This is just to ⭐experiment⭐ the pure magic of writing Wattpad stories on . . . Wattpad. Of course, since this is my FIRST EVER story, it's going to be bad and cringe! I doubt this is going to get popular though.
There will be cussing later on i...
I'm giving you a shoutout since you were the first reader to read this story! <3
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"BOYS! FOOD IS DONE!" Phil called from down stairs, making Tommy flinch. He smelled the sweet aroma of . . . potatoes? 'Great, I'mgoingtogetfatter,' Tommy thought to himself. He exited his bedroom and walked down the stairs.
When he entered the dining room, Techno was slumped in a chair reading some book. "The Art of War" was the book. Who reads that right before having dinner?! Oh wait, apparently the almighty Technoblade. (⚠️NERD⚠️)
Wilbur came into the dining room right after Tommy entered. "Hey Tech', do you know what we're going to have for dinner?" Wilbur asked. Techno put a bookmark inside his precious "The Art of War" book and laid it on the dining table.
"Potatoes," he deadpanned.
"What? -"
"Potatoes."
Wilbur sighed and sauntered over to a chair. He sat down and started to twiddle with his fingers. Tommy however, stood like a statue in the doorway. "Toms, sit down," Wilbur waved Tommy over to the table.
The only chair that was available at the table was placed next to Techno. Oh great . . . he's going to sit next to the same guy who threatened Tommy that he was going to "dropkick him" and Tommy literally bit his hand.
Tommy noticed a red mark on the pinkette's hand. 'MustbethebitemarkIpresume,' Tommy thought, as he walked towards the chair.
"I still remember the time you bit me," Techno suddenly said, scaring Tommy.
"I'll bite your other hand off," Tommy threatened. The pinkette just chuckled.
"Alright gremlin, I'll take your word," Techno said, hinting a bit of sarcasm. Tommy just flipped him off in response and took a seat.
"Dinner is served!" Phil announced, entering the room with a tray of four bowls containing potatoes.
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(Anyway-)
Phil placed the bowls on the table. Tommy observed his bowl of potatoes . . . 'Somanycaloriesinthisthing . . .' Tommy thought to himself in disgust.
"Tommy, is everything alright?" Phil asked the boy gently, noticing Tommy looking at the bowl in disgust.
"Hm? Oh, no . . . everything is fine," Tommy said, trying to shrug off the concerned glances Wilbur and Phil gave him.
"Well, if you want, you are free to eat your dinner in your room," Phil said.
"Oh . . . th - thank you!" Tommy stuttered, picking up the bowl of potatoes.
"No, no need to thank me," Phil reassured.
Tommy exited the dining room and went up to his bedroom.
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Theboyssittin' atthetable:
Tommy left the dining room, leaving the family at the table in silence.
"This is worst than we've thought," Wilbur broke the silence.
"Keen observation," Techno said, rolling his eyes at his brother.
"Techno! THIS IS SERIOUS!" Wilbur snapped, slamming his fists on the table, making the bowls rattle. This made Techno wince at the sudden snap Wilbur did . . . on him.
'Kill.'
'Hate.'
'Blood.'
'Cry.'
'Death.'
'Shutup,' Techno hissed to himself, making fists with his hands. The voices rang through his head, not stopping.
"Wilbur, why did you snap at -"
"No! He literally joked at a serious situation! Dad please! Tommy needs -"
"That doesn't mean you should take your anger on your own brother," Phil firmly said.
"I wish it was you instead of mom," Wilbur hissed, regretting his words after he said them.
Silence filled the room.
"I'm . . . I'm going to my room," Techno finally said, getting out of his chair and leaving the room. Which leaves with Wilbur and Phil.
"Tommy needs help. We can't just ignore it and joke about it," Wilbur pressed on, glaring at his father.
"We're a family Wil', we can't -"
"CAN'T WHAT?! CAN'T SAY YOUR OWN WIFE'S NAME WITHOUT BREAKING DOWN?! CAN'T AT LEAST PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR OWN SON! ME . . . YOUR OWN SON . . ." Wilbur broke off at the end, hurt by his own words. Until he realized, he was in the right . . . Phil didn't pay attention to him. Just shoved him to the side. Rage filled him.
"Wilbur, calm do -"
"SAY HER NAME!" Wilbur snapped. "GO ON! SAY HER GOD DAMN NAME PHILZA SOOT! YOU'RE JUST A SAD OLD MAN WHO ONLY CARES ABOUT HIS FAVORITE SON TECHNOBLADE AND NOT WILBUR SOOT! HIS OWN SON!"
That was the last straw.
"I CARE ABOUT MY WHOLE FAMILY WILBUR! I GUESS YOU DON'T APPRECIATE WHAT I HAVE SACRIFICED FOR THIS FAMILY TO SAY TOGETHER! I'VE BEEN GETTING NIGHTMARES EVERY NIGHT, REPLAYING OVER AND OVER OF HER . . ." Phil curled up into a ball sobbing.
Wilbur hasn't seen Phil cry for so long . . . the last time he saw him cry was at the graveyard.
"Dad, I'm . . ."
"NO! LEAVE ME ALONE! GO FIGHT WITH MY 'FAVORITE' SON LIKE YOU'VE ALWAYS DONE ALL THESE YEARS!"
The words stung Wilbur like hell. Was he really a that big of a pain in his father's side?
Wilbur did as what his father told him to, he left the dining room and walked up the stairs.
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Back to Lil' Timmy :
Tommy lowered himself into the toliet and stuck two fingers into his throat.
