Brittle Bones Tommy

Tommy "Theseus" Innit Craft was 26 years old today. Happy birthday to him. It was the fourth of July (if his calendar was still serving him correctly) and a rather chilled, bitter day for the expected peak of the Summer season if he was perfectly honest. Tommy had woken up as he did every other morning - long legs swinging down from a messy bed, hands reaching upwards to brush against his bouncy curls and a yawn peeling from his lips. The bags under his eyes hadn't gotten any better, nor had the paleness to his skin. But that was alright. It always was alright, these days. (He didn't mind the mundane life, the tedious tasks and the continuous realisation that he was alone and always would be forevermore.) - Tommy has been alone for the past 7 years. All of his friends had shut down, reduced to an unconscious, unresponsive state, except him. He copes, until he doesn't. He sleeps, until he doesn't. He's alone, until-