Tw: Anxiety, breakdown, talk of meds, talk of lack of sleep, eating disorder, past suicide, screaming and yelling, flushing pills and talk of past abuse within foster care, religious talk
Note: Within this there's talk of religion and god(s) In no way am I making fun or hating on religion. I believe that you can believe whatever you would like and I truly am not trying to hurt anyone's view on this.
Wilbur sat in his bed shivering, surprisingly cold for the warm August night. He was trying his best not to let the cold get to him as he pulled the scratchy blanket around him tighter. He had softer blankets, but part of him didn't think he deserved that. Instead he inhaled and tried to think why he was shaking in the first place.
Maybe it was just his anxiety, lack of food in his body, or maybe it was his body trying to tell him he needed sleep, but he wasn't exactly sure which it was. And he wasn't exactly trying to find out. It was just something to think about.
Wilbur glanced down at his phone for what felt like the millionth time, waiting for something he knew it wasn't time for yet. He knew he wouldn't be getting that call till exactly midnight, and it's only 10:34pm. Knowing this didn't change his stare. The small and slim electronic device held all of his attention, even when it was off and blank.
He could be doing something else and he knew that. He hadn't eaten all day, he needed a shower, there was even a birthday cake in his fridge begging him to have a slice, but he was just focused on this phone that sat in front of him.
He reached his hands out of his blanket cocoon to make sure the phone still worked, he turned it on for a moment and when the device glowed he turned it back off. Then he wanted to make sure it was actually charging, so he turned it back on to see the completely full small green box in the corner. It didn't even need to be charged right now, but he wanted it to be. He smiled softly and turned the phone back off.
This would have been a fine thing to do if he hadn't already done these things 6 times in the past 20 minutes. He knew he could blame that on his anxiety, it was always a good excuse for why he was acting like he was. But there's not much he could do about that, well maybe taking his meds when he's supposed to.
Wilbur glanced up at his dresser across the room where the pill bottles sat, the lids sat never having been opened. Wilbur felt guilty as he looked at the tiny blue pills in the orange bottle, the labelling has his name and a word he can't pronounce. The dates on the bottles showed he should have opened these by now, half of them saying he should have gotten his refill already. All of them sat untouched, all 31 days worth inside the bottles were still there.
He shook his head and retreated his hand back into the blanket, even if it scratched at his hand more and he wanted to throw it off. He closed the hole that was created when he reached out and he continued to sit there. There was nothing else to distract him as he waited for this call, well there was but nothing that could hold his attention for too long. This was too important.
As Wilbur continued to sit there, no noise, no true feeling other than anxiety and his heart beating in his head he thought about things. His brain seemed to be a never ending loop of things.
He thought about how Phil had tried to call him earlier, but he ignored it. He thought about how Niki was the one to drop off the cake, knocking at his door but when he didn't answer she left it on his step. He thought about how Sally sent a card through the mail, and it arrived precisely today. He thought about how they all probably planned that, it feels like something they would do.
He thought about the time ticking down to his phone call, the one phone call that will mean more than anything in his life. God he was so fucking stupid for using his phone call like this, but he knew that this would change things.
