Genre: Angst and comfort
Main focus: Wilbur and Phil
CW: blood, i will mention Will cutting his palm by accident, description of a panic attack..yeah all that fun stuff
Words: 1943
Edit 9/1/2021: Um,,, This oneshot, now looking back at it, is so bad,,, what the fuck was i doing,,,, guys I promise there's better stuff,,,
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The tall brit was just lying down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He didn't say anything. He didn't do anything. Just stared.
His brothers and father were fast asleep by now and no wonder they were - it was 3 am and the musician was still up. He was too troubled by his thoughts to have a good, peaceful night. His mind didn't let him rest.
Wilbur sat up with a sigh. It was quite annoying as well. He couldn't even cry this misery out of him. One reason being he would feel weak if he did and he didn't want that. And the second being..He literally couldn't. Even if he tried, no tears would find their way out.
And he couldn't play his pain out on his guitar in the room, since everybody's been sleeping.
It was like hell. Thinking about it, even if he would feel stupid for crying, it would help him find relief. But instead all the suffering stays inside him and builds up slowly. Wilbur didn't know when he would reach his breaking point and honestly? He didn't want to know.
"This is so fucking stupid.. Why can't I feel anything besides this..this..misery inside of me?"
All this time the musician only could fake smiles at his family to not worry them and say he is fine, even though he wasn't. There were some close calls, where he almost let the others know about his suffering, but was lucky enough to play it off.
He wanted help, deep inside he was screaming for somebody to comfort him. But the voices in his head didn't let him reach out. He didn't deserve that. He would just worry his family and make them feel guilty, sad, anxious. He didn't want that, the only person who deserved to hurt was him.
Wilbur groaned, rubbing his eyes and standing up. He couldn't be in his room any longer, he needed some fresh air. He took his guitar and went downstairs. The brunette tried to be as quiet as he could be, but every now and then a loud creak could be heard from the floor, followed by quiet cursing. Lucky enough, nobody woke up.
Eventually he got to the door, placing his guitar down and putting on his jacket with fur on the hood over his sweater, careful not to push off his red beanie by his clumsy hands. He even had to wear glasses, since his eyes were quite tired and unfocused, so the only way to not have a blurry vision were his round glasses, which he put on shortly after the jacket.
When Wilbur was ready, he left the house with the musical intrument. It's been quite cold outside, which wasn't really a surprise considering it was the middle of November.
The sweater lover walked into the park not so far from the house, where he always went when he needed to pour his heart out late at night. The best thing about the place he lived in with his family was that nobody really went outside at night, so Wilbur could play all he wanted without anybody staring at him.
He sat on the bench right next to his favourite tree, where he usually played under on the grass when the weather was nice, and started strumming. Music always helped him forget about all his worries and dark thoughts.
As he sang and played, the brit noticed it..really wasn't helping. He still felt like a piece of shit if he was being honest. With a sigh he stopped playing.
"For fuck's sake, I thought this would work.."
The thoughts about him being a failure were still there. About him being a disappointment to his brothers and father...
Wilbur sighed and got up, this clearly was not working. So.. To not waste any more time in the cold, he got up, took his guitar and went back.
He got home sooner than he thought or maybe it was just the fact he didn't really think about the time, considering how late it was and how many sleepless nights he experienced lately.
As he took off his jacket and put his guitar down, deciding he would take it later into his room, Wilbur went into the kitchen to just have a glass of water and look at Twitter to distract himself differently.
He leaned against the counter and opened the app, siping on the cold liquid. The guy decided to search his name on there for fun, wanting to know what his fans are up to.
As he scrolled down, looking at the funny and positive tweets, he got to one thread that.. Didn't really speak nicely of him. He opened it and read through the tweets, word by word. And to add to the selfdoubt he already experienced, there also were replies to the thread, many of them agreeing.
"Exactly! I don't get how so many people can like that idiotic british man honestly. He is just fucking annoying."
"Lmao his voice sucks and the music he makes? Jfc that's horrible"
"He just wants to steal the spotlight every fucking time, he won't let Tommy or others lead the fucking story in the smp!"
And many more.
Of course there were some comments that defended him, but all Wilbur could focus on were the negative ones...
"Remember how he refused to give Tubbo his colour back? What an asshole, he could've literally change it and not whine how he is ending the stream which would avoid the drama lmao"
Wilbur's grip on the glass he was holding only tightened, the words echoing in his head too loudly for him to notice the cracking noises.
As Wilbur read more hate comments, the glass broke and cut into his palm, blood immediately pouring out of the wound, making him very shortly scream in pain and sudden shock. It hurt so badly.
The brunette cursed, trying to get the large glass shard out and thank god he succeeded. He hissed at the pain, it stung like hell. The wound was really bad.
But that wasn't what was on his mind now. Instead of worrying about his injury...He panicked about the item. He broke the glass, Phil is going to be so angry at him, he will be disappointed, right? Wilbur causes nothing more than problems, why wouldn't Phil be disappointed.
Wilbur's whole body started shaking. All the hate he just read, his own dark thoughts and now breaking a glass, getting the shards and water everywhere. His mind knew how to make a big deal out of something that wasn't as bad. And yet..
The tall brit broke down on the floor, finally letting out the tears. His sobs were loud and ugly, he was shaking and couldn't quite catch his breath.
Wilbur hugged himself, pulled his knees close to his chest and just sobbed. He didn't care about his clothes soaking with blood now.
All that could be heard were his sobs and gasps for air.
All this noise from the kitchen woke up the father of this family. He was confused at first but then heard Wilbur cursing and a thud. Phil immediately got out of his bed and rushed downstairs, worried sick about his son. He didn't check what the time was. All that mattered was Will.
As he reached the kitchen, he saw it all. He saw the mess on the counter and the sobbing man on the floor that was his son. Phil slowly approached him.
"Will...Will hey.."
He carefully put a hand on his son's shoulder, making him flinch but as soon as he saw whos hand it was, Wilbur just stared with pain in his eyes. Phil knew he was having a panic attack and a bad one it seemed.
"Wilbur, I need you to breathe. Close your eyes and breathe slowly, like this"
Phil was careful not to take the musician's injured hand, which he would worry about later. Now he needed to calm him down.
He put the hand on his chest and breathed slowly with Wilbur, trying to help. And to prevent any of the brothers scaring Will if they went downstairs to check what's happening, he basically hid Wilbur behind his dark wings.
After several minutes his son wasn't hyperventilating anymore, and so he let go of his hand, only to be pulled into a hug. Of course he returned the gesture, rubbing his son's back for comfort and for extra warmth wrapping his wings around him. It helped Wilbur calming down, while caressing the wings for the soft texture. For some reason it was helpful for the musician to calm down.
"It's alright, I'm here now.. You did nothing wrong Wilbur.. Everything is fine.."
Phil figured out part of the man's panic would be the broken glass, so he wanted to try and say it's fine to calm Wilbur down.
"Now I need you to show me your hand, so I can see how bad the cut is.."
All he got in response was a hum. The tall guy pulled away from the hug when Phil's wings unwrapped him and even though he was still shaky, he showed his father the injury.
After seeing the wound, the older man stood up and went for some bandaids from the first aid kit and wrapped the hand with it. They will need to visit the hospital, but not now, now he needed to make sure Wilbur was alright.
"Are you okay, son? What happened?"
Wilbur shook his head. He didn't want to hide his misery anymore. He needed help.
He wanted help.
"I..I'm sorry I..I don't know what is wrong with me.. I wanted to deal with my thoughts alone, I tried to distract myself by twitter but I just read some hate tweets about myself and..and then the glass broke and I- I'm just so pathetic, Phil, this is so fucking stupid to have a panic attack over-"
Phil hugged him once again, the hug being returned. He felt Wilbur relax slightly in the hug and rest his head on his shoulder, holding back his tears.
"Wilbur listen.. Whatever you read on there isn't true..I couldn't be more proud of you being my son.. You are amazing and talented, you bright up my and your brothers' days so much.. Whatever those fuckers said about you isn't true and never will be.."
Those kind words just made Wilbur tear up once again. He would try to argue about it not being true, but he was just so exhausted.. Phil could tell as he felt the weight of his son's body pressing into him.
"Let's get you to rest now, you're exhausted.."
Wilbur just nodded. Phil stood up with him and helped the younger guy to the couch. He didn't want to drag him across the stairs after all.
Lucky for them, there was a blanket from the night before, when the family had a movie night. So when Wilbur sat down and was about to lie down, he looked at his father.
"Can..Can you please stay..?"
Phil gave him a warm smile and sat down next to him, and as his son rested his head on his shoulder in a hug, he covered them both in the blanket after he once again wrapped them lovingly with his wings.
He was going to talk about everything in the morning, but for now..
Wilbur needed to rest.
Writer's note:
Oh my god, I haven't written anything in so long, and making almost a 2k oneshot as a return to writing is,,, damn,,, I surprised myself considering I wrote it at 5 am xd
Anyways I hope you liked this part 👀✨