Tainted Perception | Wilbur Soot Angst (ORIGINAL)

Finally

TW: Swearing, themes of depression

A/N: Don't really like this chapter, but it's okay

 They were finally going home. Phil didn't know why, but the thought sent relief flowing through him. It had been almost two weeks since the accident, and the doctors had decided that it was safe for Wilbur to be out of the hospital. Giving the nurse a weak smile as he rolled the man down the hall (in a wheelchair) to the car. He almost had a twinge of nostalgia as they made their way to the exit.

Of course there would be several follow up appointments and (most likely) setbacks, but it was a step in the right direction. Opening the car door, he waited patiently as Wilbur stood up carefully, sitting down awkwardly in the open seat. Making his way over to the other side of the vehicle, he was about to get in when he heard a voice.

"Hello?" Philza turned, his eyes landing on a teenager, probably couldn't be much older than fourteen.

"Hi?"

"Are- are you Philza Minecraft?" Fuck. Why now?

"Um, yes. That is me."

"Is it- is it okay-" They swallowed. "Can- can I have a photo?" The man turned slightly, glancing longingly at the car beside him. He was so close.

"Uhhh, sure!" He moved awkwardly next to the teen. "Be careful not to get the licence plate," he added with a laugh, throwing a glance at the screen to make sure they didn't.

"Oh, yeah- yeah of course!" they agreed, their hands shaking slightly with what Phil could only assume to be nerves. Click! "Thank you!" they said gratefully, clutching their phone as if their life depended on it.

"No problem, mate." Sighing with relief, Phil quickly made his way into the car.

"Oh, you're so famous! Philza Minecraft!" Wilbur teased, a smile resting gently on his face.

"Oh, shut up."

-

Ranboo stared blankly at the computer screen, mindlessly placing blocks as he ran around the empty Minecraft world. Was this seriously what he was going to do with the entirety of his day? Sighing into his hands, he sat back in his chair, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He should probably go to sleep, but he just didn't feel like it. Everything was just so stressful. Phil wasn't answering his phone, no one was streaming, the fanbase was up in arms, and no one knew what the heck happened to Wilbur.

Tapping his fingers randomly on his desk as his gaze wandered aimlessly around the room, he tried to ignore all of the 'what if' questions that were popping into his mind. Why was life so freaking inconsistent (ba dum tss... I'm hilarious guys)? Resisting the urge to slap his forehead at the dumb thought, the teen made his way to the bathroom, splashing his face with cold water as if that could reset his brain.

Ring! Ring! Ring! (I couldn't find a better onomatopoeia) Turning slightly, Ranboo reached for his phone, bringing it to his ear.

"Hey, Tommy."

"Hi, Big Man."

"Can you gimme a sec, I'mma switch to my PC," Ranboo explained, already making his way over to his desk.

"Sure." There was a pause, neither talking as the boy went to Discord, joining the call from there before hanging up on his phone.

"Okay, there we go. What's up?"

"The sky," Tommy joked, but the enthusiasm wasn't quite there.

"Hahaha," Ranboo said sarcastically, slouching down in his chair once again. "You can tell me Tommy," he added sincerely, waiting patiently for the boy to formulate a response.

"I dunno, I'm just... stressed. Everything's just happening so fast, ya know?"

"I know what you mean. No break for us, amirite?" Tommy chuckled dryly at the attempted joke.

"Sounds about right." There was a pause, neither knowing what to say. "Have you- have you talked to Tubbo recently?"

"I haven't, no," Ranboo answered. "Why?"

"I- I'm just worried about him, man. He isn't really answering any of my texts or calls, and if he does it's always short one word answers or excuses." Ranboo frowned, clicking on his and Tubbo's DM's, confirming Tommy's words.

"I think- I hope, I guess, I hope he's just processing differently than us. Or maybe- or maybe he's just on a different stage in the- in the five stages of grief, ya know?"

"I suppose," Tommy agreed, but Ranboo could hear his doubt.

"Hey, if I'm wrong, and I probably am 'cause I'm not a psychologist, we can always call him. If he doesn't answer, we can either spam his text messages, or you could go invade his house. I mean, either works," the teen joked, though he was being half serious.

"I mean..." Tommy said with a laugh. "That could work." 

Have a wonderful day/night!