Escape - Wilbur angst

Chapter 13 - Uh oh

I present to you.... ANGST! I like to see him suffer.

TWs

ED, PTSD

PLEASE

Please do know that your worth is not determined by your weight or looks. I love every one of you. Please eat and drink, go grab a snack <3

Wilbur woke up and looked around. He frowned when he saw that Phil wasn't there but quickly calmed due to noise downstairs. It consisted of muffeled voices and laughs, but also of pans and pots being moved around. 

He considered going downstairs, but he didn't want to ruin their time together, Wilbur felt greedy since he had been stealing Phil all day.

He also didn't want to be near the food. Ever since the meeting with his father in court he had slipped back into his old eating habits. When he sat in that chair, looking over at his father he noticed him looking his son up and down before pulling a face of pure disgust.

After that night's events he had gone back up to 'sleep' only to enter the bathroom where he checked himself out. He looked disgusting, fat and unloveable. The words scarring his body being a constant reminder of that.

He refused to eat, in one way or another. One morning he 'slept in' and this morning he 'wasn't hungry because of nerves' - which was partially true. And the times where he couldn't lie he simply refused to eat.

Phil and Techno had obviously caught onto this. It wasn't like Wilbur tried to hide it anyway. The thought of eating made his anxiety skyrocket, and he pulled himself together as he rocked back and forth.

He closed his eyes trying to think about anything else. His mind went to his old guitar. Oh how he missed it. His father had bought it for him at 10-years-old to keep him out of his sight, but after two years realised how annoying he found it.

Wilbur ended up with a crushed guitar and severe bruises all over his upper body. It was a nice guitar, he had called it Sally. It had quickly became his best friend and when he played all the bad around him disappeared. It was only him and his music.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a knock on his door. He fliched lightly, and the door opened. In entered Phil. "Wilbur, mate? Dinner is ready." he spoke softly, a smile on his face. The younger nodded in response and shakily followed him downstairs.

On the table stood one singular bowl with what looked like chicken pasta salad. Apart from the two obvious ingredients there was lettuce, tomatoes, mushrooms, feta and onion. A bottle of dressing had been placed beside it.

The two sat down as Phil and Techno began putting food on their plates. Wilbur didn't even look at it, he just laid his head in his arms on the table and closed his eyes. 

Phil and Techno glanced at eachother, both concerned for the boy. "Wilbur?" Phil began softly. Wilbur didn't respond. "Could you please try a little bit? Maybe just a few pieces of lettuce and mushroom?"

The other just shook his head. Phil didn't know how to help his boy and it pained him. 

Phil sighed in defeat and stood up. He walked over to the counter and grabbed an apple. Unbeknownst to him when he pulled out a knife Wilbur whipped his head up.

The older turned around, he couldn't make Wilbur eat real food, but maybe if he got to size his own portion of an apple it would be fine. But this caused Wilbur to panic. All he could think off was his father with the pocketknife grinning as he prepared to cut Wilbur.

"Dad!" Techno suddenly yelled. Phil stopped in his tracks to look at his son. "Maybe leave the knife and cutting at the counter." he finished off, his words being hissed out.

Phil looked confused for a second before turning to a crying Wilbur, staring up at him in terror. The olders eyes widened. "Oh. Oh god. Wilbur I am so sorry, I didn't think. I'm gonna put the knife down here, alright? And then I'm gonna walk over to you and sit down beside you. Nothing else."

And he did exactly just that. Wilbur stayed in his chair but kept his distance. 

He was supposed to be safe. This house was supposed to heal him. So why couldn't he just act normal?

"Wilbur? Mate?" Phil tried, earning nothing but a flinch. Both him and Techno felt hopeless. They didn't exactly know how to help him and neither did Wilbur.

They wouldn't get an answer out of Wilbur, that was clear. "Could you communicate through numbers? I think you'll understand. Would you want to talk about it or calm down first?" Wilbur slowly brought up two fingers. "Good job mate! Now, would you want to stay here with us and maybe try to eat the apple or go upstairs?" 

Wilbur thought for a moment. He didn't want to be alone, he didn't trust his thoughts, but he also didn't want to eat. He put up one finger causing a smile to form on Phil's face.

He stood up and went to cut the apple, placing them on a plate before delivering them to Wilbur. He then sat back down by his own plate continuing to eat his food. 

Wilbur poked at one of the slices, clenching his jaw at the feeling of disgust it brought. He pushed the plate away from him, it's presence being enough to make him want to die.

Phil looked over at him, sadness written all over his face. He thought Wilbur wouldn't notice, but nothing goes past that kid. He looked back up making eye-contact for a split second before Phil looked down at his plate again.

YET ANOTHER ONE FINISHED BOYS, WHAT ARE WE THINKING?

- Bread