forum hurt people? hurt people! // CLOSED OxO with @im-with-stoopid

Started December 23, 2023 by @the-void-phantasmic language

tune

Atlas shot a glare in Tommahud’s direction, silently telling him to shut the fuck up before he got slapped to next Tuesday. Why was this guy so stubborn?

“I’m heading back home,” said Atlas, as if into was obvious. But it was a lie. Atlas wanted to put that off as long as he could, the longer he was in public, around people and stimuli, the longer he could keep away the bad thoughts. He felt a sense of dread at the realization that it was only noon. His eye twitched slightly as he stared at Tommahud for a moment longer, then rolled his eyes.

“And what makes you think I need your help?” He snapped, clenching his fists. “Huh? What the hell’s your problem?” He had unknowingly raised his his voice a bit, which earned him a confused stare from an innocent bystander. He exhaled harshly. He needed to stop yelling. He was in a library, damn it.

“I really don’t give a shit about the drink,” Atlas said, quieter this time. “Just mind your own damn business.”

"I don't got a problem, I just– alright, then. You 'ave a nice day out there, m'kay?"

At least Tommahud knew when he was beat. It was rare for him to be so forceful, and even rarer did it ever work. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad having one more enemy. What was it, now, three? Three enemies compared to however many people he'd met? Good enough for him.

He stepped back, landing on his cane a little oddly. The sooner he was out of this cramped aisle, the better.

"See ya 'round, maybe. And, uh, sorry. Again."

If he was being honest, he wasn't sure whether that was something to look forward to. Probably not, but he held some hope.

Atlas rolled his eyes at Tommahud. God, he hoped not. He couldn’t imagine tolerating being forced into another conversation with that man. At least he could leave now. “Whatever. I’m out.” Without waiting for any sort of response, he turned and walked away from Tommahud, out of the aisle.

He quickly headed for the doors to the library, shoulder-checking someone on the way out. It wasn’t his fault, they shouldn’t have gotten in his way. Ignoring the offended “Hey!” from the unknown person, Atlas yanked open the door and stormed out of the library.

Atlas sat quietly in a somewhat nearby alleyway, staring blankly at the sky. Being left alone with his thoughts always made it difficult to stay relatively in check with reality. But he was alone, so it wouldn’t hurt to zone out for a bit. Actually, it might hurt.

…Maybe He should have considered Tommahud’s offer a bit more.

No. He didn’t need help. And he wouldn’t let anyone think he did. That would mean being vulnerable, and being vulnerable would make others see him as weak. And that would be a whole other set of problems stacked onto the ones he already had. He did not need more problems.

But the thought still poked at the back of his mind, pestering him. Atlas bumped the back of his head against the wall he was leaning against, letting out a long groan. Half in annoyance, half in pain because it didn’t feel very good to hit you’re head against a brick wall. Who would have thought.

The commute home wasn't too bad, though Tommahud was sure there was more space in the rush-hour metro than in his own apartment. It wasn't much, but it kept him warm, at least. He could be grateful for that.

He rounded the corner that separated the bedroom from the kitchen. Maybe some food could take his mind off of the library? Doubt it. There was still that sinking feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach, dragging him down like a pool of quicksand.

Was there something wrong with him? Of course not. Probably not. Alright, maybe there was, but maybe that wasn't his issue. But then what was? Urgh. That's how he'd start spiraling, and he wasn't in the mood for that. Hells bells, if he could just think straight for once…

Mozzarella sticks!

They were half-frozen and a week past their date, but he'd had a hankering for them for a while. He shoved a tray of ten into the oven without a second thought and plopped into a chair. It creaked beneath his weight, but that was just the cranky old thing grumbling at him. He'd bet the chair was older than him if he had the money to.

What was he thinking about again? Eh. If it didn't come back to him by tomorrow, it wasn't important.

(I’m impatient and have no other motivation so ig I’m gonna do the timeskip now? I’m sorry)
(But they’re not immediately gonna interact again so I suppose that’s uh. Something)

The next day, Atlas was back at the same alley he was in the afternoon before. Why? Because he didn’t want to go to that damn library again, but he still wanted to be out, and he wasn’t really sure where else to go. He wasn’t even sure why he wanted to be out in the first place. When he was out, he had to interact with people, and people were fucking stupid.

He leaned against the wall, sliding down to the ground and huffing. He was out because it let him think about something other than what he usually thought. Because what he usually thought led him down a spiral that never ended even remotely well. He adjusted his sleeves a bit. They were rolled up to near the middle of his forearms, just long enough to cover his scars. And fresh wounds.

(This is all I could think of oops)

A trail of side-eyes and whispers always followed Tommahud when he was in public. It stung, really, but he was beginning to tolerate it. Hells, he was the one wandering aimlessly and talking to nothing. Sometimes, he could play it off as a phone call, but he'd have to remember to do that, and his memory was about as reliable as the weather. Oh well.

Tommahud shuffled past another aisle – the history section, he guessed, as the books there were as thick as cinder blocks, and they probably weighed as much, too. Someone's voice prattled on in his ears. He couldn't tell whether they were dead, though – he couldn't pick out that familiar echo the voices of the deceased had. Too loud over here.

Loud? It's a library! He rubbed his temples.

"Quiet, 'm lookin' for somethin'."

A few odd glances turned his way, and not one of those people had been talking. Whoops. Tommahud ducked away into the shelves, leaving a flurry of apologies in his wake. The spirits must've been rowdier today. That wasn't his problem, though, so he distracted himself with an Almanac that looked about as heavy as he was.