Sleepy Bois Inc. Ghost AU

𝟤𝟦.𝟢𝟧.𝟣𝟨

TW: MENTIONS OF SUICIDE AND POSSIBLE TOXIC RELATIONSHIP.

It was a luke warm Tuesday morning. Pigeons and other british birds perched on different buildings, watching over the London citizens as they started the daily routine of doing whatever they needed to do that day. One man in particular was running a bit late, slinging on his clothes and grabbing together his belongings in an attempt to get their on time. He grabbed his guitar case and slung it over one shoulder, grabbed his keys and phone and dashed out the door, taking a sharp right and walking down the street. Despite his many attempts to wake up early and not be late, he always was, it was like his body couldn't wake up before noon; how did he survive high school before this? The young man swerved through crowds of other adults, trying not to step on the feet of children passing by on their way to school.

He always thought that London was such a nice place, but being her was like a virus. An intoxicating virus that infiltrated your lungs with pollution and all things negative; and he doubts he's the only one who feels like this to. His hazel eyes glazed over a newspaper stand, his eyes fixating on a newspaper from some basic company, the black bold letters stood out amongst the bleak wooden stand. 'ANOTHER BODY FOUND AT JUBILEE LINE STATION'. 3rd one this month it seems. This wasn't a rare occurence, it seemed people were becoming more and more aware to how boring and cut-throat a place like London was. The brunette shared this mindset, he just needed to wait a few more months and then he could get out of here.

Everything was planned out, he would move to Brighton, a small quaint beach town. He had heard about the place from an online friend who visited there once, it seemed like heaven compared to the toxic atmosphere of London. However, for now that was a mere fantasy. His current occupation wasn't that well paying, it was more of a hobby than a job, but it was his entire life depended on. Just a few more months, or maybe he just needed a big hit, a few good gigs. Who knows, all that matters right know is not being late. Speaking of not being late, he had been idly staring at some newspaper for a while now. Oh fuck.

"Will! You're late again!" A blondette turned around and scolded the young adult with a friendly dissapointment. Will apologised as he put away his belongings. There were four other people in the room. A girl with short blonde hair and bright blue eyes, she was perfect and Will was glad to call her his girlfriend. Sarah was perfect; she was a backup singer for their band. Next was another girl, long blonde, she was bossy but everyone loved her for it. Her name was Allison and she was a pianist and she was damn good at it. Then there was Sal, or Sally, she had emerald eyes and dyed short cyan and brown hair. She played bass guitar and was also dating Allison, the resident gays.

There was also David, he was what you would call a secret member. He never appeared for live gigs, he did the drums and technical shit; he was a bigger fan of the business side than all the fame and live performances. And then there was, Wil, or Wilbur. He was the main singer and guitarist, he also wrote most of the songs. Brunette, hazel eyes and normally seen in a yellow sweater and beanie. They all had one thing in common, they all played in a band together. They had officially been together for about 6 months now, they wrote 2 songs and performed at multiple different venues around central England. They were happy; despite their somewhat terrible surroundings, they were happy. Together. Wilbur had a great friend group, a l̵̢̻͔̀̈́̿̓̊̅ŏ̸̧̙̙̤͑̄͠v̴͚͖̬͎̤̜̀̀̆͌̎i̷̬͒̇͌͋n̸̩̤͉͔͊͋̑͑̓̑ͅġ̸̹̠͔̮̅ girlfriend, and a somewhat nice upbringing. All he needed right now was a nice change of pace, Brighton was the place he needed to be.

Moving to Brighton wasn't a selfish choice, it wasn't only for his mental health. His physical health, specifically his lungs and breathing, were getting worse everyday. He was barely able to sing for their daily band meetings, it was torture. He had gone to the doctors about it but all he was given was those stupid sickly cough sweets. Will worried, a lot, and this new illness from all the pollution is not helping. London was slowly turning into a living nightmare. But he couldn't worry about that right now, he had a band to lead, and he was already late.

"We are two ships who sail in the night, you and I we are nothing alike." Wilbur mumbled to himself, cold fingers softly strumming over the guitar strings. The five of them decided to practise on their own, the sounds of random musical instruments vibrating through the small room. Wilbur's train of focus was cut off by a pair of arms being drapped on his shoulders, "Will, what are you doing after practise?" Sarah asked in a high-pitched voice as one of her hands moved to tangle her delicate fingers in his chocolate brown locks. "I have work this week, I've told you this." Wilbur said, trying to shrug his lover of him so he can focus back on his strumming.

"Oh come on, we haven't gone on a date in like, forever. Come on, just one night." Sarah picked up the guitar and placed it to the side, moving to sit on the young adult's lap. "I took you out to the beach last week, I'm a busy person, Sarah." He smiled weakly, picking up the young female and standing up, taking his guitar to a different corner. Sarah pouted and crossed her arms like a small child. She stood up and walked back away to her own little area, leaving a somewhat awkward atmosphere between the two lovers.

—––

The day soon drew to the evening and everyone started to leave and head home. Wilbur and Sarah were last to leave, the two of them taking longer to pack up their equipment. Wilbur's throat scorched from all the strained singing, he'll have to go visit the doctors after this session; thank god it's over. Wilbur went to go leave the small rented room but was stopped by a firm arm around his waist. "Wilby, are you sure you're busy? I found this nice café just out of town. You never take me out anywhere anymore." Sarah whined as she attempted to block up the doorway. "Come on, Sarah. I'm busy tonight, we can't spend every waking moment together." Wilbur smiled softly and planted a kiss on her forehead, picking up the rest of his guitar pieces and slinging it over his right shoulder. "That's what couples do! I've had loads of relationships and they spent every day with me." Sarah said, moving to wrap her arms around his sweater.

"Well if you think you'd treat them better then why don't you go hang out with them? Why don't you call up Jade and see if she's busy?" Wilbur asked, immediately regretting it as Sarah frowned and pouted. "Are you implying that we break up?" Her voice seemed to get higher as she pulled away from him, it felt so cold now. "No, no, no, that's not what I meant. I love you, Sarah, but I have a life to live. We're still young, I'm trying to get my life together." Wilbur put his guitar down and tried to reason with his lover, but she just turned her back to him. "I've been thinking about this for a while, but maybe it's time we have a break. You just never seem to have any time for me. Maybe we should see other people." Before Wilbur could try to talk to her she grabbed her coat and ran out the door, a sour look on her face.

Will just stood there, silent and now alone, the gravity of the situation still setting in. He fucked up. He just lost the love of his life. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Fucking hell Wilbur your a fucking idiot. The world gives you one shred of happiness and you fuck it all up. Wet tears fell down the young man's face, his knuckles turning white from clutching his guitar case. It's getting late, he should head home. But his mind just can't bring himself to go home yet, he needed to be outside, he needed to be free.

His legs were numb, his mind was empty, he wasn't really sure where he was going. He eventually found himself at the bank of a lake. He settled himself down by a pile of rocks, setting down his guitar case next to him, his eyes locking onto the dark aqua sea next to him. It was strangely comforting. If his asthma wasn't plauging him every day then he would've loved to do some singing right now. Instead of straining his vocal chords he took out a notebook from his backpack and unpacked the guitar. Sometimes the best time to write some songs is at your lowest point; and this was definitely a low point for him..