TW: Swearing, hospitals, anxiety
A/N: flasshhhhbaccckkksss
Wilbur stared off into space, not quite registering that he was awake. He didn't want to face the world. Lazily drifting his eyes across the room, his gaze landed on his guitar, before trailing off once again. He couldn't do that right now, he was probably the only one awake. There was no reason to make Phil madder than he already was.
Speaking of the man, Wilbur couldn't seem to get it around his head what had happened last night. It just seemed so... out of character. Not only the breaking of the instrument, but buying it in the first place. It wasn't like he never bought them anything, or didn't take care of them, it just didn't seem like him to spend an entire week to get it. Also, what took him a week in the first place?
Whatever, it didn't matter. It wouldn't happen again, anyway. Shaking his head, Wilbur made a decision and snagged his guitar as he made his way outside, not bothering with changing, it wasn't like anyone would see him. The sun had not yet crested the horizon, the cold, morning wind tugging at his hair and clothes.
Shivering slightly, he trudged over to a nearby rock, the surface still slightly wet from the light rain that had fallen the night before. Ignoring the goosebumps that pricked at his bare arms, he brought the guitar into position, preparing his stiff fingers to play. Then he stopped, hesitating. What if I wake someone up? Shaking the thought off, he took a deep breath, and began to play.
Hissing with pain, he brought his finger up to his face, examining the reopened cut. He had forgotten about that. Shaking his head, he scanned the ground for a small rock or wood chip in place of a pick, before bringing the instrument back into his lap. Chuckling despite himself, he started again, trying to recall the lyrics that he had written not that long ago.
Scrunching his eyebrows in concentration, he tried to ignore the buzzing strings that came with the unfamiliar chords, he would iron out the mistakes later, right now, he just wanted the basic shape.
I said to leave me
They didn't go
I said to go away
And leave me alone
Why is it so hard?
I say it everyday
It's not that difficult
It's not a fucking essay
He paused, trying to find a suitable next line. Crack! Whipping around, Wilbur froze in surprise as he watched his brother look down sheepishly, a broken stick underfoot.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
"I... was awake and heard you singing?" Tommy answered hesitantly, obviously embarrassed at being caught. Wilbur sighed, shaking his head, trying to hold back his smile.
"Sit down then." Tommy's grin could outshine the sun.
"Than-"
"But, be quiet!" The boy snapped his mouth shut, still beaming like an idiot. Wilbur glanced away, hiding a smile of his own. At least someone was interested in his music.
-
Wilbur awoke with a start. Phil was across the room, a tray of food now on an extra chair. How long was I asleep? Shaking the thought off, he snuck a glance up at the man, who was looking at him with a raised eyebrow.
"What?"
"Nothing, mate." Wilbur eyed him suspiciously, as if daring him to admit to whatever words he was holding back. "You hungry?" The man started to shake his head, before seeing Phil's concerned look, to which he quickly agreed. He was obviously worrying the man, and there was no need to make it worse.
Taking the tray from Phil's outstretched hand, he gingerly brought the food to his lips, trying to ignore the watchful gaze of the man across from him. It wasn't terrible. The food was obviously made in a local shop (I have no idea what the rules are in the UK, I'm just gonna use my experience from like three years ago lmao), as the hospital didn't provide anything meal wise. Forcing the remaining food down, he glanced up at Phil, who had thankfully looked away awhile ago.
Stretching out his arm awkwardly (ignoring the pain in his side as he did so), the man thankfully noticed the tray in his hand and took it from him, looking satisfied by the amount consumed. Settling back into the bed, he looked down at his hands, struggling to keep them still. He hated this.
Link to the song that was in the chapter! (I started guitar less than a week ago, so we aren't talking about the mistakes)! https://pin.it/3U6yfcj
PS: I don't know if anyone cares but that's the first song I've ever written on the guitar and I'm very proud of figuring out the basics (YouTube and Ultimate Guitar are great) in four days, so yeah
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Tainted Perception | Wilbur Soot Angst (ORIGINAL)
Fanfiction(ORIGINAL) Wilbur was dead, simple as that. It was a bit lonely, being in that train station, but it wasn't terrible. Then the impossible happened, he woke up. It wasn't real. How could it not be real? How could all of the things he had experienced...
