Tainted Perception | Wilbur Soot Angst (ORIGINAL)

Stress

TW: Hopefully medically accurate seizure, PTSD kinda

A/N: As mentioned in the A/N, there is a seizure, that I spent like 45 minutes researching on proper medical stuff on, soooo.... hopefully it's right, if not, please tell me for future reference. 

 Phil found Wilbur staring off into space more and more as the weeks went on. The life that had once filled the man's eyes drained, like a lightbulb that had been left on for too long, like a flame whose fuel had run out.

Sighing into his hands, Phil ripped his gaze away from the man. He was always regarded as "Dadza," the "Internet Dad." Yet, when faced with his best friend, he didn't know what to do.

Thud!

"Will?!" the man called, his gaze immediately going towards the ceiling. No response. Making his way upstairs, the man paused outside of Wilbur's room, taking a breath. Knock, knock, knock. No answer. Knock, knock. Trying to reign in his panic, Phil opened his mouth, announcing his presence. "Wilbur? Wilbur I'm gonna come in, okay?" Counting down briefly in his head, the man ripped open the door.

The man was on the floor, his gaze unfocused, his body thrashing uncontrollably. Falling to his knees, Phil messily pushed the few things near Will away, making sure the brunet's head stayed far from the bed and wall. Turning him onto his side gently, the man threw a glance at the clock, making a mental note of the time.

-

Seconds seemed to slow as the man waited anxiously for the (what he presumed to be) seizure to stop. Finally, however, Wilbur stilled, his eyes focusing as he glanced around the room.

"Phil?" the man asked tiredly, his head falling back heavily onto the floor.

"Yeah."

"Wha- where- where are we?"

"We're in your room, my house," Phil answered softly, helping Wilbur sit up gently.

"What- what happened?"

"You had a seizure, mate."

"Oh."

"If you can stand, I think we should go to the doctor's as soon as possible," the blond informed patiently, his voice low. Wilbur nodded slowly, his brain seeming to process the information.

-

Wilbur felt like he was floating, or maybe sinking, he wasn't sure. Everything just felt so surreal, as if he wasn't in control. Then again, when was he ever? His future was always dictated by those around him, whether or not he acknowledged the fact in the moment. Wincing, he got up slowly, clutching his stomach as he stood. It had been almost a month since he had been cornered in the alley, but this felt different. He had been shot in the side, not the stomach.

Suddenly, a flash of light caught his eye. Reacting instinctively, the man knocked the metal out of Phil's hand, bringing his hands up defensively. Backing up slowly, the man's vision finally focused, the keys for the car now lying on the floor, Phil's confused face evident. Bringing his arms down, he ducked his head, red flushing at his cheeks.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"It's alright, mate."

-

Techno frowned as he watched Phil's location move slowly across the screen. He was trying to stalk his friend, but the blond had given him location services through his phone number. Shaking the thoughts off, Techno quickly concluded that Phil was heading towards the ER. How he did this? He's the Human GPS! Well.... Actually the blond was already in the parking lot, so it wasn't that hard.

He considered shooting the man a text, but realized it would probably be very creepy, and probably more stressful than helpful to ask. Frowning, Techno finally put his phone away, trying to refrain from immediately pulling it back out. He hated uncertainties.

Shorter one, I know, but I just needed to update something, and now I'm being forced to go to bed. Have a wonderful day/night!