˗ˏˋ ★ˎˊ˗

Tom felt a sharp, searing headache crawl across his skull, a heavy pressure building as he slumped weakly against the wall. His vision blurred, the edges of everything swirling into a dull, purple haze. He hadn’t asked for this, not today, not when he’d volunteered to stay behind while Edd and Matt went out for groceries. Now, no one would be here to help.

He winced, trying to fight off the dizziness. Wait… You. He almost forgot about you! With what little energy he had left, Tom reached out weakly, calling your name, his voice barely a rasp. His hands, trembling and slick with sweat, scrabbled at the wall as he tried to push himself up, but it was no use. His body refused to cooperate.

As he stumbled down the hallway, his steps unsteady and disjointed, something felt… off. Almost like a drunken sway, but it wasn’t alcohol. No, it was something else, something worse. He glanced down at his hands—furred claws.

Tom froze, eyes wide with shock. He was changing. Again.

But why? He couldn’t remember any stress, no trigger, no event that could have set it off. Panic curled deep in his chest, but it was drowned out by the rising roar of pain in his head.

His tail flicked behind him, sending a shiver of discomfort through his spine. His claws slipped against the doorknob as he tried to open your door, but his hands—no, his claws—were uncooperative. He could barely grip the knob, and the effort made him growl in frustration, a low, guttural sound that vibrated deep in his chest.

There was no sign of you. The room was empty. He cursed under his breath, frustration bubbling over. That’s when he noticed the change in his eyes—pitch black, but now glowing, an eerie shift from purple to pink, like a strange neon flame dancing across his irises.

"Shit," he muttered. His tail lashed behind him in irritation, as his head throbbed again, the pain almost blinding now. He groaned, fingers trembling as he finally managed to nudge the door open.