DSMP/OSMP/MCYT One Shots

Habits |wilbur|

A/N: this is basically a fic of my life lmaoo anyways c!wilbur not cc!wilbur. This is not a representation of the cc.

TW: vent fic, mentioned eating disorder, bad eating habits, sadness

Wilbur didn't know when it started.

The thoughts had been fleeting, just glimpses of what could be. Not that Wilbur would ever follow through, he wasn't stupid.

He knew eating disorders were bad and a lot of people suffered with them. Wilbur had fine mental health and never struggled with eating before. He was average weight and slightly above average height for his age.

There was something that bugged Wilbur when he went to stay at his aunts house. Techno, Tommy, and himself were there for a month while Phil had to do something for a job.

It was honestly a good change of scenery. Linda was kind although strict. Anyone could deal with that though. Wilbur got his own room in her house and all the space he needed.

His mental health had been getting so much better in the recent months and Wilbur was speaking to his friends more often. He had late night calls with his friends who lived in the USA, and even stayed up playing Minecraft with Techno and Tommy (all from their separate rooms of course).

Playing made people hungry. Of course he had a midnight snack sometimes. It was normal and everyone did it (some much more often than Wilbur). The brunet was forgetful, he would forget to throw out the wrappers every time.

Linda didn't take this kindly.

Wilbur knew she had a right to be upset, it was her house after all. But to snoop through every inch of his room while he had gone out for the day? For her to start screaming and telling him he was an awful person? Even Wilbur knew that was excessive.

"Wilbur I think you have an eating disorder! This isn't normal, you're not normal." Linda had said that day.

Wilbur knew she was wrong about that. His relationship with food was fine, he never ate too much "junk" food. He ate veggies and protein and enough for his age and height.

Linda was wrong about that.

Some of her words made sense. Snacking at 1am probably wasn't healthy anyways. So Wilbur stopped. That was fine, Wilbur just stayed awake on his phone instead of calls and a snack.

Life kept moving.

Soon after that, Wilbur realized how much he ate. It was probably a normal amount, especially because he worked out daily, yet it seemed like a lot.

I could cut down a bit

He could. Eating slightly smaller portions or not taking seconds. Wilbur was still physically healthy. Nothing had affected him in a negative way. Wilbur wasn't eating too much like Linda had said months ago. He was eating just enough for his body and brains

After that everything seemed to progress. The way his eyes picked up on the difference between himself and others. Insignificant things that no one else would notice. Then the urge to weigh himself came (he refused too, after all he didn't want to start a bad habit).

What was worse was when the urge to skip meals came. The desire too, the little voice whispering that he didn't need it. Wilbur ignored that voice until it became too much. He finally gave in. Skipping breakfast was easy, if he woke up a bit later everyday he wouldn't have time for it. Breakfast was small anyways, it didn't make a huge difference.

He kept with that for two months. Testing the waters and seeing what he could get away with. Skipping lunch by "forgetting" to pack it or blaming it on a late breakfast.

Wilbur never skipped supper though. He didn't want to raise suspicion. It wasn't like what he was doing was bad at all, it was normal. Tons of people lived without meals everyday, Wilbur's body could handle this.

Wilbur didn't think any of that was the worst part though. The worst part was a year into this strange habit. The guilt after eating anything. May it be a sandwich, a fry, or a carrot. Anything Wilbur felt so guilty for eating. The thoughts of if he really needed to it swirled around constantly.

It was so bad, he dealt with constant headaches all the time now. His entire head spinning and feeling faint when he stood up. Every time he brushed his hair he swore half of his hair stayed with the brush. Minor inconveniences, Wilbur told himself.

Could they be counted as inconveniences if there wasn't a problem?

Because there was no problem. Sure Wilbur's new habits may not fit into the norm, but surely it wasn't as bad as any disorder. Wilbur was lucky in so many ways with his life, other people had it so much worse.

That's what Wilbur reminded himself every time he cried. Didn't matter if the tears were from stress or exhaustion, they were all a waste.

Once Wilbur read on google that writing things down helps. So he bought himself a journal and wrote his feelings. For two days he did. Then he wrote what he had eaten. His entrees revolves around food and portions and soon that was all it was. A simple time stamp, the food, and then portion or calories. Each day that passed the lost got shorter and shorter, but it still felt too long for him.

Wilbur hoped in the back of his mind that someone would notice something was different (not wrong, there wasn't a problem so morning could be wrong). Maybe someone could come and give him a hug, tell him he's okay and eating won't kill him.

It was all a childish dream. This was the real world, people only had time for themselves. There was no room for positivity.

Wilbur knew no one would save him from this rabbit hole he had gotten himself stuck in. There was no going back now, only deeper. Wilbur couldn't be sure which way was up, neither way had any light and it seemed they were both down. One path was the one he was on now with horrible eating habits, and the other was a lonely failing road to trying to be normal again all by himself.

In both he was alone. In both he would fail in the end.

Maybe Wilbur did know where the problem started.