Home - Wilbur soot angst

Chapter 1

On most days if asked about how he was doing, Wilbur would answer with the simplest of answers.

A "Fine!" or two, maybe even an "I'm doing really good!" if he knew he could pull it off.

And for the most part, that fine would be true. It wasn't like he was in any danger really in his life. He didn't have anything to be particularly sad about either. A roof, food, clothes, a guitar, a family, a home. What else could he possibly be displeased with?

Something inside of him begged to differ as he sat there in the dining room, plate barely touched and focus lost within his own mind. It was another family dinner, just as all the other ones were. Sitting around himself was his family, his amazing and wonderful family, that were sucked into conversation. Tommy dominated the conversation, flinging around his fork around animatedly. His latest outing with Technoblade brought on rogue creepers that surrounded them, the two only fending themselves off with only a fishing rod and a pair of sticks. "You guys should have seen the look on Techno's face when my sword broke! He looked like he was about to shit himself!" A boisterous laugh came from the boy before being cut off by a simple "Actually, I recall you screaming like a scared cat. Practically jumped like one too."

The aforementioned pink-haired piglin resided right beside Will in his seat. He adamantly listened to the conversation as he ate, more focused on that than doing anything else. His head poked up once or twice, readjusting the story spilling from Tommy's lips to the exact truth. "Besides, you were the one with all of the iron. There would be no point in letting you explode with everything on you."

"Oi, listen here you pink motherfucker. I'll have you know I am fully capable of handling myself!" The small wings behind Tommy rustled, fluttering a bit as a feather or two dropped to the ground. He stood up, grabbing a knife in one hand and a fork in the other.

"Oh yeah? Let's go outside and see if your bark really has any bite to it." Techno matched Tommy's eagerness as he quickly stood up, hand clasping on the dagger strapped to his belt.

A quick and light-hearted "Boys!" caught their attention as they both went to sit back down. The last of the family, Philza Minecraft himself, chided the boys' behavior at the table. "Show some manners! Tommy, remember to comb through your feathers after dinner. And no playing with utensils as weapons." Phil's head turned to Techno as he continued, "and Techno, I specifically remember saying no weapons at the table. Prime help me if one day you actually go at it. My wings will start going grey."

"Well I wouldn't worry about that Old man, you're on your way there!" "Hey! I'm not even that old Tommy!" "He says that but I heard his joints crack when he bent down to pick up a stray paper the other day followed by a 'Shiiiiit'."

Laughter consumed the table as the three of them talked with one another, easily not noticing the disappearance of the fourth member of the table.

At that point, Wilbur had already made it back to his room. His appetite was lost for the day and his plate was cleared off, placed in the sink for cleaning. Almost as if like it had never been served or partaken from the cupboard. The feeling of suffocation bubbled in his chest as he sat amongst his family. It lingered around in his lungs and throat, quick to make itself known and present with a burning sensation.

His hands shakily made their way as he reached for the musical instrument beside his bed; his guitar. Fingers strummed on a guitar gifted to him years ago by Phil. Random chords flowed from the strings and filled the room. The melody he created served its purpose, the feeling in his chest reducing yet lingering on.

Even when sitting beside them, he felt like a ghost. Always present but never seen, never touched, never spoken to. He never blamed them at all though, why would he? It wasn't like it was ever their fault. They couldn't control who he was.

It was all his fault.

Shaking his head, Wilbur forced himself out of his head and decided to get out. Not just out of the cluster of his thoughts, this room, this house more like it. Their home was quaint; it wasn't grand by any means but there resides history in the walls the four lived in. The guitar laid abandoned on his bed as he slipped his sneakers on. Wilbur grabbed a sweater, a yellow favorite sweater, and quickly and as quietly as he could make his way downstairs. He crept past the empty dining room with ease and a lighter mind. The doors to their rooms were respectively open and closed during his little strumming session, they weren't down there.

Once out the door and house, his legs dashed through the city. The mincecrafts (soots?blades?) were placed on the outskirts of a coastal city, a coastal city by the name of Oslsan. It wasn't as well known as other city but the citizens there never particularly cared. In a small community amongst one another, they found their home. Wilbur navigated the soon to be empty streets as the sun began to set on the city. His feet carried him in thought as he glanced at all of the people: some sat alone, others with their families. Soon enough, he found himself at his destination.

One of the perks of living in the Oslsan was the amazing beach. It was the pride of the city and regularly had people spread out amongst its space. Spread out for miles, the glistening water never failed to bring a smile to Will's face and bring back some warmth in his heart. His legs gave down as he plopped onto the sand, hands burying themselves in it. The warm sand despite its loose nature grounded him. It made him feel a bit more secure than he would have ever expected to be. Odd isn't it?

The sun continued to sit, the last slivers of light being given hitting and illuminating Will's face as he began to hum to himself. It was a faint tune, something similar to what he had strummed moments ago.

Why couldn't it always be like this?

A/N - Please tell me whether I should continue this story or not. please vote and comment. Love you all <3 

Word count - 1069 

EDIT - READING THIS AGAIN.. UGH THE SPELLING AND GRAMMAR.. I RLY NEED TO EDIT IT. WHY DID I WRITE SO WEIDLY..