𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐫 - 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬

Wilbur ♪whatever♪

Its been about an hour or two since tommy left. And im tired as fuck. I stretch my arms above my head and let out a tired yawn. I grab my phone and check the time, 7:13. Tom left at about 4:45-5:30am-ish.

Half of me is worried if he got caught, or if he was just so tired he passed out the minute he laid on his bed. I guess time will tell. I stand up and head to my room. I throw away some trash around my room and plug up my phone.

After I check some messages I head to my closet. I pull my smelly sweater over my head and toss it towards a basket of clothes, missing. Of course. I put on a oversized shirt with music signs scattered across it. Im already wearing sweatpants so i guess this'll be fine for sleeping.

I get onto my bed and roll on my back, pulling my blue feathery blanket ontop of me. I sigh, feeling a sudden swarm of calmness wash over me. I vividly recall moments whenever tom was over last night, or a few hours ago. Those waffles, come to think of it, tasted a bit sour.

The memory of the taste makes my mouth water. I swallow, and dismiss the thought. Thinking of other things that'd let me drift off into a dream.

-

My eyes feel heavy, as i stretch my arms in whatever direction they're going. I yawn somewhat loudly, and begin to open my eyes. The bright mid-day sunshine blaring through my windows makes my eyes ache. I sit up slowly and rub my eyes, soon they adjust to the light.

I gather my thoughts. one of them sticks out, and leaves me with a wave of curiosity. did Tommy ever get caught? I ask myself for a few moments. Surely he's texted me, or tweeted. or whatever else. Right?

I grip my phone and glance at the time, 1pm, and unlock my phone with face id. I open discord. i see messages, but nothing from Tommy. He may be still asleep. I hope thats the case.

I brush it off, for now, and clean myself up with a hot shower and comfy clothes. Throughout the day I try to tired myself out to sleep for the night so i dont fuck up my sleep schedule, and succeed. By 8 something I'm basically exhausted.

I Cleaned, hung out with James and a few others, got some groceries, did work, and other non-important shit. Theres only one more thing to do. I gotta talk to phil.

I settle into my chair, and load up discord onto my pc. I find Phil's name and ask to vc. A few seconds after he responds, saying yes, I ring him and sigh softly.

"hey mate!" phil says. I grins. "hi philll" "anything up? or did you just wanna chat?" I clear my throat. "phil, you know Tom," Phil hums a yes in response. "okay, i need you to promise not to get mad" I add. "what the fuck did you do this time?" phil chuckles.

"So last night at about midnight I was trying to write song lyrics and I couldn't come up with anything so I rung tommy asking if he could come over but he couldn't because of you know, his strict ass parents, or whatever. but I convinced them and he was able to sneak out with my genius help and he left it about four something AM. And I haven't heard any kind of update from him and he hasn't been active on any kind of social media yet. so I'm starting to think that he got caught and that he's now, possibly, dead." I add a bit of sarcasm to the last bit.

I take a big breath, exhaling slowly. Phil stays silent. "you. did. what." phil says, sounding somewhat serious but adding a small, barely audible chuckle. "it wasn't my fault!" I protest, lying. Phil scoffs. "Wilbur, his parents literally put a tracker on his ankle whenever he was 15 for filming a video without permission for a week as punishment. You dont test luck, or..." Phil stops for a few beats. "you dont fuck with them, their nuts!"

"oh, yeah. forgot about that incident." I say. Hm. "bail him out?" I say without thinking. "Wilbur have you been drinking? your acting weirdly stupid. No offense" "no." i respond, truthfully.

I got the drinking influence poured onto me whenever I was younger by my dad. At about 12, whenever my dad came back after he left when I was 8, he became sort of a heavy drinker and drug user. On no telling what day he'd come home drunk or high. more so drunk.

He'd let me have sips of his beer every so often and whenever he got high, which wasn't that much, he'd always buy me stuff if we ever went out. which is one of the many reasons i preferred him more over my mum. not to mention the days after school he'd let me play his electric guitar. God, fun times.

I hear phil clear his throat and i lean back in my chair. "has he ever talked his way out of shit?" I ask. He's not so much of the best person when it comes up to lying or making up stories on the spot without any warning. at least that's what I've seen. and heard.

"couldn't tell ya," Phil says. "maybe, though. no telling what he could do. who knows, he might be able to come up with a fake, believable, excuse any day of the week" I let out a small hum in response. "maybe" I mumble.

"you know his parents personally?" I ask. "nope. Tommy's never really opened up to me about any of his personal life involving his parents either. seems like he's, i dunno, scared about letting anyone find out." I raise my eyebrows. "I never thought about it like that." I whisper out loud accidentally.

"yeah" Phil agrees. The call is silent for what feels like forever. I yawn quietly, "well, whatever happened, he's probably not dead. And im tired, we can get updated in the morning. or, yeah" I add a small chuckle.

"well, goodnight wil. Have a good sleep!" "you too" I say and leave the call. I wasn't thinking of leaving just yet, but i guess phil might be. or thought i was. its whatever.

I open Spotify and play some music, answer dms and scroll through twitter. Nothing that seems interesting, and nothing from tom.

I turn off my pc and stand up, stretching my arms above my head. I put on a random shirt that seems like 2 sizes big for me and some black sweat pants witn white dots scattered around like paint at the bottom.

I crawl into my bed and get comfortable. I yawn, and press my head against another pillow. I turn off my lamp and eventually drift off into peaceful slumber.

I replay me and Phil's conversation trying to fall asleep. I hum softly, responding to whatever im thinking accidentally. A hum that hints confusion, and leaves me with questions.

"Tommy's never really opened up to me about any of his personal life involving his parents either. seems like he's, i dunno, scared about letting anyone find out."

Scared?