two weeks

Let us fix you

Wilbur was practically bursting with excitement, he was finally out of hospital today! After 3 long, gruelling weeks, it was finally over. He had to admit, he was slightly anxious to go back to work for that final 2 weeks after that... strongly worded email he had gotten from Clay as a reply. He sat quietly waiting in the waiting room for Phil to bring him home. Puffy had told him he wasn't recovered enough to drive. As he waited, he noticed himself beginning to shake. Things felt like they were closing in, everything was spinning. Why was his throat closing up? Why is everyone looking at him? ᴛʜᴇʏ'ʀᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʜᴀᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ʙᴜᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ᴜꜱ ꜰɪx ʏᴏᴜ. He put his head down and tried to focus on breathing. A woman sitting beside him noticed his panic. "Hey, you doing alright there?" She asked. Wilbur lifted his head weakly and tried to respond, but ended up just letting out an awkward squeak. He cringed at himself and panicked more. She's going to think I'm a freak. He tried to hold his leg down as it began to bounce up and down. As much as this felt horrible, it was good to be alive. "Hey now, you'll be okay." She tried to soothe him. Wilbur, in-between his panic, noticed she had a very strong accent, and strange eyes. They had an unusual glint, it didn't look right. "Okay, uh, what's your name?" She asked, trying to distract him. "W- Wil. Wilbur." He croaked out. "Cool, my name is Minx." She held out a hand towards him and he grabbed it a bit too tight. "Woah, that's certainly a grip." Wilbur shook his head apologetically and started to fidget with his hands. "S-sorry. I panic a lot for no reason. I'm a bit of a mess." He mumbled. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴍᴇꜱꜱ. ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴇʟᴘ. ᴛʀᴜꜱᴛ ᴜꜱ. She smiled sympathetically, "Hey, I get it. I completely get it, I've been there." A nurse walked out and called her name. She winked, "Nice meeting you, Wilbur. Keep breathing, okay?" Wilbur nodded gratefully as she walked off. Huh. He felt himself begin to calm down. Puffy quietly informed him that Phil was outside and she walked him out. "Stay safe Wilbur, and if ANYTHING is wrong, call us, okay?" Wilbur nodded silently and thanked her. He would not call her.

"Hey son." Phil said as Wilbur carefully got into the car, as to not hit his head. Wilbur cringed slightly at the word son. He just wasn't ready for it, yet. "Hi Da- Phil." Wilbur replied. Phil's eye twitched slightly but he continued. "You need anything mate?" Wilbur noticed that he was still shaking slightly, but not from panic. "I feel like I need to run a fucking mile. I haven't done anything in almost 3 weeks." Phil smiled, "I'm sure Tommy would gladly cause some chaos with you."

"You're endorsing the chaos?" Wilbur asked with a borderline manic smile on his face. Phil sighed.

"Go wild, kid."

"I am 24 years old Phil."

"Tell that to your brain." Phil replied as Wilbur laughed.

Tommy and Wilbur sat over a small table, plotting. Wilbur sat, quietly thinking while clicking a pen idly. Tommy frowned, "I wanna do something dangerous." Wilbur's eyes lit up. Phil was here now, he didn't have to be responsible anymore. He would rebel. He would enjoy his lost youth. He smiled maniacally. Tommy tilted his head. "I know that face. What have you come up with, Wil?" Wilbur smiled quietly, waiting a moment for suspense. He was a theatre kid, after all.

"What do you know about TNT, Tommy?" He felt his heart beat with joy at the mention of that glorious explosive. He felt alive.

Tommy turned his head quicker than you could say "WHAT?" Which Tommy did, in fact, shout at his brother. "Oh Wil, we can't do that. That's too dangerous." Wilbur smiled. "You wanted danger. I shall deliver." He lifted up his arms towards the garden. "Get me some sand." Tommy tried to protest but a simple glare from Wilbur was enough for him to start collecting. "I need stacks." He demanded. Any person who knew the old Wilbur would be worrying, but Tommy didn't know any better. Wilbur was relapsing into his old self, and all it took was a glimpse of chaos, and weeks inside. He smiled quietly to himself. He felt different all of a sudden, powerful. This wasn't the same, panicky Wilbur they knew. And to Wilbur, this was progress.

Wilbur was wrong.

"Tommy? What are you doing?" Phil asked Tommy as he watched his son pile up sand in the garden. "Oh.. uh- Nothing, Wil and I were just- Nothing." Phil raised an eyebrow. "I'll ask Wilbur." He said, walking back inside. Tommy's eye twitched and he continued to pile up sand.

Wilbur was sitting in his room, clicking a pen and looking at a small blueprint. He immediately jumped when Phil entered and covered the blueprint with his arms, trying to seem nonchalant. "Wilbur, whatever you're doing, stop. It's not looking good, and I'm going to need to you stop." Wilbur smiled casually, still trying to pretend his wide armed stance is a choice, and not a weak cover-up. "I don't know what you're talking about." He replied, looking Phil dead in the eyes. Phil sighed, and started walking towards whatever Wilbur was hiding, which immediately put Wilbur into action. "OKAY. Okay. I'll stop. Just, don't look at it." Phil looked at his eldest son with slight concern, and left the room. Wilbur sighed in relief and put his blueprint away. He cackled quietly to himself, no one was ready for this. As Wilbur walked back downstairs, he felt a familiar breeze across his face, and heard a disappointed sigh. Wilbur scowled, "You don't get it, Mum."

Tommy came back inside, looking completely exhausted. A week ago, Wilbur would have been fussing over his poor baby brother. But now? He was too blinded by his own 'ingenious' idea to even care. He looked at Tommy expectantly, "Well?" Tommy sighed. "11 and a half stacks." Wilbur clapped quietly and ruffled Tommy's hair, but it didn't feel affectionate anymore. It felt like an obligation. Tommy felt... cold.

"Hey Wilbur?"

"What?"

"Do you- do you want to watch a movie with me and Phil later?"

"I don't have time, I have too much to plan."

"You could take a break?" Wilbur sighed heavily, and Tommy flinched slightly.

"Look Tommy, just drop it." He got up and left the room, slamming the door behind him. Phil entered the room soon after, he looked worried. "This is reminding me too much of the old Wilbur." He bit his lip. Tommy tilted his head in confusion. "What was the old Wilbur like? I- I can't remember.."

"He had... voices. They would tell him what to do. He would act on impulse, it always ended in shambles. I thought he was better, I thought-" Phil sighed.

Wilbur sat, laughing quietly to himself as he watched the small redstone circuit he had set up begin to set off a small firework in a jar. He watched it explode within the jar. He imagined the firework to be his spirit. So untame, so wild. And yet, trapped. Wilbur refused to stay trapped. He wouldn't.

He felt alive.