I Am Not A Vessel For Your Good Intent (Ticci Toby x FTM!Reader)
PROLOGUE - 'Cause, In the Night, I Know You Burn With Feelings
link to the next chapter!!!
1.5k words
Summary: Last year, Toby had murdered his father with an unknown motive. Seeing as you two had been together since middle school, it left you completely broken. Your whole world had shattered into a million pieces. Grief is a given in this situation, but it's made worse by a promise you'd made him back at the start of middle school, seven months after getting with him. You'd promised him that if one of you, or god forbid both of you, were to move away or something of that sort, you'd meet up in a special spot in the forest on Toby's birthday. It just so happens that today was his birthday and the memories were eating you alive. Should you uphold your promise? If he's dead it won't matter even a little, but what if he's alive...?
Youâd never quite processed the damage heâd left on you until now. As you stared at your far too bright phone screen, inadvertently causing your eyes to strain as the darkness engulfed your peripheral vision, you felt that you could cry. It was Tobyâs birthday today, and you were wondering if making good on your promise would make you feel better.
Years ago, roughly seven months after youâd gotten together with Toby at the start of your middle school years, you had made him a promise. If one of you, or god forbid both of you, were to move away from this city or something of that kind, youâd meet up in the two of youâs favorite spot in that goddamned forest at around noon. That way, he would never have to spend his birthday alone again. Youâd made the promise with a shit eating grin on your face, unbeknownst to what the future held.
Last year, Toby murdered his own father in that awful house. Heâd murdered him and then ran into the forest, seemingly never to be seen or heard from again. Authorities had searched that forest high and low, but never seemed to find him- dead or alive. That open ended ending left you crushed, but nothing left you feeling as hurt as you did right now.
The blankets youâd cuddled up in crinkled and shifted around you as you sat up in your bed. You still lived with your parents, considering the shitty housing prices that dominated your city. Youâd been dreaming of moving to somewhere with better housing prices, but one thing held you back.
The idea that Toby was still alive somewhere in that forest. The ambiguous closing of the case, while having left you severely depressed, had turned you mean. Angry. You refused to accept it, even when it was plastered all over the news channels your parents left on before leaving to work. They claimed they were just leaving it on so your pets werenât in silence prior to you waking up, but in the moment it felt to you as if they were taunting you.Â
Who the hell did they think they were? They knew what you were going through, knew heâd be all over the news, knew full well that there were a bunch of other channels to leave on, and yet they left the news channel running anyways.
At the time, you would always blow up their phone out of pure anger mere moments after going into the living room. Nowadays, youâve started bottling everything up, not even giving them the time of day whenever they made ignorant decisions. Youâd assumed it meant you had healed, but clearly not.
Remembering all of it left you in tears as you curled up into a ball, trembling from both the cold of your room and the weight of your emotions. Your bed was comfy, but the memories of the rainy days youâd spent tangled up in each other did nothing but haunt you. So, you decided to get up.
As late as it was, you knew your therapist would much rather you find a distraction than do something harmful to yourself. Such began your search for said distraction.
Considering it was just about to become six in the morning, your brain refused to shut up about the bakery your parents had taken the two of you to every now and again. It opens at six am, youâll never forget that. There was no possible way to. Remembering the way youâd wake up the following day of a sleepover and BEG your parents to take the two of you to that bakery as soon as the alarm clock on your bedside hit six am made your heart hurt.
You missed being a kid. You missed being a kid with him. You missed the shared laughs, the flirtatious âjokesâ youâd shoot back and forth in your last year of elementary school, you missed the way heâd get so excited to see you after youâd finally gotten together. Heâd act like a puppy, following you around when he could and holding onto you when possible. Sure, the other kids laughed at you two, but nothing could have possibly torn you two apart.
What you didnât miss, though, was his god awful father. Even though heâd pretend to be all sunshine and rainbows in front of you, you heard the horror stories from Toby. You heard the way his father spoke to him, the way his father hit him and his family. You felt nothing but hatred towards him, always thinking to yourself how he was better off dead. You never meant it, though.
You shook your head, trying to calm your mind. You went over what you were told in your head. How you were told that your best bet for now was to avoid things that could cause you to feel hurt all over again.
How were you supposed to fight the thoughts on his birthday, though? How were you meant to push aside the memories like theyâre nothing today?
You slowly moved your legs to hang over your bed, staring at the floor beneath your feet once youâd done so. Your stare was blank, but your mind was racing. You couldnât slow it down, not like this. You looked towards your closet, having one thing in mind to get out.
Two years ago, Toby had bought you an otter plushie for your birthday. You cherished it, bringing it everywhere with you. It was just the right size to hold in your arms without being a nuisance. Itâs what youâd always complain about when it came to stuffed animals, they just never seemed to get the sizing right. Ever.Â
As you stood up, your feet felt glued to the floor. You wanted nothing more than to cuddle up in your bed with it, you wanted to sink into the rabbit hole of memories with him⌠and yet you knew better. You knew how much it would kill you to do that, acknowledging what today was.
And yet, here you were, taking uncertain steps towards your closet. Not just from the darkness that enveloped you, but from the nerves that rattled up your spine. Were you really about to do this? Were you really about to search for that plushie?
âŚ
Yes.Â
Yes you were.
After youâd reached the closet door, you felt around for the knob. The chipped paint on the door scraped up against your fingers, but eventually you found one of the knobs. As you stepped back and pulled the door open, you felt tears sting your eyes. You did your best to shake it off, telling yourself that you needed to face the grief if you ever wanted to get better. It did little to actually help, though.
Your eyes scanned your closet, straining yet again as you tried to find it by your limited vision alone. After it very clearly wasnât working, you began to feel around.Â
However, instead of finding the plushie, you found something that hurt worse.
Pulling it out of the darkness of your closet, you stared hard at the clothing item in your hand. You were trying so hard to convince yourself you were seeing things, that this wasnât what you thought it was. That you were just making things up. Surely the darkness was just playing tricks on you, right?
However, upon stumbling back to your bed, you gently laid the hoodie on your bed and grabbed your phone. As you turned on your phoneâs flashlight, wincing a bit at the brightness, the hoodies colors registered in your mind.Â
This was it. Tobyâs favorite hoodie. The hoodie you were given by his mother a couple days after the officials had told them that they couldnât find him anywhere in the forest. Sheâd told you that she knew youâd cherish it.
Sometimes youâre beyond grateful that sheâd given it to you, but other times you werenât so sure.
You stared at the hoodie, debating silently to yourself whether or not you should put it on. For several months, this hoodie was all you wore shirt wise. You refused to just wear a regular t-shirt, even through the heat of summer. You needed something to ground you, seeing as your whole world was crumbling beneath you. Your parents did their best to comfort you themselves, but after asking for therapy and receiving bi-weekly sessions, you felt as though you were just being told to bottle up your emotions.
Once youâd come back down to earth after zoning out, you realized that youâd gone on auto pilot and unconsciously put the hoodie on over your pj shirt. As you stared down at it blankly, you sniffled as tears began to rain down onto the blanket in front of you. You sink to your knees at the edge of your bed, curling up into a ball again and pulling the sleeves closer to you.
Everything is too much. Way, WAY too much. How were you meant to go on like this?














