Mania (WilburSoot Angst)

Part 7

TWs
Alcohol
Apathy
Flinching
GAYS (/j)
Medication
Schizophrenia
Smoking
Strong Language

(1015 words)

Wilbur POV
I walked down the stairs and into the kitchen to grab something to drink. Everything was slowly going back to normal ever since that conversation with Niki. Sometimes I would not take my medication, but I would control the things that I did and not scare anyone or myself. I still hadn't been eating that much, I have only been having one meal a day and just a glass of water. People have started to notice, but I tell them that I'm fine.

I open the fridge to find many different kinds of drinks. I grabbed a Corona Light from the door and took the cap off with an opener.

"Are you drinking?" Phil asked from the couch.

"Yeah, why?"

"I thought you stopped. And you can't have alcohol mixed with your meds." He told me as he stood up.

"Why?" I kept asking.

"Dude, you'll get hammered immediately, you'll get tired, it can have severe raspatory effects, you'll get drowsy and fall and shit." He told me.

"It's just one beer." I smiled. "I haven't had one in a while. And I'm just gonna be sitting outside, I'll be fine, mate."

Phil eventually let his guard down and continued to sit on the couch. I walked out of the back door and sat down in the backyard on a bench.

I didn't know how the rest of my time here would go. Because eventually I will have another manic episode, and everyone will find out what is wrong with me. What if they judge me for it? No, they wouldn't, they are my friends.

Phil sometimes treats me like a child, like his child. I don't know whether to find it annoying or I should be grateful for what he is doing. I know he is only trying to make sure I am okay, but I can do that myself.

I hear people online say that schizophrenics are crazy. Am I crazy? I like to think that I am not.

Suddenly, I felt someone place their hand on my shoulder, causing me to flinch and slightly shriek.

"Jesus, sorry man, didn't mean to scare ya." Schlatt spoke as he sat down beside me with a bottle of beer in his right hand, and a cigarette in the other.

"It's alright." I sighed.

"You okay?" He asked.

I nodded, but I wanted to say no.

"...Are you really?" He spoke. It was like butterflies suddenly appeared in my stomach. It felt weird opening up to Schlatt. He seems like the kind of man who wouldn't take anything seriously.

"Why am I like this?" I asked as I rubbed my hand in my face.

"Don't do that to yourself man, asking that will only make things worse."

But I ask myself that question every day, and I wish that I could get an answer.

"Things will get better." He told me as he placed his hand on my shoulder.

"But what if it doesn't? What if I stay like this for the rest of my life? Taking meds, being paranoid, sleeping all day, not being able to drink more than one God damn bottle of beer?"

"Have you ever thought of going to therapy?" He asked.

"I can never talk to a therapist."

"Well then who do you talk to when you feel like shit?" He asked as he took a puff, then offered me one. I knew I shouldn't smoke on my meds, but I did not give a fuck anymore. I took a puff, and then handed it back to Schlatt, going back and forth.

I didn't know how to answer his question. I never really did talk to anyone when I felt depressed or scared. I know that five days ago I broke down crying in Niki's arms, but other than that, I never really would open up about what I am going through to anyone.

"Nobody." I told him, taking a sip of my drink.

"Why?" He asked. At this point I felt like I was talking to a real therapist, except this therapist actually cared about what I had to say.

"I don't want people to worry about me more than they worry about themselves. I don't want people to treat me like I am ten instead of twenty, no matter how bad it gets. And whenever I talk to someone about how I am actually feeling, I just feel guilty, like I want all the attention on me, when that really isn't the case." I told him.

"If you ever open up to me Wil, I'll treat you like the man you are. You aren't a teenager, you are twenty, and you should be treated like one. But that doesn't mean that people shouldn't worry about you. I worry for you Wilbur, and I know that probably isn't what you want to hear, but you need to hear it. I don't know shit about schizophrenia, but I know that it is something that needs care. And I'm not saying you should go sign up for therapy, but I'm saying that you can talk to me and the rest of the people in the house." He spoke as he looked into the distance.

I don't know why, but I felt so moved. I have never felt so cared for in a long time. I never thought someone like Schlatt could come up with something so meaningful like that and actually say it to someone, especially me. I wasn't sure what to say.

I leaned over and hugged him as a tear fell down my cheek. He rubbed my back with his left hand as the other brushed through my hair.

I felt so safe.

THEY ARE SO GAY FOR EACH OTHER (cries happily)

Dude my friend tried stealing my laptop and saw what I was writing and he was like "girl wtf" dude it was so embarrassing help

BUT TYSM FOR 6 READS (I know that is nothing but I published every chapter five hours ago)