Angstyboys.inc | sbi angst one shots |

-Althea-

Art creds to: peppermint_cuddle on instagram, their art is so pretty looking, I love the color scheme :0

Requested: no
Character: Wilbur
Setting: Graveyard/Wilburs house

TWs for this chapter:
• All caps yelling/yelling
• Swearing (just in case)
• Cuts/blood/minor injury

A/N: Heyyy, I really like this chapter and I hope you do too, it's also a longer one. Happy holidays (:

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

1 strum

2 strums

3 strums

4 strums

His fingers fell into place as he strummed the chord again and again. Focusing on the complicated melodies and hand positions to play music has become quite the distraction for Wilbur. A good distraction. Being able to play his feelings rather than feel them has been nice.

He felt bad for his guitar however. He'd gotten her when he was 15 and now it's been two years. He asked for her too, but he never played. He didn't know why, however he didn't regret starting up again. One boring day, he was going through old stuff to pass the time when he discovered his discarded lady, Althea. And yes, he named his guitar, just like a ship. She's been helping him a lot recently so why not give her a proper identity?

(If anyone in the comments plays guitar/ukulele, please tell me you guys give yours names too? I don't feel like that's a weird thing but I don't know anyone else who does, besides Wilbur. My ukuleles name is Evelyn :]. Anyways, back to the story!)

Anyways, that's not the point.

He was walking to the cemetery. something about it he found calming. Maybe the presence of the ones who "passed on" but were really still there, something edgy like that. Besides the fact the graveyard was nice, he'd seen the people in movies go there to play guitar so why not?

"Everyone I love is gonna die, and I, will die as well.." (Momento Mori- Crywank)

Ah, perfect song for a place where the deceased reside.

His finger slipped down a string and was swiftly cut. A small line of blood appeared on his finger as he winced in pain. He scrunched his face and cursed

"Fuck!"

He's gonna need a bandaid for that I presume, oh well. He's now walking back home, crossing his feet as he stepped, tunnel vision on the cemented tiles, making sure not to step on the cracks. Phil's back was already broken enough from old age. Jokes jokes, but he wondered how Phil was. They hadn't spoken much recently and he missed talking to his dad. I mean, it was mostly his fault, closing himself off. Skipping school. keeping secrets. The whole shebang.

He kicked around a stone mindlessly as he walked.

And yes, he was skipping school. I bet you could guess what for. To play his stupid guitar. His grades and attendance were fucked, the semester was almost over so there's not much he could do now other than hope Phil wouldn't be too mad. The silence was nice for now I guess.

He grabbed his house key and opened the door. Phil was in the living room and greeted him, he waved back and went upstairs. He knew Phil had frowned when he left but like most things, oh well. He grabbed a bandaid, tearing off the wrapper with his teeth not bothering with the trash.

Oh. fucking. well.

Hm, angsty and maybe just a tad but aggressive.

He did what he always did and he continued playing his guitar.