life on the line. || W. Soot ~ Angstfic

☁️ Chapter 8 - I can't ☁️

A/N Alright guys, craft yo belts. Philza's in a bad mood. Also, this chapter is mostly based on the anorexia

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

T/W Swearing, anorexia +1 (place is marked)

"We're home!"

Wilbur spoke as they three boys returned from the park. He set his key down and they all took their shoes and coats off. The aroma of jacket potato emanated in the air - it caused Wilbur's stomach to grumble in desperation. However, Wilbur had already created a plan. For him, eating dinner was like committing a crime - he had to be sly as a fox as to not raise suspicions.

Phil poked his head out from the kitchen - he had the radio on as well as oven gloves decorated with flowers. The potatoes were wrapped in a neat blanket of foil, sunbathing under the lamp behind the oven doors.

"Welcome back, boys. How was it?" Philza then asked politely. All three responded positively, Tubbo mentioning their temporary bee friend. This caused the blonde-haired man to chuckle lightly.

Wilbur's POV

"How was it?" Phil asked.

"It was great!" I smiled enthusiastically - that was probably the happiest I'd ever been in.. well, a while. When I looked up from my shoes, I spotted Philza's attention mostly on Tubbo and Tommy. It didn't exactly create much of a reaction from me as it would've done - I had just experienced the time of my life. Even though we just looked at a bee and some more flowers. Tommy's enthusiasm, Tubbo's dark humour.. I felt welcome with them. Safe. Accepted. But most importantly, they actually treated me like they wanted me to be there.

After we'd briefly explained our trip, we were all told to sit at the table for our dinner. There were five chairs - one had been placed at the end of the table to make room for Tubbo. It made me realise..Tubbo was staying for dinner. Oh no. Maybe I could just..

"Hey, um, Phil?"

Philza turned his gaze onto me, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you mind if I skip dinner today? I already ate before I-"

"Yes, I do mind."

That was quick.

Phil spoke once again, this time crouching down to take the potatoes out the oven.

"I don't know what's going on with you, young man, but you skip dinner almost every night and it's really pissing me off now."

I sucked in a breath of anticipation. Was this what he meant by 'talk' on the phone?

"My tastebuds are weird, you know that.." I quickly stated. It was a sad excuse, but it was true. Still, Phil wasn't buying it.

"No. To me, it feels like you don't like my cooking. You ate the salad fine, but when it comes to actual meals, you act like it's some kind of disease-"

"Dad, can we not do this Infront of Tubbo?" I whispered quietly, glancing over at the brown-haired boy staring up at us with wide, shocked eyes. He whispered something to Tommy, who shrugged in response.

Phil narrowed his blue eyes - cold as ice - then let out an agitated huff.

"Fine. We'll continue this later, sit down." The man muttered.

Letting out a shaky sigh, I pulled the chair out from under the table. The sound of it scraping across the floor made me wince and I looked briefly at my father incase it infuriated him. As I sat down, both of my brothers' stares were locked on my tense self, although there were two different emotions behind them. Sympathy, confusion..