Chapter Text
He had been halfway down the aisle to the stage of the Bill Murray, cheering, audience members on both sides, clapping and roaring for them - he had been on his way to perform - he had been aware of the heat and movement and excitement coming off the bodies that had surrounded him. He had been excited, ready to perform. He hadn’t been prepared for the sudden wave of exhaustion, the disorientation, the way his brain went from being okay, if tired, to a sudden crashing wave of vertigo. He hadn’t been ready for the way his legs buckled and caught. He hadn’t meant to grab on to AJ’s shoulder as he fell, head drooping, the room spinning around him.
He hadn’t meant a whole lot of things, recently.
-
“And, Tom - you’ve been getting enough sleep lately, right?” Sam’s voice was tinny through his headphones - he really needed to get nicer ones, honestly - but he hadn’t expected the words. His head was angled away, half looking at the street out of the window. They’d been going over the plans the agent had sent over, approving timesheets, figuring out who was available when and doing their best to minimize how many shows they weren’t able to go to. They’d just been in the process of calculating the cost of Luke’s flights, or at least, that was where they were at when he’d last been… paying attention.
“Sorry, what?” he looked back around, blinking at the three images on the screen. Sam’s features created with concern. “I thought we were talking about the flights..?”
“We… moved on from that about ten minutes ago.” Luke said, now mirroring Sam’s face, “We were just wrapping up. I’m going to miss the last Bill Murray of the month but should be able to do the others. Are you okay, mate?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just, uh,” he cleared his throat. “Sorry.” and he offered a faint smile, hoping it looked genuine. “Got distracted. ADHD is doing it’s thing, today.” he adjusted in his chair, feeling that itch under his skin that had been present so often recently. Tonight would probably be a ‘go for a walk’ kind of night, honestly. Maybe he could livestream for the patrons…
“Make sure you go to bed at a decent time, alright?” Sam was saying, and he forced himself to tune back in. “I know what you’re like with the admin work.”
“Alright, mum.” Tom said, with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. The others laughed; his smile was a little easier now.
“More like dad-”
“Alright!” AJ cut through them, although he was laughing, too, even if he was trying not to show it. “Let’s leave it there, okay? We’ll talk tomorrow.”
They said their various goodbyes and one by one, left the call until it was him and Sam. As Sam opened his mouth to speak, Tom pressed the disconnect button, realising a moment too late it hadn’t looked like he was going to say goodbye.
He hesitated a moment and then shook his head. If it was important, Sam would message him. It was fine. Probably nothing. He ran a hand through his hair, staring out at the street again. Someone wandered by on their phone. A car trundled past. Two bicycles whirred past, one with a Just Eat bag on the back. The sun was setting…
Wait, shit. The sun was setting. He’d lost an hour, staring out into nothingness. Jesus christ. He rubbed his eyes, then jolted to his feet, scooping his phone off the side and heading to grab his jacket. He definitely needed a walk. A little fresh air was going to do him good.
-
“Whoa, shit - Tom - you okay?” AJ had turned, and the audience was painfully quiet - those nearby had twisted in their seats, concern battled back by good old British uncertainty, the bystander effect at work. He managed to get his feet under him, straightening somewhat but glad that the solid shape of AJ was right there under him. One hand on his arm and the other on his shoulders, as he focused on standing, the ground feeling an awfully long way down. His head was still swimming, the room pitching back and forth. AJ glanced around, back towards the stage - Sam was on it but had frozen, and Luke took a step down back towards them. The chairs weren’t far, the Murray was a tiny venue but -
“Hey - here -” the audience member on his immediate right had shimmied out of their chair, and was now standing in the aisle. AJ gave them a small smile and helped Tom down into his seat; he rested his elbows on his legs and bowed his head into his lap. The room was caught; a low level muttering but mostly heavy, concerned quiet.
“We good?” Sam called, uncertainly, and Luke was next to AJ now, and all Tom could think about was how many people were watching this right now.
“Tom?” AJ prompted. “What’s going on?”
“Just went, uh, went a bit dizzy,” he admitted, pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes and swallowing hard. “Give me a sec.”
“Won’t be a moment.” Luke called out, “Sorry, guys.”
“Do you need a nurse?” one of the audience members replied, and he vaguely recognised their voice. Someone he’d seen working with regulars in medical emergencies, he was sure but - was this a medical emergency? Should he not be here?
“I’m okay.” he said, vaguely aware of Luke shaking his head.
“Do we need to push for ten minutes?” AJ asked, low, as if everyone in the room wasn’t hearing this. “We can push -”
“I’m okay, I just… it’s wearing off now.” he mumbled, and there was a low sick ache in the back of his throat. He startled as the audience member who had given up his seat reappeared, proferring a glass.
“It’s water.” he explained, softly, “Went and got it from the bar.”
Touched by the gesture - although, honestly, not surprised - he accepted it, and took a sip. It was sharply cold, pleasantly so, and he straightened his spine a little as the wooziness backed off.
“Thank you.” he said, low, genuinely. “I’m okay, honestly, just - skipped lunch and I think it caught up wit hme.” he stood carefully, AJ’s hand on his arm, but it had died back enough that he did feel a little better. Carrying his water firmly in his hand, they headed up the aisle, more sombre than before. The room was muttering. Sam reached out, clapped a hand on his shoulder, gave him a warning look - and then let him sit down. AJ took up place next to him, and Luke moved across the stage to take his seat on the other side. He was faintly glad that AJ had taken position closest to the audience - he could feel the burn of dozens of eyes fixed on him, heavy with worry and concern.
“Right, well - who’s ready for a bit of improv?” Sam called out, drawing the audience back to him, falling into an easy rhythm and as he managed to draw the first laughs out of them, Tom sipped his water and allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment.
-
His fingertips tapped on the side of the desk. There was so much to be done. This was what he did, how his brain worked. Spreadsheets and plans, organisation sometimes to the point of irritation, everything needing it’s own chart and layout and colour coding system. Sometimes people joked with him that they wished they’d gotten his particular type of ADHD, the one that drove him to do things like this, but right now, it was too much. He needed more control over it. Finances drifted by next to availability, and they all needed to be paid enough, and the horrendous price of his own tiny flat in the middle of Islington and how hard Pip worked to balance out what was a mediocre pay check even for what could be considered ‘success’ in terms of being a performer. Enough for them to live off, and pay everyone, and manage all their lives…
He nudged his phone and the screen lit up, revealing it was just after three in the morning. He cursed under his breath - he’d promised Pip that he would stay up until one at the latest, and no wonder his eyes were itching but there was just too much to be done. He was trying to make plans for bookings months in advance, trying to figure out how much they needed to save to turn around new projects behind the scenes and cover the costs of renting theatres versus the ticket costs and the words and cells were shifting in front of his eyes. Grimacing, rubbing at the itching skin, he hesitated before picking up his cold mug and making his way to the kitchen. A little caffeine, just so he could get this last bit done, and then he would go to bed.
He paced whilst the kettle boiled, tapping on his lip, wanting to go back to the computer but being familiar enough with his brain to know that walking away would result in this task being forgotten about entirely. So here he was. Pacing. Back and forth, tapping his knuckle against his lip, scraping his nails against his beard, tiny bits of physical contact to try to keep his brain from racing off again. Pip was definitely worried about him, he knew that. When he got like this… he was aware of the start of the spiral, of the creeping insomnia and constant need to keep his brain full of activities. He did his best work when he was like this, honestly.
(He also did awful work when he was like this, too - overwrought and undercooked at the same time, messy hodge-podge half constructed spreadsheets that were too specific and yet too vague to be useful. He tried not to think about that.)
The hiss of the kettle made him jump, nearly dropping his phone; rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, squeezing the flesh there slightly, grounding himself and closing his eyes in order to breathe out slowly. The pour and crackle of hot water, the rising steam changing from mere vapour to carrying the diffusing leaf fragrance into the air, the steady click of his spoon against ceramic. It was all familiar, and comforting, and when he made his way back to his desk, blowing away the hottest of the air above the lip of the mug, he felt almost normal… pulling up his spreadsheet and swearing to himself that he would be in bed before four, tonight.
-
“You’re good?” AJ murmured, barely audible. Sam was finishing off the intro, building up the audience, spending a little longer with the lighthearted teasing and picking individuals out to speak in order to draw back that awkward start. He was sure there were more eyes lingering on him than there were usually, and the worst thing was that he was sure the chat would be going wild. He wasn’t sure he was far enough forward that the livestream camera would have caught them and his descent into an audience chair, but that might almost be worse, people running away with their thoughts about just what was going on with the improvisers. Or… well, him. Shit. He rubbed his fingers over his eyes, sipping his cold water again.
“Yeah.” he mumbled back, hopefully quiet enough that the livestream mics weren’t picking them up - and he was sure the audience member on AJ’s other side would most likely be getting a little of it, but most of this crowd were regulars who knew them well and would respect them. Theoretically. Online… that was a different kettle of fish. He straightened his back, and sitting was a little better, the spin in his head had mostly settled. He was concerned about what might happen when he stood for a scene, used to throwing himself in with wild abandon as he was…
AJ rested a hand briefly on his leg, giving it a comforting little squeeze. Then Sam was calling for two performers for Change!, and he knew that he and Luke were supposed to be running this scene but AJ’s hand was on his shoulder, keeping him down, and Sam gave the tiniest of nods as he tagged in. His jaw tightened - sure, he’d had a wobble, but - he pushed back the little spark of frustration. They were looking out for him, that was all. What he’d said was true - he had skipped lunch, earlier. And… breakfast. He should’ve eaten something before the show but he didn’t like eating too close to performing because it meant he would be sleepy on the stage or feel sick, so now it had been a day since he’d eaten anything… and he hadn’t exactly been sleeping much, either.
He made a point of not looking in the mirror too much. He wasn’t too bad in his head, and he was certainly better at keeping it under wraps than Sam was, but he’d sunk too much of his youth dithering about his appearance. Waist too narrow, limbs too long, wrists too slender for the size of his hands… he leaned into being silly and goofy whilst also doing his best to constrain his movements off stage, well aware of how easy it was for him to take up others’ space. How he didn’t want people to feel afraid of the towering man. How weird he felt about the fact his shoulders were narrow for his height and the disconcerting sensation of knowing that people found him attractive when all he could see was flaws. He hated lying to people. It felt like a lie.
“Tom?” AJ nudged his shoulder and he jolted slightly, blinking into the scene in front of him. Then he got to his feet, glancing over at Sam on the other side of the stage, then over to Luke who had taken over to run this - uh - what - they’d agreed the running order ahead of time -
“- they’ll start a scene so all I need is an opening line of dialogue, please, for our performers?”
Right. Flurry. Of course. He’d stood too quickly, Sam was wavering at the edges, but he turned to smile at the audience and the cameras; his solid friend sidled up next to him, offering a shoulder to lean into, and he was grateful. He hammed it up a little, resting his elbow on Sam, angling towards him, but he was resting too much weight to just be a game and from how the other stiffened, he was clearly adjusting to provide the support he needed. They would be talking to him later about this whole thing, he wouldn’t doubt it. The worry. It was… maybe it was necessary. To talk about it.
Even if he really didn’t want to.
-
“Hey, sweetheart.” Pip slid their arms around him from behind, burrowing their face into the hood of his sweatshirt. He smiled, tilting his head back, angling sideways to kiss awkwardly at their ear. They chuckled, and drew back from the hug, resting their forearms onto his shoulders and looking at the screen. “When did you get up?” they asked, and he opened his mouth to respond, then slowly grimaced as he glanced at the clock in the corner of his screen. Whoops. They seemed to pick up on his reticence to answer, drawing back a little more now. “Thomas.” they started, with a strong layer of warning in their tone. “Are you serious?”
“It wasn’t on purpose.” he said, grimacing. “I started working late because I went for a walk and then I just… got carried away.” he gestured at the screen and Pip sighed. They slid a hand into his hair, scratching soothingly across his scalp, and he found his eyes immediately slipping shut.
“I know you don’t do it on purpose.” they murmured, kissing his cheek, “But you’re going to burn yourself out again, hon.” when they drew back he found himself leaning, chasing the warmth as his eyes cracked open again.
“I know, I know.” he rubbed at his eyes again. “I’ll go to… no. I can’t go to bed soon.” he groaned. “I’m going to end up flipping my schedule if I do that. Fuck, okay. I’ll… stay up as late as I can then go to bed, make sure it doesn’t get reset.”
They gave him a long steady look, and then inclined their head, seeing the logic.
“I have to get to work.” they said, gently. “Just… message if you need me, okay? And - the boys. If you need them. You know they won’t mind.”
“I know.” he replied, warmly. “I know.”
He listened to Pip gathering their things before they left the flat, the sharp snap of the door locking behind them, and then… quiet. Just the whirr of the fridge, soft hums of various appliances working, the low hiss of the fans in his computer. He wandered his eyes over the screens. He’d gotten plenty done, at least, figured out several plans for financing, made rough ideas for which theatres to try to reach and some further-out and overseas suggestions to run by the boys and then their agent… his limbs felt tender, his back throbbing from the time he’d spent in his ergonomic but still very much a desk chair kinda seat. He stood up slowly, stretching everything out, grimacing - took a step forward and slapped a hand down on the back of it as his limbs trembled.
“Whoops.” taking a moment to orientate, plans shifted from shower to food. They had a show tomorrow; he needed to be on top form. Heading into the kitchen, nothing at all looked appealing, a low hum of nausea in the base of his stomach. After a moment, he grabbed an apple from the side, and carried it into the bedroom with him. The fatigue had come crashing over him; he managed half of the fruit before knowing he could take no more, slumping down onto his bed, pulling the duvet over his shoulders and conking out.
-
“What the hell was that?” Luke’s words were angry, but his voice was heavy with worry. The second they’d come off the stage and turned to the tiny backstage at the Murray, he’d rounded on Tom. They’d dragged him through the first half, even when he’d been stumbling over his words. Every scene with him had required a chair, because he couldn’t stand for long without the shaking in his legs starting. AJ had come by early to set up the cameras, and it had been Tom who had barely just made it on time - a rarity, as he lived so close to the venue. They had barely had time to say hello before it was their walk down the aisle and his stumble.
“Tom, mate,” Sam said, softer, but still concerned, dark eyes wide. “You look like shit.” his jaw opened just slightly - he sunk down to sit on the chair that was there, but when he turned his head could make himself out in the mirror, just about. Pasty, which was saying something considering how white he usually was, dark shadows under his eyes, a hint of hollowness in his cheeks. AJ rested a palm on his shoulder, warm, solid, and he reached a hand up to rest it overtop. It was grounding. “Have you been getting any sleep at all, recently?”
“Did you actually skip lunch?” Luke added, and then hesitated for a breath before - “Do we need to… is this like uni?” and at that mention his heart sunk somewhere into his naval. He always hated when the others brought that particular time up.
“No. No, it’s not - it’s nothing like that.” he said, quickly. “I’m not - it wasn’t deliberate, I swear to you. Not on purpose, just…”
“You’ve been working yourself into the ground again.” Sam sighed, sitting his hips back against the wall. “I knew I should’ve said something sooner.” he rubbed his own hand over his eyes. “I just… I had this feeling, after that meeting the other day. When’s the last time you had a good night’s sleep? A proper, honest to God night’s sleep, Tom? A real hot meal?” he hesitated, and then added, “Are you letting Pip take care of you at all?”
“They’re busy. They’re working.” he said, immediately, automatically. “They don’t need to be taking care of me. I’m a grown man.”
“Ah, it’s one of those.” Luke groaned. “Alright. Great.”
“Are we going on TomWatch?” AJ asked, soft, and Tom felt his shoulders tense, holding out his hands in a surrender gesture.
“Wait, wait,” he said, quickly. “This doesn’t need - this isn’t self harm.”
“It doesn’t have to be self harm for a TomWatch.” Luke pointed out, arms folded over his chest, gesturing with one hand, “It just needs to be, y’know, something you need to be watched for. Like not eating. Or sleeping.”
“Guys, you can’t bully me into fixing insomnia.” he sighed.
“Okay. We’re skirting the bigger question.” Sam said, shaking his head, “Tom can’t do the second half.”
“I’m fine.” he objected, immediately. “I’m not going home now, the fans will hit the roof.”
“You can barely stand. You haven’t eaten, you haven’t slept. Tom, you’re not well enough to be here.”
“So, what, I walk home?” he suggested, instead, scowling. “Everyone talks about the fact I disappeared? Or I push through it, and I’m okay, and it gets brushed over. I don’t want to worry the fans.” he added. “Sam, you know what’ll happen if I leave now.”
“I.. don’t feel comfortable letting him walk home alone.” Luke added. He was currently staying with Sam, but Tom could feel, from the glances he was getting… “Maybe I should stay there tonight, instead?” and there it was.
“Hm.” AJ mused. “It would be a good solution. Means someone other than Pip is around to bully you into sleeping.”
“Again, you can’t just -”
“And eating.” Sam said, an edge of warning in his tone. “I’m not watching you do that to yourself again.” and Tom clenched his jaw shut, but looked down to the ground.
“Alright.” AJ said, with a soft sigh, “So. We do the long form. I’ll intro. Tom - you stay sat as much as possible. Meet and greet can be nice and short after, it’s not a big crowd here, and they’re mostly regulars, too. There’s that bench in front of the wings if you need it.” he added, and Tom acquiesced to that, dipping his head in a slight nod and taking a moment with his eyes shut. “Are we ready?”
They murmured agreement and stood, ready as they ever would be. Sam squeezed his shoulder. He didn’t look around.
This wasn't bigger than this.
It couldn't be bigger than this.
He was fine.
Fine.