||Discontinued|| Starlights (REWRITE)

Chapter 6

Warnings: Mentions of abuse

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Wilbur closed the door behind him, kicking his boots off by the front entrance, an annoyed look on his face. He couldn't shake off a sense of guilt that coursed through the back of his throat down to form an unsettled pit of queasiness in his stomach.

Because of their idiotic selves, Schlatt was undoubtedly in trouble, and Wilbur was left with a nagging guilt that seemed to haunt him relentlessly, a familiar refrain that continuously whispered. It's your fault, Wilbur. It's always your fault.

And ugh, he hadn't even eaten yet.

Wilbur wasn't that hungry anyways, but he couldn't tell if it was genuine, or if he just lost his appetite to his damn anxiety.

He didn't really need Phil looming over him like a mother hen. He figured that he'd at least eat something and get it out of the way.

"Dad, I'm home," Wilbur dragged out with a long sigh.

As he made his way further into his home, the comforting sounds of Phil's voice drifted from the kitchen. "Hi Wil, did you eat yet?"

"Nope," Wilbur popped the 'p' and slumped into the couch, closing his eyes.

Phil sat down next to Wilbur, a soft look on his face. "What happened? I get that his parents had shown up, but why did you have to leave?"

"I don't think they really like me," Wilbur shrugged.

The blonde settled closer, brows furrowed with concern. "What happened, Wil? You don't look okay."

Wilbur sighed, trying to gather his thoughts. "I... I'm not entirely sure. his parents came home and saw us sleeping on the couch, and I'm guessing that it looked like some homo shit because they said that I was 'one of them' and then woke me up to kick me out," Wilbur's voice quivered as he spoke.

"They did what?" Phil's eyes widened in disbelief and anger.

Ah shit, Dadza's gonna craft a belt.

"I—" Wilbur began, but was interrupted by Phil's insistent request.

"Start from the beginning. Why were you guys sleeping on the couch, and was there anything that might have given them the wrong impression?"

"Well, I mean... We had been in the pool,"

Phil raised a questioning eyebrow. "Wilbur, it's like ten degrees Celsius outside. Why on earth were you swimming?"

"I thought it would be funny, and Schlatt had suggested the idea over Snapchat when we were at brunch. He has a heater in his pool, and we weren't in there for that long. Anyways, that's not relevant. We got out of the pool because-" Wilbur paused for a moment, having to think about what he would say that wouldn't outright tell him that he's high. "Because I inhaled pool water and started choking, and Schlatt hadn't gotten any sleep, so we slept on the couch in our swim trousers," Wilbur spoke, as if in one breath, hoping that Phil wouldn't question the pause.

A faint chuckle escaped Phil's lips as he noted Wilbur's attire. "Is that why you're wearing a flannel with no shirt underneath?"

Wilbur glanced down at himself, realization dawning. "Oh shit, am I?" He had completely forgotten about his missing T-shirt, probably left on Schlatt's back patio. How had he not noticed?

"It's not your fault then, you didn't do anything wrong, you were just trying to be there for Schlatt, I take it."

Wilbur nodded, though his distress was palpable. "Yeah, I was, but I'm... I'm really worried, Dad. His parents were furious, and even though they tried to hide it, I could still see their anger. I know how they can be, and they even said something like, 'Don't do it in front of him; we don't need his parents or the school involved.' Or something along those lines." As Wilbur spoke, his anxiety escalated, and he began hyperventilating, clutching his chest in a panic.