Tainted Perception | Wilbur Soot Angst (ORIGINAL)

Failure

TW: Derealization, blood, injury, panic attack (don't have a better description)

A/N: I'MMMM BACK AND IN IT FOR THE ANGST!!! Did you miss me (you don't have to answer that)? Also, thank you guys so so so so much for all the support I got when I had zero service 'cause I was in the mountains, it means so much! 

 "Hey, Will," Philza greeted quietly, his focus still on the meal he was preparing, not seeing the still stricken face of the man he was addressing. Wilbur paused outside the doorway, trying to steady himself.

"Hi," he responded hesitantly. Silence enveloped them.

"Are- are you hungry?"

"Um, yeah." He wasn't, at least not really, it just seemed like the right thing to say. Sitting down carefully at the counter, he glanced at the food set in front of him. It was a sandwich, nothing special. Probably peanut butter and jelly, from what he could tell. He sighed, it's not like he could really taste it anyway. Picking it up gingerly, he tried his best to ignore the concerned look that Phil was sending his way.

The moment seemed to stretch on forever, the meal never seeming to end. The last bite seeming too huge to fit in his mouth. He didn't want to waste it, though, he had lived on little food before, he didn't want to take it for granted. Holding back a groan, he stuffed the last of it into his mouth, swallowing it down with water.

"You good, mate?" Wilbur nodded tiredly in response, making up a vague excuse before heading upstairs. Sitting down on the bed, he held his head in his hands, trying in vain to sort through all of his thoughts. Glancing over at the guitar again, he considered playing something, he really did, but he just couldn't bring himself to touch it. It just seemed too perfect, too good to be true, too flawless to be his. Wilbur ruined everything he touched, whether it was intentional or not.

"You are too!" Tommy's words echoed through his head. The naive boy had been so eager to agree, yet so sure of his words. There had been no doubt in his voice about the trueness of the statement. Tommy had genuinely believed that Wilbur would be a great man one day. And oh, how Wilbur wished that he could live up to his brother's expectations. But he didn't. He was a failure.

He was a pathetic man and an even more pathetic leader. But worst of all? He was a terrible sibling. He had been so invested in his own success that he had let down everyone he had ever cared about. They had no reason to forgive him. Techno had trusted him to have his back, and where had that got him? He had to execute someone they considered a brother in front of everyone. Tommy could blame the pig hybrid as much as he wanted but in the end it was Wilbur's fault, it was always his fault. It was his own actions that had led to those events.

Stifling a sob, the man reached for the precious instrument. Holding it delicately in his hands.

-

I heard there was a special place.

"Whenever I'm here, I'm reminded of the song that I've scribbled on the walls."

Where men could go emancipate

"Ya, know, that there was a special place, there was, was, a special place, where men could go and emancipate, ya, know?"

The brutality, and the tyranny, or their rulers

"And there was definitely that special place that existed once, it did, it did."

This place is real, you needn't fret

"But even with- even with Tubbo in charge, I don't think it can exist again."

With Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, Eret

"I don't think it can exist again."

It's a very real, and not blown up L'Manburg

"So."

My L'Manburg

"The button's right there."

My L'Manburg

"If I'm gonna press it ever, it's now!"

My L'Manburg

"THE THING THAT I BUILT THIS NATION FOR DOESN'T EXIST ANYMORE! The- the thing I worked towards, doesn't exist anymore!"

My L'Manburg

"It's over."

-

Wilbur smashed the guitar against the floor. The precious instrument caving in on itself, the strings snapping and metal twisting. The silence afterwards was deafening. He stared, mouth agape, at the destruction he had caused. Dropping to his knees, he frantically started gathering the splintered pieces, not caring about the blood that now coated his hands, the wood that was embedded in his fingers.

Why had he done that? Why had he destroyed the thing he had loved for a second time? Holding a bloody hand to his mouth to stifle his sobs, he sat back, not processing anything anymore. He didn't notice Phil running into the room, the surprise on the man's face as he took in the scene, the arms that wrapped around him as he cried. He didn't feel himself slowly get led downstairs to the couch, he didn't feel Phil gently pulling out all of the wood embedded in his fingers, the gauze as it was wrapped around his limbs.

He didn't hear the whispered assurances as they were said to him. All he heard was the taunting symphony he had left unfinished. 

TADAAA!!! See you tommorrowww probbb!!! Depends on how terrible I feel from this cold/allergies (not COVID, I'm fully vaccinated).