Angstyboys.inc | sbi angst one shots |

-Red looks pretty on me-

Art creds to: __j00l (os are zeros) on Instagram

Requested: No
Character: Wilbur
Setting: his bathroom 👍 (sounds strange but yeah)

‼️TWS‼️:
• SH
• Blood
• fainting

A/n: this was going to be longer but now I'm making a part two, I don't have enough energy to finish this right now and I still wanted to post something considering I haven't finished the Ranboo chapter yet either so you'll just have to bear with me. Also this follows a common plot line in a lot of angst stories I see but it's better cause I wrote it 😌/j (but I do still hope you'll like it even though it's short)

___________•***•___________
|*~Wilbur POV (3rd person)~*|

He looked down and smiled at what he'd done, to others they would be horrified at the copious amounts of blood on the floor and on the sink but to him... it was beautiful.

Scars of reds and browns would soon show and mark him as unstable. But that's what he liked about it, as well as the satisfaction it brought him to see his work. Every scar would display his mistakes and every scar was a way to... control, his behavior.

For every bad thing he'd done that day, a new slit would be created on his fragile undeserving skin. It had gotten to the point he'd punish himself for the smallest of things like not hearing someone the first time or saying something wrong in a conversation.

But this was for the better of everyone right? If he could just stop being such a bad person everyone would like him more. Right?

In all honesty, it wasn't his fault they didn't like him, but he would think otherwise. And his way of "fixing himself" definitely wasn't a solution.

But as life continued so would he, more and more cuts would show up every day and more and more blood would be lost. It was hard to think it had gotten this bad, he was now hurting himself for basically just breathing.

Cuts littered his arms like stars did the sky, he was losing track of how many there were.

He carved a final line into his arm and let out a hiss of pain, he'd cut too deep and hit a vein, he quickly grabbed the hand towel on the hanger and pressed it onto his wrist.

He didn't want to die, not yet, there was still so much he wanted to do, so many people he had to make happy- he didn't want to die just to be fixed... tears could be seen running down his face and broken sobs could be heard echoing across the empty walls.

He looked at himself in the reflection of the mirror and saw what a mess he'd become before collapsing to the cold bathroom floor, he was too weak to get up, after all he had lost a lot of blood.

The lights in the room dimming down to almost nothing, he closed his eyes, feeling his body go limp.

Then nothing.

___________•***•___________
500 words

First off I'd like to say he's not dead, and second, you'll get the part two to this tomorrow if nothing changes. I'm sorry I had to split it into two parts in the first place but it's easier on me this way.

Also- I will be writing your requests after this I just put them on hold because I already had a few chapters planned out beforehand. But you will get part twos to the stories you asked for and I will also start taking new requests as well.

That's basically it

You all are loved and amazing
I hope your having a good day/night/whatever time of the day it is for you
Here's an optional h/h/h (hug headpat handshake)
And some blue :) : 💤🌀💤🌀💤🌀