Killjoy // WILBUR SOOT ANGST

tir

Wilbur slammed the door behind him, kicking his shoes off and crossing his arms with a heavy sigh as he leant against the door.

The sudden sounds and movement gained Phils and Technos attention from where they were sat on the sofa watching some sort of documentary on the cube TV, but one look at the boys demeanour had Phil flicking it off.

Techno watched the different emotions close to hope, worry and desperation flicker behind blue eyes like the static of a TV screen, and he silently removed himself from the situation knowing this was more a heart-to-heart situation. He stood with a silent reassuring glance towards the blond before deciding to go and check on Tommy who was playing in his own room.

"Bad day?" Phil guessed, unsure of how to deal with a boy who showed no interest in him. He understood it though, as much as it pained him, he would do good to remember that he was not the boys father and simply a loving relative providing him with basic necessities, but care and patience also fell into that list. And maybe Wilbur would do good to remember that too, Phil thought silently.

Wilbur looked over at the slumped figure on the sofa, and Phil held his breath as the teenagers sour expression seemed to turn into a crestfallen look, but all it took was a simple blink and Phil was suddenly staring at a cold look of apathy.

He watched brown eyes flicker between him and the hall leading to the bedrooms, before down at the floorboards that creaked as the boy shuffled his weight from foot to foot.

"Did you go into--" Wilbur paused, "the room?"

Phil couldn't help put pick on the way the teenager had an ominous air about him as he asked, but he put the suspicion aside to make room for his more prominent confusion.

"The room?" He echoed, tilting his head and furrowing his eyebrows together.

"That I sleep in."

"You don't need to call it the room, mate. It's yours-"

"-While I'm here." Wilbur interjected, looking anywhere but at Phil.

"Yeah." Phil swallowed the stone in his throat, glad that Wilbur had been the one to avoid eye-contact. "But while you're here, it's your room. And I didn't go into it, no, I wouldn't invade your privacy unless I had reasons to believe you were in some sort of danger, mate."

Wilburs shoulders untensed slightly at that.

"Do you want to talk about anything?" Phil offered, his tone soft and curious. Barely covering up the hope beneath his words and pushing his suspicion at Wilburs reaction away for a later date.

Wilburs mouth fell open into an angry smile of disbelief. "Really?!" He gaped with a quiet scoff. "Talk about what? That I have nobody? That my own dad gives no shits, and my mum is in some facility because she didn't care either?!"

He chuckled darkly before Phil could even process anything he had said. "Oh wait. No, she did care. Didn't she? Just not about me. Nobody fucking does, Phil!"

Before Phil could even respond, a distant door slammed shut and it took him a minute to realise that Wilbur had left the room. Leaving a hanging feeling of failure over Phils shoulders that threatened to wrap around his neck and suffocate him.

///

The table was completely silent.

It was an odd occurrence in the house where Tommy was always voicing his thoughts as they entered his brain, regardless of who was or wasn't listening. Wilbur swore he had heard the small boy talking to himself on a few occasions - but it was none of his business. He didn't care about a toddler who got to have the childhood he only dreamed of, and he didn't care about Phil or Technoblade either. 


The only thing he cared about was his mum and his music, and now he didn't have either.