They Rely On Hope. What Do I Rely On? - Tommyinnit Adoption AU

Chapter 120

TW: mild gore, description of injuries

Tommy was agonisingly unsurprised when he felt the cold solid thing beneath him. He knew that meant he was lying on cold stone floors. No hospital bed. No Puffy. No safety. He didn't open his eyes, he knew the effort would be too much. Plus, if he did, he risked not being able to fall back asleep, so he left them shut and sunk into the stone floor beneath him.

Maybe when he woke up it would be to a different scenario, maybe not. Either way he didn't want to be conscious here. He didn't want to think about what that would mean for him.

Eventually he would have to wake. Even he knew that. When he ran out of sleep, his body insisting he had to get up, he still felt exhausted. He still wanted to lay here and sleep, but his body refused, and he knew it was time to open his eyes.

He forced his eyelids open, his vision blurring for a long moment before it finally adjusted to the world around him. It was shadowy and poorly lit, but not dark. The room was stone, dull grey surrounding him.

Tommy went to push himself up to sitting, but as he moved, the agony suddenly flooded back. In the unmoving position he had been in, his pain had faded, numbness claiming every part of him. Thanks to his idiotic movement however, his arm now felt like it had been set on fire, although, Tommy supposed that wasn't just figurative, considering that his arm had in-fact been set on fire. Stabbed too. Tommy was pretty sure any English teacher would tell him a simile can't be the truth, it had to be something it wasn't... or something... or something... honestly Tommy had no idea what the requirements for similes were. He also had no idea why he was thinking about similes when his arm had been stabbed AND set on fire.

With a groan, Tommy slid back to the floor, accepting defeat. His thoughts were fractured and unfocused, he was exhausted, his eyelids were heavy, and maybe if he closes then sleep would come. Only it didn't. Nothing he could do would call sleep too him, nothing would let him return his arm to the state of numbness it had once been. Most of his other injuries weren't too bad, which was a concerning sign that he has been unconscious for far too long. Even with that recovery time, his arm simply wouldn't stop hurting.

Tommy's head flopped to the side, and for the first time, he saw what remained of his arm. He streaked, screaming for someone to tell him this wasn't real. This couldn't be real! No. No. No, it wasn't possible. Only it had to be, because he knew it was real. The gaping hole in his forearm was very real. The burns coating the insides were dark, almost blackened, and the hole was big enough to fit a fist through. Holy fucking shit.

Words: 500

A/N: hi! Really short chapter ik, but I'm trying to write at least a little bit when I can, that way u guys still get something, sorry my break has been going on for so long, and sorry I can't write normal chapters at the moment, life is kinda a lot and my health issues r spiking up, I'm ok, but time is hard, love u all so much/p and thank u for sticking with me