Home - Wilbur soot angst

Part 6

Admittedly, Phil didn't think that morning would be quiet as it had been.

The trip from the previous day had worn Phil out. From having to chase after Tommy with his injured wings to having to do so much extra work to reach the apples on the suddenly now too high trees, the man was exhausted.

He had been lying in bed just a bit too long. His hands thumbed over the cuffs of his shorts, staring at the blank white ceiling above him. A part of him wanted to continue laying there, believing the cushion and softness of the sheets and blankets could protect him from what he'd have to do today. Denying what was to come wouldn't do him any good, he knew. It was inevitable and a growing hatred for this want to not care was festering.

What was said wasn't right by any means. It was straight out fucking awful.

Telling your son "Maybe you're right" just after he said he should have died ages ago was incomprehensibly stupid of him.

That same part of him, the one that wanted to neglect the situation, came to mind again. He didn't mean it, he swore he didn't mean it. Doubt arises in everyone, right? There have been moments where others have felt the pull to acknowledge something they knew was never true, to begin with. Intrusive thoughts, was that what they were? He couldn't quite place his tongue on it and released another sigh of confusion, not the first but definitely not the last.

Phil knew that he loved Wilbur, that would never change. No matter what argument.

He loved how Wilbur had the bravery to constantly pursue music as his main interest, even if it wasn't something Phil was accustomed to.

He admired just how talented his boy was, learning several instruments even if he had always been seen with his trusted guitar. That guitar that was a gift from the past, no doubt now only becoming a reminder of a better time for them both.

He found it endearing how he tried for his father and his brothers. How Wilbur attended training sessions even if he'd rather be anywhere else. How he would develop his own way to fight his brothers who had their own advantages on and off the battlefield. How he'd smile so brightly when he would land a hit on his older brother or successfully outmaneuvered the younger. He'd always stay behind to help clean up his sibling's wounds that came from either their own swords or ones from different foes.

He loved how Will cared. One of the things that had stayed consistent was just how Wilbur communicated with them all. A master of words his middle could be when he put the effort in but most of the time, he just didn't. It could be frustrating at times, he couldn't deny it. Will wasn't one to outright say he was hurting. At the same time though, Wilbur could communicate just fine. Small notions of appreciation could be seen here or there. Phil would wake up to breakfast tea with food, something simple yet greatly appreciated. Tommy would wake up with a new disc every once in a while, each one with a different melody than the last. And Techno could wake up with new pieces of jewelry, something the piglin-hybrid had a secret fascination with. He wondered when was the last time they had done the same.

He could be so vocal sometimes but at the same time, he just wouldn't be. Phil supposed that it didn't matter though.

The thing he had been proudest of, being a father to three amazing sons, had slowly become warped. The second simply faded out of view and it was no one's fault but Phil's. And that, the suffocated the man's lungs more than any crashing wave could. Phil owed it to Wilbur to make up for the mistakes he's made up until now.

Let his feelings be damned. He wasn't doing this for himself, he was doing this for Wilbur.

Phil shuffled out of bed, carefully moving to stabilize his wings, sparing them from any further aching. They had been recovering nicely, sure, but it would take a few more days until they were ready for action. The old bandages began to unwind themselves, slipping off before being replaced with new ones. A glance at the clock told Phil that it was way later than it thought it would be. This better not become a habit of his, the boys do enough of that as it is.