Tainted Perception | Wilbur Soot Angst (ORIGINAL)

Regret

TW: Swearing, lack of control, insanity, panic attack

A/N: It hurts to breathe rn 😃, that's prob not good. I hate being sick, therefore, I torture characters. 

 Wilbur made his way shakily up the stairs, clutching the banister to the point his knuckles turned white. Phil was in the kitchen, presumably making lunch. He had slipped away when the man had left, not wanting to embarrass himself while attempting to stand.

Snapping back to the present, he sped up slightly, wanting to get off the steps. Phil had said that he had left all the items he had picked up on his bed, hopefully that was true. Wilbur really wanted to get out of the clothes he was in. It wasn't that he didn't like the style, or even that it was uncomfortable, he just didn't want to feel like he was a burden. Even though using up Phil's clothes was one of the smallest inconveniences he had put in the man's way. Still, whatever he could do.

Opening the door, his gaze immediately landed on the bed, and he had to hold back a gasp.

-

"I- I was getting you a practice sword, Techno. And Wilbur, I got you a new guitar..." Phil trailed off.

"And it took you a week?" the pig hybrid asked skeptically. "You left us with Tommy!"

"What, do you not want the fucking sword?" Phil exclaimed, brandishing the wooden blade haphazardly.

Techno faltered, "Not at the cost of my brothers' safety," he responded quietly, and Wilbur stepped closer, nodding. Phil's gaze turned to him, and the boy had to stop himself from cowering under the scrutinizing stare. They stood there for a second, both sides at a checkmate, neither knowing what to say.

Suddenly, the man reached behind him, not breaking eye contact. Wilbur had to hold back a gasp, in his hands was a guitar. It was perfect. The coat glossy and smooth, the wood unmarked and delicately cut. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, it was smashed to smithereens.

Gaping at the now broken instrument, Wilbur felt himself drop to his knees, frantically gathering the remaining pieces as if he could magically sew them back together. Techno stooped next to him, a hand resting on his back as he helped. Wilbur wasn't sure why he did, the instrument meant nothing to the pig hybrid, but he needed it in that moment. Maybe his twin knew that. Rage filled him as he glared up at his "father."

"What the fuck was that for?" he yelled, his hands curling into fists as he thought about the shattered guitar at his feet.

"You're being an ungrateful shit!" Phil shouted back, using his height to dwarf the young boy. Shrinking back, Will's courage evaporated. Despite his height and the years that had gone by since the incident, he was still a traumatized nine year old, whether or not he remembered the details. Holding his arms above his head and squeezing his eyes shut, he waited anxiously for the blow. Phil seemed to realize his mistake.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he apologized, attempting to get closer, only for Techno to step in front, protecting his brother.

"Wha- what's going on?" a small voice asked. Everyone seemed to freeze.

"Don't- don't worry about it, Tommy," Wilbur stated calmly, somehow keeping his voice steady. "Here, let's- let's head to bed, yeah?" he suggested, glancing at Techno, trusting him to figure it out. The pig hybrid nodded.

Wilbur made quick work, ushering the young boy up the stairs, shooing him into his room.

"What's happening?" Tommy asked again, digging in his heels to prevent himself from being pushed any further.

"Nothing," Wilbur insisted, and it was obvious that the boy didn't believe him.

"Tell me, Wilby!" the brunet paused, raising his eyebrow at the mistake. "What did you just call me?" The blond looked down sheepishly, red dancing on his cheeks as he realized what he said.

"Shut up," he muttered.

Wilbur smiled, "Bed with you, Gremlin!" he whisper yelled, attacking Tommy's stomach with moving fingers. The boy squealed with laughter, trying to get away from the tickling hands.

"I give up! I give up!" he screeched, running to his bed (making sure to not leave a single limb in the open).

"You're- you're gonna be a great man, one day," Wilbur stated after a beat of silence, his gaze resting fondly on his brother's smiling face.

"You are too!" Tommy replied. If only he knew how false that statement would turn out to be. How much of a failure his older brother would become.

-

Wilbur took in a big, shaky, breath, trying to calm his racing heart. It's fine. I'm fine. It's just an instrument. His mind remained unconvinced. Brushing past it, he reached for the clothes. Pulling them on, he relished the feeling of something familiar. Smiling slightly, he made his way back downstairs, trying to ignore the lingering feeling of dread pooling in his gut. 

Editor Moon: That sickness was walking pneumonia... which was not fun