Silent Screams // WILBUR SOOT ANGST // SBI ADOPTION AU

(1)

The music lover listened to the muffled rumbling of the car, resting his head on the window as he slowly watched the raindrops race down the sides of the window. The raindrops carelessly being lit up by the obnoxious street lights spilling an offputting orange through the empty roads.

"Wilbur, I know Phil. He's a good guy." His social worker, Eret , spoke from the drivers seat meeting Wilburs terrified auburn eyes in the mirror before she put their attention back onto the road and sighed. 'Yeah, right' Wilbur silently scoffed before peering down at his brown satchel. What was left of his very few belongings hidden inside, including a black notebook decorated with music stickers and band lyrics on the front - which held pages of his very small communications with people. Most of them just filled with 'sorry' or 'i'm mute' from past foster homes who didn't care enough to read his file - or ignored Eret when he told them about it.
"I told Phil, about.. well." Eret paused unsurely catching a glimpse of Wilbur in the mirror again, inhaling sharply before continuing,
"you know." She finished, Wilbur just nodded along in response watching the world pass by in unfamiliar dull blurs because he did know.

He did know how his eyes screamed the emotions he couldn't verbally communicate and he did notice the disgusted or annoyed looks he got when people realised he wouldn't talk, he still had the scar from one family.
'FREAK' carved into his hip bone, a reminder that he would never be accepted - as if the silence wasn't already loud enough for him to realise this.

He could talk, he faintly remembered a blurry summer day filled with toothy grins and icecreams where he rambled to a blurry face he called 'Mummy' about why he liked eating sand. That was the thing with Wilbur, unlike other kids, he had no traumatic story to tell about how he ended up in the system. He didn't have any cool survivor scars he could show off either. Missing people who abandoned him was how he spent his childhood until he had been passed around enough homes to realise that it didn't matter how much you spoke about it - nothing ever changed. So he just stopped, one night, a dark night in June. Eret never got the full story and after sending the now teenager to multiple therapists who didn't know what to do - she eventually just accepted it.

"You can sleep, if you'd like. We still have over an hour left and it's pretty much 11pm already." Eret stated, the teen nodded and attempted to get comfy in the back seat as Eret turned the radio down until it was barely audible - but Wilbur found himself tapping along to unfamiliar tunes eitherway. He loved music; songs expressed what he couldn't.

***

"Wilbur, wake up!" The teen grumbled as he sat up, glancing at his social worker with furrowed eyebrows while rubbing an eye tiredly making Eret chuckle in response.
"We're here." Was all they said as the duo got out the car, Wil paid no mind to the neighbourhood or house as he watched Eret knock gently on the door - what was the point of admiring? He'd be leaving soon, anyway.

Soon enough, a man with sandy hair and a green and white striped bucket hat was stood at the door sporting a wide smile and shaking Erets hand, Wilbur cringed. He hated the ones who seemed nice at the beginning, who care enough to try and act sweet, they were always the worst.
"Come in! Come in! My other two are fast asleep already." The man, Phil, he presumed, spoke before moving out of the way welcoming them into his home.. and the house was welcome. From the open door to the wide hallway, photos of wide smiles and happy memories were proudly displayed, the people in it were so obviously loved.. Wil frowned, he wondered what that felt like. The second thing he noticed were the shoes tucked away at the side, he watched Eret slip her loafers off before slipping his own worn out converse off, it wouldn't take a genius to realise Wil only owned hand me down clothes from previous homes from the way his blue jeans were stained with mud at the cuffs and his black hoodie was threatening to suffocate him at any given moment, a double look at the hoodie would reveal the faint smiley face printed on the front.. And Phil couldn't help but chuckle softly at the hoodie as he lead them into his kitchen offering the duo drinks as they sat on the barstools.

"I'll have a water, if you're offering. Wilbur?" Eret answered before nudging the brunettes shoulder who shook his head in response, for a brief second he met the blondes ocean eyes and immediately felt his face heat up as he redirected his gaze to the pattern of the marble surface. He ignored the ongoing conversation and focused on his surroundings, mentally mapping escape routes but also noticing the clutter that was somehow neatly sat in corners. There was such a drastic difference between his previous emergency foster homes and this one - this one actually looked lived in.. it almost felt like home.

Almost. But never quite.

After what felt like decades, Eret was gone, leaving Wilbur awkwardly shifting his weight on the barstool before Phil returned still sporting a cheesy grin. He expected the hits to start any second now, or atleast some dumb comments, but he received nothing asides from a warm smile.
"Hi mate, I know you already know who I am - Philza, but feel free to call me Phil. Or anything really, my other sons are already in bed, I'm not sure if Eret told you about them or not. But you and Techno, my oldest, are the same age.. He's a few months older, but you're both 16. He's a sweet boy but puts up a front, don't take it personally, he's a softie really. Tommy is the youngest. He's 12 and I must warn you - he'll talk your ear off if you let him." As the man rambled on about his sons with a loving tone, Wilbur suddenly felt like he was intruding. This family seemed perfect, like the ones from films, why did they foster? Were they-
"Wilbur? You alright there? Sort of zoned out on me for a second." The man interrupted his thoughts causing the younger to hesitantly nod, picking at the skin around his fingernails.
"Alright, I'll show you to your room. I'll give you a proper tour tomorrow."

And Wilbur almost smiled, maybe this wasn't home, but for now -

it felt safe.

And that was enough for him.