Tainted Perception | Wilbur Soot Angst (ORIGINAL)

Confliction

TW: Panic attack, derealization, swearing, sedation

A/N: Mmmm, angst + cheesy writing, we love it /s

 "Let me see him." Phil said it with absolute authority, it wasn't a request.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't allow that yet."

"Why the fuck not?! You haven't let me see him in the three months he's been in the hospital. The three fucking months!" the male faltered, "Please, please I just want to see him." Suddenly another nurse came running up, they whispered something in the first's ear and they looked back up reluctantly, before motioning for him to follow.

He was led through corridor after corridor, all of them looked practically the same. It was about midday, so there were people bustling around, but that wasn't Phil's focus. His eyes were fixated on the doors, just waiting to see which one the nurse would open. They seemed to walk forever, each step only taking them a small percentage of what they needed. Everything was so surreal. He had been trying and failing to see Will for the past months, they had always turned him down. What was different this time? Finally, the woman he was following stopped.

"This is going to sound a bit strange, but, just be careful right now. He just woke up, and he's very confused. We don't know exactly what the person or people did to him, so, just keep that in mind." she said. He's awake? Opening the door carefully, Phil's gaze landed on the person he hadn't seen in months. He looked so small. His face was pale, his arms skinny. His eyes were darting around the room, never quite resting on a particular object.

"Will?"

-

The man tensed at the voice. The voice he knew so well, the voice that haunted him in the void. The voice that comforted him between and during streams. The last voice he had heard before he died. The voice that his mind couldn't decide whether was good or bad. Slowly, Wilbur turned to meet the gaze of the person he thought cared about him. The eyes, the eyes that he had wanted to see, the eyes that betrayed him. The emotionless eyes that didn't care about him. But these ones weren't emotionless. No, these ones were full of feeling. Worry, care, love, anxiety, relief.

"Phil?" The man asked quietly, his voice not quite sounding like he wanted it to.

"Oh my gosh, Wilbur," The older male rushed forward, and Will shrunk back, quickly putting his hands above him to protect his head. Phil stopped and backed up, reading his body language.

"Will? Are you okay?"

"No, no, no, no, no, no. You killed me. You killed me." The man ran his hands through his hair, trying to sort through all of his thoughts and memories. Phil told him he wouldn't hurt him, but then he did. No, no he couldn't trust him.

"What?"

"You- you said there was nothing I could do or say that would make you hurt me and then you did. You- you killed me." Now Phil looked very confused. Why was he confused? That- that was real wasn't it?

"I- I don't know what you're talking about." Phil stammered.

"I-" Wilbur paused, trying to figure out what to say. "Wha- what happened?"

"Well, what do you remember?"

"We-we had just finished up a stream, and then- and then, someone broke in? The next thing I know someone was over me and then... and then I woke up."

"Woke up?"

"Yeah, yeah I woke up, in- in-" Wilbur faltered. "I- I don't know." Phil seemed to understand that Will was at a loss for words, and quickly jumped in.

"You got kidnapped. I wasn't told all the details but, supposedly, he put you in a coma of sorts. In this coma you would experience another- another life, and the only way- the only way for you to wake up, was- was for you to die."

"So," he swallowed, "So it wasn't real?" Wilbur felt so small when he asked that question. Like a kid asking their parents to promise something.

"No, no mate, it wasn't real." Wilbur nodded, not really absorbing anything that Phil had just said to him. What happened to Tommy? Tubbo? They were right in the heart of the explosion. The explosion that didn't actually happen. The explosion that supposedly was just in his head. Wilbur took a deep breath, trying to calm his heartbeat which was getting increasingly fast. Phil must have noticed the faster beeping on the heart monitor and tried to get closer again. Will flinched away.

"Wha- where is- where is everyone?"

"Who?" Wilbur's stomach dropped. They were real, weren't they? Not some figment of his imagination. No they had to be real, they had to be.

"Tommy, Tubbo, Techno..." He listed, racking his conflicting memories to try to figure out if he had any prior memory of the trio, before L'Manburg.

"They miss you if that's what you mean," Phil said uncertainly. "They still stream and post YouTube videos and stuff like that." Will breathed a sigh of relief.

"Ho-how long has it been?"

"It's been about three months since we found you and got taken to the hospital. But it's been about five months in total since the day you got kidnapped."

"Five months?"

"I know it sounds like a lot, but-"

"It was only five months?" Will racked his brain, scanning his memories for some kind of sign that this was fake, just another so called trick. That it was all in his head. He tried to find some kind of flaw in the world that he himself had apparently created, the years he had spent there. The entire life he had experienced in the span of a couple months.

How could this be real? How could his other life be fake? He remembered everything. He remembered being elated when they had finally won L'Manburg. He remembered his own jealousy as he watched Phil buy Techno another sword, yet forget about his own wish for a guitar. He remembered feeling betrayed when Eret led them to their deaths. He remembered feeling proud as Tommy volunteered his disks for their independence. He remembered the paranoia that occupied his mind in every waking moment and haunted him at night. He remembered the pain of every arrow and knife that had ever embedded itself in his skin. He remembered wrapping his wounds after every training session and battle. He remembered the cold metal of the sword that ended his life. The life that apparently wasn't his. How could that be fake?

No, no this had to be a dream. Any second now he would wake up and be in L'Manburg, or Pogtopia, or even the fucking train station. No this was the fake world. This was just his subconscious trying to cope. He would wake up any second now.

"Any- any second now." Wilbur muttered, his hands clutching the sides of his head. "I'm going to wake up and Tubbo is going to be there asking me about how to be a president. Or, or, or Tommy nagging me about wanting to spar." He was gasping for breath, he couldn't breathe. Why couldn't he breathe? The machines in the room suddenly became much louder, the fast paced beeping of the monitor beside him only adding to his anxiety. That's my heart. He realized. No, no it couldn't be. He was dead, Phil had killed him. It wasn't the outcome he wanted but it was the one he got. Why couldn't he just stay in the train station? It was peaceful there. His fingers pulled at his hair, the pain not registering in his head.

"It's not real. It's not real. It's not real. It's not real! It's not real! IT'S NOT REAL! IT'S NOT REAL!" Hands were holding him, restraining him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw someone inject something into his fluid bag. Phil was still standing there, shock written all over his face. Doctors started to usher him out, he allowed himself to be moved, too stunned to resist. Static filled his mind as he tried in vain to keep himself awake. It's not safe to fall asleep. What if Dream's nearby? What if someone comes for Tommy? His eyes struggled to keep themselves open, his body was shutting down.

"It's alright, sweetie. Just go to sleep, you're going to be alright." It was the same voice from before. The same one that had pulled him from the void. And, for the second time, he listened. 

Some of those lines were so cheesy, but I couldn't find a better way to phrase them. Whatever. I hope you all have a wonderful day/night, and take care of yourselves please!