Troublemakers!Benchtrio AU

Chapter 12.5

  ***

  What on Earth am I doing up at 6 AM posting? Well, I start school today.

  And I've adjusted my schedule a whole ton and all that. And now I am up writing for 30 minutes everyday at 6 AM instead of 9:30 PM.

  Since school sucks, here's something to make it better : D

  P.S. With this change, it now makes it so you guys can binge read during classes, since I know some people can read during school. Ur welcome ; )

  ***

  Saaad. : (

  U guys all hate Tubbo for last chapter, but... well... he has his reasons. And this is only part of the reason lol.

  Anyways, this is a bit more of a Toby centric chapter. We've had a lot of Rylan centric, as you've probably noticed, and it's drifting towards Tommy but it will be gradually shifting over to Toby, and further to Tommy, as we go. I just had Ry's past/personality planned out the best, so I started the angst with him.

  Art is the husbands in some nice clothes by Vita. Song is Problems by Mother Mother.

  Please read the trigger warnings accordingly. Also, if you do not know what any of these are, please look them up beforehand. Stay safe! 

  Trigger Warning(s): Swearing, self-hate, voices / bad thoughts, distorted body image, low self-esteem / self-worth, binge eating, purging, throwing up, crying-ish. 

  Toby's POV: 

  I sat alone on the couch of our living room, and I f*cking hated it. 

  I missed Tommy and Rylan, more than I ever could imagine. I was so used to having them join me on the couch, and we'd just cuddle and do something like watch TV or whatnot. And now that it wasn't happening, it was hard to cope with.

  A bucket of half-eaten ice cream sat in my lap, spoon in the carton. I was in an old hoodie Ry had given me because it was too small for him and was clutching a necklace in my right hand. A small compass with Tommy's name in the middle was engraved in the small silver pendant.

  I was miserably failing to console myself with their absence.

  Honestly, what the h*ll was wrong with me? Why was my first reaction to Tommy having family issues again f*cking yelling?

  I muttered more angry curses at myself, gripping the necklace harder. I stared down at the frozen dessert in my lap, and then made a face. I'd eaten half the thing myself, and wasn't sure if I could stomach anymore.

  It seemed comical almost, eating ice cream to cope. Like something from the movies. Unfortunately, it was real, and I was struggling to keep from binge eating anything else. 

  I stood up, shoved the dessert back in the freezer, then flopped back on the couch. Why the f*ck had I eaten so much anyways? Ice cream was not a good substitute for two consecutive missed meals. 

  Then again, I needed those, right? To bring down my body weight. 

  Which returns to the reason, why the f*ck had I eaten all that ice cream? I suddenly felt very guilty for eating my feelings away. 

  Why had I done that? I was back tracking all the progress I'd made this week. I groaned, covering my ears with my hands and curling up on the coach, hoping that it would maybe make my thoughts go away.

  It didn't, and it got worse. 

  I was fat, wasn't I? Why'd I done that? I needed to be in better shape. Eating that much definitely wasn't a good thing. 

  F*ck it, I was going to have to go to the bathroom, wasn't I?

  I sat up, resisting the urge to bang my head on the couch. Couldn't my stupid brain let me wallow in misery without unecessary interruptions? 

  I sank back down onto the couch, wrapping my arms around myself.

  I was fine. I wasn't overweight. No, no. I was. 

  But, I'm average weight? Though, when I looked in the mirror, I wasn't like Ry or Tom. 

  But I wasn't. Why was this so important now? It hadn't been before? Or had it, and I just ignored it? Or was it a problem now because I'd been eating unhealthy.

  I like food. Did I eat too much? Was that why? 

  No, I wasn't fat. Tom and Ry would have told me.

  No, they wouldn't have. They wouldn't want to make me feel bad. Or maybe they were scared I'd start screaming at them like I had earlier. 

  Probably just scared, because I'm a sh*t person.

  I turned restlessly onto my side, staring at the worn fabric of our couch. It was a dark grey, not quite black, and was in shambles. There were holes and stains galore, and was just overall a mess. But we couldn't afford another one, and it was fine as it was. It made it more homey, I guess, having left our marks on it. 

  I could see a scorch or two presumably from one of Tommy's cigarettes. Coke stains, also from Tom. Alcohol spills, beer splotches. Me. I didn't really see anything from Ry, unless some of those holes on the arm rest were from his boney elbows. 

  Man was a skeleton, I swear. Better than chubby though. 

  I dragged a hand down my face, wanting to get up and do it, but not wanting to get up and do it. 

  In the end, I dragged my sorry *ss to the bathroom. I stared at myself in the mirror, judging every curve and edge. I stepped on the scale. 121 pounds (54.8 kilograms).

  I hadn't even lost that much weight. Six pounds? (bruh, that's actually, like a lot for a couple of weeks, not even a month?)

  I opened the toilet lid, and stared down at the water with slight trepidation.

  It was necessary, right? I had to lose weight. 

  I stared at my hands, then clenched it, digging my fingers into my palm. Of course I had to. I hung my necklace back around my neck, making sure the hood of my sweatshirt was out of the way.

  Then I shoved two fingers down my throat.

  This was the worst part. It made tears spring to my eyes and my throat hurt and my stomach churn. 

  It took a bit of effort, but I triggered my gag reflex and threw up the contents of my stomach into the toilet.

  I shuddered, blinking to clear my vision. I shakily straightened up and wiped my face. I took a quick mouthful of water, swishing it around my mouth before spitting it out. I flushed the toilet, wiped my face down again with a rag, erasing all tear tracks and anything else. The only thing that was off or abnormal about me now was the fact that my eyes were slightly puffy. That didn't matter. They'd be back to normal by the time Rylan might emerge from his room to search for dinner and Tom would get back from doing g*d knows what. 

  I sunk back down onto the couch, not sure whether I felt better or worse. It didn't matter though. It was all for the best. Right? 

  Bro, whY? The angst demands so much from me-