Frameless Walls // SBI ANGST

1/nameless heads

Tommy could sometimes mistake his ribs for the metal bars of a cage.

He never understood why people mourned their childhood, but perhaps that was because he had nothing to mourn. His childhood was nothing more than blurry memories of silently screaming into his pillow, hot tears being wiped away by the thin fabric of his bedding instead of the loving hand of a parent. Blurry flashes of cameras, the eyes of a thousand strangers watching his every move, nameless heads on frameless walls, crying out for uncaring arms, bruised knees and smashed glasses.

Maybe his first mistake was expecting his parents to love him.

No, a distant yet familiar voice in the back of his mind corrected, your first mistake was being born.

Tommy knew one day he was going to outlive his dad, but he could never outgrow the way his stomach twisted whenever he heard the man's sharp voice in the back of his mind. He could never outgrow the child hidden beneath his cold, metal bars, that still craved his dads approval.

The child that grew up in-front of cameras, who only ever tried to find his dad in the sea of strangers applauding the worlds 'biggest child star'.

What a curse it was, to be the son of a man who never knew how to love. To be a star before a child, to be an actor before yourself.

How could he mourn his childhood when it was never truly his to begin with?

///

Wilbur couldn't stop his foot from tapping against the wooden flooring as his eyes stayed glue to the cacti resting in different plant pots atop the windowsill, he tried to focus on the ticking of the clock hanging on the wall instead, but the repeated notion did nothing to calm his nerves and he could feel his back starting to ache from the uncomfortable chair.

He took a sudden deep breath in before exhaling softly, catching the attention of the two men sitting on either side of him. "You don't have to do this, mate." Phil soothed, placing a reassuring hand on the brunets shoulder. "It's okay."

Techno nodded along with a hum. "Nobodys forcin' you to do this interview an-"

"It's okay." Wilbur cut him off, biting the inside of his cheek before letting himself relax under Phils touch. It was warm, it felt like a steady anchor pulling him out of the rough waves that tried to drag him under.

"It's okay." Wilbur repeated to nobody but himself, his eyes glanced towards the clock before looking down at his hands resting in his lap.

A bitter taste filled his mouth.

Techno and Phil glanced at each-other before the door to the room clicked open, and the trios eyes landed on the interviewer carrying an iPad tucked under his arm.

"Hey, guys. It's so awesome to see you! I used to watch your show all the time during college days." A reminiscent smile tugged at his features before he took the seat in-front of the trio and adjusted his glasses.

Phil smiled politely at the interviewer, and Techno pretended not to notice the way the smile didn't quite reach the blonds eyes. "Thanks, mate. You're very kind."

"Are those cacti real?" Wilbur pondered out-loud.

"Oh- uhm." The interviewers eyebrows drew together as he craned his neck to look behind him at the cacti before back at the musician. "I'm afraid not. I wish they were though. Anyway, my name's Dan and I just have a few questions written out that I'm going to ask you all. At any point, you can refuse to answer or take a break if needed. But first, I've noticed that..." His voice trailed off as he stared at the fourth empty chair.