommy and Tubbo's fight, and things had not been getting much better.

They had, admittedly, gotten much worse.

Tubbo had been avoiding Tommy, only speaking to Ranboo to communicate around him. And Tommy would be lying if he said it didn't hurt, because it did. It hurt a lot. In turn, Tommy avoided Tubbo as well.

But Tubbo was angry, and Tommy had lied, and Ranboo?

Ranboo looked like he was falling apart trying to keep their friendship together, making sure to include Tommy in every conversation despite Tubbo's efforts to shut him down.

Tommy appreciated the effort, but Ranboo had been acting weirdly around him as well. Ranboo would avoid eye contact with Tommy, constantly looking like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the right words. It made Tommy feel uneasy at times.

Did Ranboo know something?

Ranboo was acting as the glue to their friendship, and that glue was wearing out and becoming thin. And Tommy knew he was the reason why.

Tubbo would continue his silent treatment towards Tommy, even with Ranboo's efforts.

Tommy was hurt. He really was. He knew what he was doing was wrong, and illegal, and hiding things from his friends was a horrible thing to do, but what else could he do? Tell them and they make him quit? Quit doing what he loved? His sole reason for living was being a vigilante, and he took pride in being able to keep people safe. If he couldn't even do that, then what was his purpose?

In a way, he understood why Tubbo was acting like this. Tubbo saw that Tommy got hurt, and he connected the dots to know that whatever Tommy was hiding from them had contributed to this injury. Which meant whatever he was doing was hurting him. Tommy could understand the concern, and the anger that came with worry.

But that didn't mean it didn't hurt. Every time Tubbo would ignore him made Tommy's spirit die a little more each time.

It was the same everyday. Wake up, have a painfully silent and awkward breakfast, go to work, work his boring six hour shift, go home, commit vigilanteism, rinse and repeat.

He felt like his world became monochrome, gray colors painting his vision. Everything that once filled him with happiness had become another monotonous task. His brain felt foggy 24/7 and he'd been losing track of how often he'd stare into space to get away from this reality, to forget about it all for at least a few seconds.

Bad didn't even show up to the cafe some days, leaving the young boys to open the cafe. Skeppy was gone completely, not even a goodbye before he left Tommy's life. Tommy felt a tug of concern in his chest.

On the days Bad was there, he'd be distant from the three teens, not fully conscious and present. His eyes were cloudy and wide, and there was something growing and ugly in them. There was something wrong with Skeppy and Bad, but he didn't know what or how he would be able to fix it.

Was it his problem to even fix? He wasn't responsible for them.

Something still felt wrong regardless, and he could hardly recognize the feeling from feeling it so often over the past week. He couldn't tell if the feeling was real or fake.

And so he pushed it down, pushed everything down, and continued through the day. The sooner he could get his shift over with, the sooner he'd be out on the roofs again, defeating crime and protecting the city.

Worst of all, Puffy had noticed his melancholy state. She had taken to giving him sympathizing glances and filling his tip jar more than usual. She never pitied him, but boy, did this feel like pity. He wanted to burn every dollar bill she gave him and erase that sympathy that looked far too much like pity for his liking.