Cold Stew - One Shot

Cold Stew

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       It had been a week since they left. The three still haven't come back. Phil sighed, running out of things to do. He didn't want to go to his hardcore world, afraid he might miss them coming home. So, he improved the house, cleaned, or even just slept. Sometimes, he thought they might have forgotten him. Maybe they don't like him. Phil shook his head. No, their just busy. He sighed, that seemed to be his only excuse for their absence.

        But then, a knock at the door. Phil quickly sat up, watching as Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy walked in. Bruised with cuts on them. He jumped up, walking over, a worried look on his face.
        "What happened to you? Are you okay? Why-"
         "Not now Phil. We're kinda in a hurry." Wilbur inturupted, pushing past him and walking to his room. Oh ok. He could feel his heart sink at the cold tone he used.
        "Well, why don't you guys sit down and eat some potato soup? I made it awhile ago but it should still be good." Phil said excitedly, walking over to the freezer where he put it. The stew took awhile to gather ingredients for so he wasn't gonna waste it. He grinned, it was great to have them back! A sudden rush of energy gathering in his bones.

        "Sorry Phil, but we are kinda in the middle of something. Will just forgot a weapon back home." Tommy pointed out, Techno glancing behind him. Phil stopped,
        "Oh... Well, when will you be back?" He closed the freezer, still holding a tupperware of soup in his hand. The icy cold burning into his flesh.
         "Im not sure..." He hummed, handing the frozen stew to Tommy.
         "How about you three take some potato stew. Want me to grab more?" Techno shook his head,
         "Nah it's fine. Thanks though." Soon Wilbur burst out of his room, holding a netherite sword.
        "I knew I had it here! Okay let's go!" The three rushed out, Wilbur turning to Phil. "Bye! Sorry for the short visit." He slammed the door, leaving him back in the empty house.

       Well, at least they took some of the stew- he looked down to see the tupperware of soup laying on the floor. He picked it up, frowning. Looks like Tommy dropped it.

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       It had been three weeks since they last visited. Phil worked on his hardcore world and on their house. No calls or anything was being heard from them. So, he gave up. They'll be back soon. Surely.

        That is, until he saw the newspaper. He had ordered it on a rather boring day. Phil opening the paper up, skimming through it with half lidded eyes. That is, until he saw some fimilar faces. His eyes widened as he saw Techno, Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo posing together. All smiling and happy, bright yellow crowns on their heads. The title read "Sleepy Bois Inc Wins Minecraft Championship!" Phil blinked, was he not invited to the event this year?

        Wait, wasn't he part of the sleepy bois? Why wasn't he included? He huffed, throwing the paper aside. It's fine. He's happy that they won. No it's fine, calm down, it's fine. He wasn't hurt. Phil couldn't help but feel an aching in his heart. Newspaper crinkling in the grip of his hand.

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       The next week, nothing was heard execpt a knock on his door. Phil brightened, quickly rushing to answer it. He swung it open to see not Wilbur, Tommy, or Techno. But Dream, standing alone. He held red flowers in his hand, which just confused him.

       "Um, hi? Is there something you need?" Phil watched as the masked man handed him the flowers. The red petals bright and colorful. It warmed his heart, but why had they been given to him?
        "I'm sorry Phil but.... Techno, Tommy, and Wilbur didn't make it alive out of the explosion." The flowers fell from his hands, eyes wide. Petals painted the ground, the red color now harsh in his eyes.
        "W-what?" He stuttered.

        "Don't you know? I thought they wrote to you. But Wilbur blew up Manburg, the explosion killed a lot of people." He glanced away, "thought I'd tell you. So, sorry about your loss." Dream akwardly walked away, closing the door. Leaving Phil in shock, flowers on the floor.

       His knees gave out from under him, the bucket hat floating down. What did Phil do? He cried. Loud sobs echoed throughout his house as his wings wrapping around him. His heart aching and body shaking with tears plopping into the floor.

       After all that time... They were dead. And he had never felt more alone.

       The potato soup that sat in his bowl was cold. Steam no longer rising from it. His spoon clean and napkin unused.

       Chairs around the table were empty with no sign of life within the house.
  
        A small feather could be seen on the dusty table. Many feathers were scattered around the house. Blood painting the floor like red flower petals. Violent and mean.

        The stew is cold. With nobody sleeping inside the home.

       Omg what happened?? Take a guess.

       Anyways, hurt with no comfort pog? Yeah. Was feeling poetic. Wrote this angst, and just left.

       Hope you enjoyed the short story, it was really just for fun. See ya in a bit, bye!