Starlights ||Schlattbur||

30: Thursday, Part 3

Warnings: suicidal ideation, Heavy talk of suicide, vomiting, accidental self-harm(?)
-------------------

Various cars went by, most differed by color and brand, but all emitted the same fumes that made Wilbur want to throw up. It’s not that he hates the smell, it’s just too much all at once. He’s on a bridge by the busiest street in his city. (It wasn’t really a city, there weren’t any real tall buildings, but it was too populated to be a town.) But for being the busiest street his ‘town’ had to offer, Wilbur was concerned at the lack of honking or slowing cars. Not that he wanted to create a scene of course, but if he saw someone sitting at the edge of a bridge alone, he’d at least stop and check on said person. He would rather assume the worst and be wrong than ignore the worst possibility and keep going, and then be right about it.

…

That’s exactly what happened with Dream though.

Wilbur even thought of what the worst thing could be, which was Dream trying to off himself, and even worse, succeeding. Thankfully, Dream didn’t succeed in his attempt as far as Wilbur knew, but Wilbur felt that he was to blame for not trying to talk to dream when he noticed the self-inflicted injuries.

Wilbur let out a shaky breath, and with a groan, pinched his arm. The feeling of his skin being compressed, stretching the muscles in an uncomfortable way helped ground him. He needed to calm down. An irrational brain leads to impulsive decisions, he decided. Pinching his arm was probably irrational compared to other grounding mechanisms, but it was better than…

Well, better than anything that could leave him in a life-threatening situation.

He had experienced that irrationality the night before, starting immediately with that phone call with Toby. He had to end his hangout session with Sally early, and he was forced to call Techno, who, thankfully, drove him to the hospital to check on the love of his- His crush…

But following that, he freaked out and confessed to the older teen, the rational side of his told him that the doctors had already estimated a full recovery within about three months and that Schlatt’s accident hadn’t had even a high mortality rate to begin with. The worst theing literally would’ve been emotional scarring and Schlatt would be back in school on Monday. (Well, if it weren’t for Winter break starting Monday)

Why was that so hard to think about at the time?

Well, it’s because the irrational side of his brain telling him that he may never have another chance, that Schlatt would probably fucking die right there on the hospital again.

That thought alone had sent Wilbur into a panic, and he should’ve found a more appropriate time to confess, but the thought of never being able to hear Schlatt’s laughing voice again, or his mockery towards Wil’s british accent on certain words, or hell, the thought of never seeing him smile crushed Wilbur. 

So, not thinking rationally, he confessed. They kissed. Wilbur realized the inappropriateness and clicheness of the situation.

The teen was still in disbelief of the fact that he had confessed, and honestly, it felt like he had a weird twisted lucid dream.

Wilbur remembered that he was on the edge of a bridge when the wind blowing through his hair threatened to blow off his beanie. He grabbed the maroon cloth with his non-dominant hand, pulling it down over his ears. He stared at the river, it was a long one, probably half a mile wide and oh so very long, the rushing river splashing against the sides of the land and bouncing over rocks. Wilbur jumped and lost his balance for a split second as he heard the loud roar of a motorcycle pass behind him. He panicked and gripped the bars tight (forget the hat, his life is more important), practically feeling the blood drain from his knuckles as he held on. He inhaled sharply, the taste of death on his tongue being unpleasant. Wilbur stabled himself and pulled his earbuds out of his pocket. He took one out, shoved it in his ear, and shoved the case back into the depths of his pants pocket, making sure that there was next to no chance of them falling out of his pocket. He then pulled his phone out, turned the Bluetooth on, and shuffled his favorite Spotify playlist. He shoved his phone back into his pocket, readjusting it so that his phone wouldn’t fall to its doom.