MCYT angst oneshots

Forgetting

Wilbur
- dissociation
- amnesia
- panic attack (I think?)

(Shorter one)

Wilbur shook his head in an attempt to stay grounded. People were walking past him along the busy street, some shooting him dirty looks as it became harder for him to keep up the pace.

Fuck...

Wilbur stopped fighting the fog, instead letting it consume him. He deserved to rest, right? He was so, so tired...

•••

Wilbur came to in front of his computer screen, which he had apparently been using to stream. Everything seemed normal. He chuckled, watching messages fly through chat. It was so funny how he could just put himself on autopilot and nobody would probably ever know.

Maybe it was better this way. Sure, he didn't particularly like missing huge chunks from his memory or waking up with massive headaches for seemingly no reason, but things were so much eaiser this way. He didn't have to think about anything at all. He could just spend his life just going through the motions, not really caring about anything. How nice would it be to just fade away?

"Wilbur? Are you there?" Phil asked.

"Oh- yeah, sorry." Wilbur scratched his neck.

"You're quiet today."

"Am I? I didn't think so."

Wilbur closed his eyes.

•••

Bzzt.

Bzzt.

Bzzt.

Shit, where was he? The last thing he could remember was that stream....

Oh well.

Wilbur turned over his phone just a bit too late, a missed call notification appearing on his screen. Who was calling him?

Where was he?

His head hurt.

Wilbur stood up in search of pain relief. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and shuddered.

"Is that... me?" He whispered, bringing a hand up to his cheek to watch his reflection copy him. He flinched. No, that can't be him. He doesn't look like that, he- He was- wait... what was he? He couldn't remember.

Wilbur sighed and grabbed the container that was resting on the counter. He slipped a few small pills out and swallowed them dry. This was a small price to pay to avoid the pain that came with being in the real world. He could handle a little confusion if it meant he'd never be hurt again...

But was this just a little confusion?

He couldn't remember anything.

Where was he?

Who was he?

What is this?

The bottle in his hand fell to the ground. He reached the now empty hand up to take it through his hair. It was shaking. He was shaking.

Was he?

Wilbur went back into the other, unrecognizable room.

Was this his house?

Where was he?

He picked up his discarded phone and clicked the missed call. His phone rang.

"Big W! Where have you been?" An unfamiliar voice practically screamed.

"Who are you?" Wilbur hadn't expected his voice to come out so weak.

"Are you okay, Wilbur?" The voice sounded concerned.

"How did you know my name?"

"Wil, it's me, Tommy. You know me, right?"

"I- I don't know..."

"What's going on...? Where are you?"

"I don't know!" Tears streamed down his face. He tasted the salt on his tongue.

"Okay Wil just... just stay calm! Okay? I'm gonna... I'll call Phil."

Another person was added to the call within a few moments.

"Tommy?" 'Phil' asked.

"Hey Phil, um- Wilbur needs help." 'Tommy' replied, voice shaky and unsure.

"Wilbur?"

"Who are you?!" Wilbur demanded, the confusion changing into anger. 'Phil' hesitated.

"...It's me, Phil. We're... good friends."

"Don't lie to me! I don't know you!"

"Wilbur, please calm down. Where are you?"

"I TOLD YOU, I DON'T KNOW!"

Wilbur threw his phone across the room screaming. They were lying. They were LYING.

What was happening...?

Wilbur collapsed onto the ground, pulling his knees up to his chest as he sobbed.

Who was he?

Where was he?

He didn't know.

He didn't know...

He didn't.