Misery Loves Me
Warning for Thomas fictives/IRLs, there's mentions of canon events so read with caution
Warning for sleep deprived hallucinations
Written with the Whumpril day 2 prompts - Insomnia - Stress - "Get some rest"
Rain.
There was always rain.
Maybe it was some kind of symbolism in Thomas’ life, maybe it was a sign that things were about to get so much worse, if that was even possible, if things even could get worse.
An aura of guilt weighed on his mind, acting as a barrier preventing him from sleeping, a fear of seeing them every time he closed his eyes.
The price of his selfishness, the price of his ignorance.
Tap, tap, tapping.
His foot against the floor
Tap, tap, tapping
Droplets of rain against the window
Tap, tap, tapping
His foot sped up, matching the speed of his thoughts, increasing the beat of his heart
Tap, tap, tapping
His heart in his chest, a violent, beating reminder that he was still alive, that he had gotten out of that place while they hadn’t.
Looking away from the window, Thomas pushed himself to his feet, trying to think about something else, anything else, something other than the mistake he had created. The lives he had managed to ruin, the lives that he had helped end.
And yet you’re completely fine. They’re restless in their coffins and you’re completely fine Alive and well It was your fault What are you complaining about?
And there it was, right on schedule, as his eyelids started growing heavier by the second and his thoughts started screaming his own mistakes right back at him, louder and louder by the second, shouting out how he shouldn’t have taken that job, how he shouldn’t have gone back, how he shouldn’t have created that goddamn Machine
He should sleep. He knew that. But, he couldn’t.
Not while they were still here.
Thomas felt restless, there was always something playing on his mind, it was always enough to stop him from sleeping as he lay staring at the ceiling for countless nights and hours, events and conversations playing on repeat in his mind as he tried to think where could’ve fixed something, what he could’ve done better, the people he could’ve, should’ve saved
That last conversation with the studio’s old gofer You had a chance to help him
The last time he had seen Scott You should’ve listened to him
The argument he had with Sammy about the ink You could’ve stopped him
That kid that Scott had taken in, he had introduced him to the Machine, introduced him to the ink, then one became three and three became one again You led them to their demise You never should've taken him
The days he knew the Demon was locked up, pacing and roaming inside those four walls Why didn’t you free him? You could’ve destroyed him
Those hours he spent creating and fixing the Machine You could’ve destroyed it You should’ve destroyed me You had a chance, why didn’t you take it?
He felt a drop of something wet on his palm, a tiny drop of blood, barely noticeable but still enough to make him flinch slightly, tiny splinters dotted across his palm from where he had been gripping onto the wooden window ledge, he wiped his palms on his trousers, flinching at the sensation of shards of wood in his hands.
“Thomas.”
He spun around, silent, steady, his eyes wide, his hands quick to curl into fists, ready. Waiting. What are you waiting for?
“Hey, whoa, it’s just me,” Thomas recognised her voice, it seemed to almost merge with the others, the others that screamed and cried at him almost daily, but her’s was different, her’s was real, “Are you alright?”
“Yes.” You answered too quickly, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’ve been staring out that window for nearly two hours.” She was in front of him now, he could feel her hand taking his, warm, filled with blood and a steady pulse, warm and alive, she looked down at his palm, noticing the small splinters that were dotted on his palm before turning to look up at him, he forced himself to look back at her, meeting her eyes, holding her gaze despite something screaming at him to look away.
Her blue eyes. They made him feel safe. It was almost enough to soothe him to sleep
Don’t
“You look exhausted, have you been sleeping?”
A nod, he couldn’t speak a lie to her face, he wouldn’t speak a lie to her face, she wouldn’t understand, she couldn’t understand. None of this was her fault.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m fine, Allison,” Thomas managed to force a smile, squeezing her hand in his, trying his best to reassure her, he hated seeing her worry, especially about him, “I promise.”
Allison gave him a look then, a look that was somewhere between concern and doubt, “Hm… I really think you should go get some rest..”
“I’m fine,” He let go of her hand, shoving them into his pockets, staring her in the eyes as he spoke, “I’m fine.”
“You look like death, Tom.”
“I’ve had a lot of work to do.”
“With who? You don’t work for anyone anymore.”
He flinched inwardly, looking away from her. It'd been years since he last worked for someone, had a steady job, no matter how much he’d been treated like shit, no matter how much it played with his morals.
“Yeah, well, I’ve been working either way.”
“Thomas.”
“Allison. I’m fine, okay?”
“Thomas.” Allison said his name with a little more force this time, forcing him to look her in the eyes as she spoke again, “I wasn’t asking you. Go and get some rest. You need it.” Before he had a chance to protest, she grabbed ahold of his arm, pulling his hand out of his pocket and pulling him towards the door, out of the room and down the corridor towards their room.
The mechanic could tell that there was very little he could do to change her mind so he didn’t bother trying. He stifled a sigh and forced his feet to follow her’s, forcing his eyes to stay open, even as they grew heavier and heavier by the second.
“...Fine.” He said, finally giving in to the concept of sleeping, it sounded nice. Maybe they’d stop talking if he slept.
“Thank you.”
