Stop Calling me That (mcyt + ftm reader) -Book 1/2-

-39.5-

((Hard to choose a song to represent this whole timeframe. As the discord knows, I've got playlists for some characters on Spotify))

((That's right, another impulsive bonus chapter based on Wilbur's past, who would've guessed. Big ol' ED warning for all of this. No shame in skipping. This all takes place between the events of 35.5 and 34.5))
((I know, I know, really leaving you on that cliffhanger for another chapter?? Yes, yes I am. Really, y'all should expect me to fuck with you by now))

((Oh but you know what you won't expect?))

That's right, Phil POV

((About a year post Jared))

((Warnings: ed, food, vomit, health/heart problems - Referenced: drugs (needles), death, panic attacks, passing out, weight))

Something was up with Wilbur. Phil had known that for a while now, but hadn't been worried enough to actively do anything up until that point.

It'd been one thing when he'd begun to decline any invitations Phil extended to him - that very well could've been just Wilbur being Wilbur and getting too caught up in his work. It'd been another when Kristin had started acting differently around him, clearly concerned and picking up on something he didn't, but refusing to say anything when prompted because she "couldn't be sure and didn't want to assume or worry him over nothing." He was already worried, and the way she dodged whatever it was she was suspecting only made him think it was something even worse than whatever it was.

But none of that had been enough to push him to action. Weekly calls and messages back and forth had been enough to ensure him that at the very least Wil had been hanging in. He didn't want to push him too hard, so he just went with it.

Later, he'd regret that. He didn't know if pushing him would've been any better, but he wished at the very least he'd taken action sooner so he'd at least realize something was wrong. More so than he had imagined.

Wilbur had missed their call. That would've been fine, if he'd messaged saying he was going to be busy, or really just messaged at all that day.

He hadn't been replying since the previous week, and that was what really worried Phil. So, when he didn't pick up at a second call, it finally pushed Phil to figure out what was going on.

It wasn't a long drive, but felt much longer spent in anxious silence. The broken radio and sounds of other cars did nothing to pull him from his own thoughts. Every minute that passed brought a new worst case scenario. He was too rational to properly panic over the idea that he might've fallen over and hit his head, or gotten robbed and was bleeding out, or was kidnapped. He knew those were all highly unlikely, and that it was better to just go check in.

For all he knew, Wilbur had just taken a nap and forgotten about their call. There was no evidence that anything bad had happened, even with his odd behavior. He was just like that sometimes. Phil couldn't remember a point since they'd met that Wil hadn't been at least a tad unusual or distant, and tried to remind himself that jumping to conclusions was silly.

He pulled into a parking spot outside of the small apartment complex. Climbing out, he locked the car. Even if he wouldn't be long, there was no sense taking the risk, it wasn't the safest area. Bottles, trash, and needles littered the edges of the parking lot. A stray paper bag fluttered around like a bird with a broken wing, scraping against the concrete each time it got too close to the ground.