sleepy bois inc oneshots

shitty apology

Requested by Exis_Fine

Phil and Wilbur have a bad argument that leads to Wilbur going to his room and Phil tries to apologize, but it's done poorly

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"Where have you been?" That was the first thing Wilbur heard when he entered his home. His head had snapped up from where it was looking down, his phone now turned off.

"Uh, I was at Schlatt's. Like I always am," he responded, pocketing his mobile device. Phil sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was still wearing his day clothes, so Wilbur assumed he had a longer day at work.

As Wilbur was about to go up to his room, Phil scoffed and shook his head. "Wait a second, Wilbur." He turned, locking eyes with his father, and obliged. "We have to talk about how much you're going over to his house.

"He is a bad influence." Wilbur felt a pang of frustration jab at his chest. He inhaled as slowly as possible. "I'm sorry, what did you just say?" Phil's wings fluttered shortly.

They stared each other down, the air growing tense. "You heard me," Phil uttered, eyebrows furrowed. Wilbur's pupils dilated and he narrowed his eyes.

"He isn't a bad influence, Phil. He's just a good friend." He retorted. Phil scoffed and walked closer to Wilbur, wings halfway open. "Wilbur, you can't be serious. He drinks alcohol and smokes. You're both underage don't you see that?!"

They were practically at each other's throats, glaring daggers into the other. Wilbur was pissed. "Sure, we cope in unhealthy ways, but at least he helps me when I need it!" Phil huffed, blonde hair splayed out on his back.

"Wilbur, you're overlooking this," he said, crossing his arms. Wilbur's hands tightened around his sweater sleeves. "No, I'm not! You've never offered me the comfort you do to Tommy or Techno.

"You always go on about how you're too busy, or you have to go somewhere with the other two! But, when Techno or Tommy are crying or asking for help, you give it to them in wrapped gift boxes with a goddamn bow on the top!"

Wilbur exhaled, dragging a hand down his face. Phil turned around and his shoulders heaved, apparently trying to calm down. When he was facing Wilbur again, his eyes were cold. "Wilbur, you're just fishing for attention. Quit it."

Wilbur was struck dumb. What the hell did he just say? "Did you just..." He trailed off, swallowing thickly. He felt the beginning of tears prick at his eyes. Before Phil could say anything, Wilbur darted into his room.

He slammed his door closed, probably damaging the hinges, but why would he care? His dad just told him he was fishing for attention when he should've been getting comforted.

He felt his breath hitch, and suddenly he was hunched against his bed, knees on the hard ground. His tears silently fell on the wood, sobs wracking his body.

He didn't know how long he'd been on the floor, but he eventually felt the pain on his knees catch up to him and, through shaky gasps, stood and migrated to his bed.

He opted to curl up and cry until he fell asleep, but there was an unfortunate knock at his door, requesting to come in. He groaned, wiping his eyes. "Fuck," he whispered, raspy voice grating in his ears.

He struggled to calm down quickly, so he just winged it and went to his door mid-breakdown. He opened the door, and internally cursed out every deity to ever exist.

"What the hell do you want?" He grumbled, eyes narrowed. Phil seemed taken aback at his immediate rudeness and cleared his throat. "Well, hello, Wil." He tried, giving Wilbur a small smile.

He didn't buy it, and rolled his eyes. "Don't use that nickname." Phil frowned. "I won't ask again. What the hell do you want?" He gave a shallow nod, and sighed.

"I wanted to apologize to you for our argument. I didn't mean to yell, but what I said," Wilbur braced himself. "Was true." He exhaled once again, and shut the door on Phil.