the same words i wanted to hear by everyone. ||SLOW UPDATES MAYBE||

[PROLOGUE]

the boy rocked himself as his mind was filled with him.

He kept mutter-humming a specific song, stalker's tango, but there was this bit that he had it stuck in his head.
It were the same words he begged his father to say to him.
It were the same words his brother begged him to say
It were the same words that wanted to be true
it were the same fucking words he wanted to feel.

love.
The British kept telling himself with a husky voice, love me, love me, love me, repeatedly fast.
He clutched onto his beanie and his wavy dark chest-nut hair with a few streaks of white-cream that hid quite a portion of his face. You could say he was an E-boy, estimatedly.

LOVE ME LOVE ME LOVE ME LOVE ME JUST FUCKING LOVE ME!

He'd gasp out as he sore his eyes out with barely any tears left.
Wilbur stood up shakily but steadily and searched through the drawers looking for a very specific item,

something very, very precious...
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Wilbur soot is quite a fine young man in his mid-twenties. He's sophisticated, charming, heart warming and a very educated man. He's got a psychology master's degree and takes many, many music lessons a week since he were 9.
Apart from that, he was also quite the handsome indeed.

His hair was just enough to not be considered awkward length, it was dark-chestnut brown with a long streak of white-cream as well as his hair tips to compliment him. He wore golden, round glasses and had a few freckles on the tip of his nose and ears. The tips of his ears were pointy-like, just like an elves' ears. He was certainly tall and very, very lanky.
To carry on to his description, he wore quite the dark outfits. His Aesthetic was dark academia mixed with a very low tint of dreamcore.

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Wilbur soot's breath was hasting up, his mind going crazy as he tried to find that one picture of his past lover, sally, She was a damned whore who'd fallen inlove with this fine man. Her manners were all over the place but he'd loved her anyway, well; until she'd abandoned him. But that's a story that is not linked with what's wrong with our protagonist.
As much as he hated her for leaving him, he'd kept this one picture of her where her face hadn't shown in the picture. it comforted him, they were in a sunflower field, all the flowers surrounded the salmon, giving her the mother-nature effect.

Tear drops wettend the small picture of the gorgeous woman, the british's hands shook like no other but it certainly calmed him, his lips quivered due to his teeth rattling from anxiety, sleep deprivation, everything you could EVER imagine.. you could tell that woman changed his life completely and that is why'd he blamed her for the sudden change that had occurred to him last summer, or december was it..? he couldn't remember. It was for the best, anyways.

He gulped down any accumulated saliva in his cavern, and took a big, deep sigh out as he had calmed down. The man looked at his hands, and sighed once more a tired sigh.

His golden-brown eyes trailed to his king sized bed, of which he had decided it were best to rest. He had been shook'd up and it was time for a good-night's sleep. But he had other papers to fill, y'know.. job stuff. He decided it was a: 'tomorrow-wilbur-soot-problem'...