𝚄𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎

𝟿. 𝙿𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛

-{Word Count: 4732}-

Content/Trigger Warnings

Talk of murder, like a lot

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𝟿. 𝙿𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛

If you thought Wilbur was confused last time, you were right, but it appears the brunette keeps reaching a new low every second that passes. It feels like drowning in quicksand, you know. Not the kind of sand you would joke about, you know, when you joke about eating sand. Well, maybe Wilbur is the only one who jokes about eating sand. Well, maybe, actually, Wilbur isn't joking. Maybe Wilbur just wants to eat some sand to get rid of this confusing situation.

Wilbur turned in his bed as a knock could be heard on his door, ''Wilbur, can I come in?'' Wilbur looked up with a dazed look at the closed door. Phil was standing at the other side, the same guy who killed his actual father is now just- what? Playing his father? Life's messed up. But Wilbur is also messed up, almost beyond repair. Almost.

''Yeah'' Wilbur mumbled, pushing his head back into his pillow, trying to get back that comfort he was now after changing his posittion. The door slowly opened and he could hear Phil walk in and felt the mattress move slightly as Phil sat down.

''Are you feeling better after last night?'' Phil asked, taking his hand to feel Wilbur's temperature only to note it was probably higher than the average. Wilbur groaned a bit, turning again before giving a weak response.

''Eh'' Phil chuckled slightly, ruffling the boy's hair. Wilbur wanted to scream.

''We could take your temperature?'' Phil suggested. Wilbur shrugged.

''No thanks, I think I'll be fine'' He mumbled, staring at the wall behind Phil, quietly refusing to let himself look Phil in the eyes.

Although he couldn't just tell Phil to stop acting like he had done before, could he? Wilbur didn't want to anyways. His pretend father could continue to pretend he didn't kill his actual father. Nothing wrong with that, in Wilbur's eyes at least. Maybe it was a little wrong and Wilbur was living in denial. At least Wilbur was doing a good job at that, the living in denial part.

''Do you want to come down and eat something?'' Phil asked. Wilbur pulled himself to a seating position, rubbing his eye with his hand before staring at Phil.

''Yeah'' he mumbled. Phil nodded and got out of the room to give the boy some privacy.

Wilbur got out of bed, his legs shaking lightly. He moved over to his closet, pulling out some baggy black jeans and a white t-shirt. He slowly put it on and grabbed a flannel before leaving his room to fix his face in the bathroom mirror. He pulled his hand through his hair and stared at himself for a minute.

There he stood, the guy who tried to kill his own brother. Wilbur wanted to throw up again, but managed to stop himself from doing so. He heard Tommy talk to someone in his room, Wilbur assumed it was Techno. Wilbur would've joined them, if he hadn't tried to kill Tommy a day earlier. What day was it anyway? It felt like it happened just minutes ago, when he stabbed that knife into the kid's chest.Holding back hadn't even been on his mind.