a series of sbi oneshots

bite back pt 1

summary

Wilbur knew that the world set him up for failure.

He couldn't give less of a shit.

If that was what the world wanted, then sure. He'd prove it right. He was meant to be a failure.

But, if he was destined to fail, then he'd drag everything down with him.

He'd make the world remember its mistake for letting him live for as long as he can.

Or

Wilbur is a FUCKER and an overpowered bastard. This man is really not good. Like, super awful. Holy shit.

Tommy doesn't realize this though, so... uh oh.

Wilbur knew the world set him up for failure.

Wilbur didn't care in the slightest. If the world wanted him to suffer, he would. It was just that he would bite back at the world with more ferocity than it could ever send back. He guaranteed it.

Phil was never around. Always leaving, flying out the doors at a time of the night that Wilbur was never awake. One day, he would believe that maybe, just maybe Phil was going to stick around, but the next morning the house would be completely empty.

Wilbur wondered if that was his fault. That maybe he was just that unlovable to the point where even the world hated him.

Wilbur would wake up at night from a night terror, and be left alone to shadows and darkness that he swore were trying to eat him. It was just an active imagination, but he was terrified. He didn't want to be alone. He lost his mother to an illness, then his father never decided to stay.

Wilbur wanted someone, anyone to listen to his issues. To be there when he needed help, hell, to just be there. To just exist in his life and actually remember he existed half the time. That's all he wanted, that all he's ever wanted for such a long time.

He just wanted someone to call his own. Family, friend, lover, anything at all.

On Wilbur's eighth birthday, the world seemed to take some pity on him.

Waking up that day, once again alone, he had walked down the stairs and opened the front door to start his typical chores.

It was this simple action that instantly threw his life into a domino effect of events.

"What the fuck."

It was a child.

A whole ass child at his doorstep. Not even a child, a fucking baby.

Wilbur's next couple of days were hell.

He wasn't meant to raise a fucking child at eight years old. He had no experience, no understanding of what to do, and he was just walking around without really any thought in mind. Wilbur didn't know what to do.

Wilbur had never been to town. It was far from where he lived because Phil had decided to be as secluded as possible. Almost like a 'fuck you' to if Wilbur had ever wanted to get something when Phil wasn't around. Like Phil just wanted him to starve to death.

Well, Wilbur learned how to tend to crops and animals very early, as well as he learned how to cook. So, he wins that fight.

When Wilbur entered the town, he realized that he wouldn't be accepted quite so easily. It seems that because Wilbur never left that house before, no one here recognized him. Phil also had a nasty rumor about him floating about, the title of 'Angel of Death' being quite intimidating. He couldn't just say 'hey, I'm Phil's son' since that would probably result in him getting less help.