Unpredictable | Wilbur Soot Angst

Mistakes Were Made

TW: Depictions of abuse, alcohol, panic attack, swearing

A/N: 97 VIEWS HOLY CRAP!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! (very heavy angst this chapter, also not completely proof read and it's late)

 It had been a couple hours since Wilbur had abruptly left the table, and Phil couldn't bring himself to go to sleep. His mind just kept repeating those jumbled words, unable to make heads or tails out of it. That single sentence could have been a huge breakthrough, Will finally opening up, and he had ruined it. Rolling over in his bed he continued to contemplate, still drawing a blank.

He needed a distraction, his gaze wandered to his computer. Why not? Picking himself up, Phil walked over to his desk and booted up his PC. His mouse was hovering over the Minecraft icon, when it clicked, that's what Will had said. "Can we play a little Minecraft?" Philza groaned, I am such an idiiooott. He knew it was too late, Will had lost his nerve. I'm gonna make it up to you Wilbur, I promise. His mind immediately went to some things he could do. What do you like? He quickly opened his search engine and looked up "Wilbur Soot"

The first thing that popped up was Will's YouTube channel, in the description below the link (idk what to call it), the opening words were: "i make music". Of course! Phil didn't know what happened to Wilbur's prized guitar, nothing good obviously, but he knew that Wilbur probably still loved music. So he went to amazon.com, and searched for the instrument.

-

It was about 7AM, and Wilbur had gotten almost no sleep. Groaning, he pulled himself out of bed, the events of the day before hitting him like a dump truck. He had asked to play Minecraft, and gotten rejected. Logistically he knew that wasn't necessarily what happened, his mind didn't care though. After that he had cried to fake Phil, Techno, Tommy, and Tubbo. They helped, they talked some sense into him. Kinda...

Sometimes his fake found family reminded him of the angel and the devil on his shoulders. Techno and Tommy often being more aggressive and protective, while Tubbo and Phil were more laid back and logistical. Both had their uses, though often logic was the way to go.

Unfortunately, the "devil" was more persuasive, and Will was mad. Yes he was mad at Phil (the real one), but he was mostly mad at himself. He shouldn't have asked in the first place. It wasn't his place.

After mulling it over for a bit, he somehow found his resolve, and crept downstairs. Phil was already there. He was on his phone and drinking out of a bottle, specifically, a beer bottle.

-

Wilbur tensed as he heard his "father" call his name. Cautiously, he inched downstairs, he was met by his very drunk "dad", a glass in hand.

"Y-yes?"

"Here boy, I want you to try something, it'll toughen you up." He slurred, a smirk on his face. Will knew better than to question it, and carefully took the bottle. Hesitantly, he brought it to his lips, and took a sip. "Do you like it?" Wilbur offered a pitiful smile, he didn't, not that he would say that. "Drink the rest then!"

"I- I don't- I don't want to." he stuttered.

"DRINK!" The male yelled, and Will quickly lifted the container to his face. All too soon, the boy started to run out of air, he tried to remove the bottle from his lips, but a rough hand had wrapped around his own, making him panic more.

After what felt like hours, it was finally empty, Will gasped for breath, which was quickly knocked out of him by a punch to the stomach.

"Useless! Piece! Of! Shit!" After every word a bruise was added to the collection, at some point glass had been broken, and was now adding a stinging pain to his aching body.

"Please!" He begged, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Wilbur chanted through his tears. Though he didn't know what he was apologizing for, it didn't matter. It was his fault either way.

-

Phil was sitting in the living room, scrolling through Twitter, when he heard Wilbur walk in. He turned and was about to greet him, when he noticed something was wrong. Will's eyes were glazed over, his breathing uneven and ragged. His eyes focused on one thing, the bottle in Philza's hand.

"Shit. I'm sorry Will." he stammered, quickly tossing his bottle into the trash. If the frightened boy could hear or see him, he didn't react. Phil rushed over, and Wilbur flinched back violently.

"Please! I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." he choked out. Phil didn't know what to do, Will was trapped in a memory and he had no way to help him. He felt useless.

Hi, I know it's late, my mom won't stop telling me. I need to go to bed. Bye :)