ephialtes [DREAM SMP ONESHOTS :]

1.5 "I ignore, you hate." (Angstbur)

:; Direct continuation of first chapter. TW: substance abuse/smoking, um pyschologist ?? and mentions of sex *gAsP* . This half is really shit so you can read the first part as the end

Also apologies this is so fcking clunky I lost motivation.

And happy ending :)

Wilbur was sitting straight in his chair, expression blank, arms folded.

Phil was waiting outside, face grim, worried for his son.

After Wilbur had collected himself and left the bathroom there had been a long talking to. He'd apologised, blood boiling under his skin and wanted to just leave the subject alone and move on.

But Phil wasn't having it. So Will was booked into a counselling session.

His psychologist was nice enough, polite and gentle sounding. She was making a real effort to make Wilbur feel comfortable.

But he knew it was fake - he knew the deliberate colour scheme and consciously uplifting voice were planned to make him spill all his shit. And he didn't want to give in.

But he fucking did, and he hated himself for it.

He told her about his apathy towards most things and the deep waves of sadness and hate that would wash over him unprovoked. About his struggles with all his relationships, feeling as though they barely existed.

Then she asked him questions. About if  he ever felt fidgety or restless. If he no longer enjoyed the things he used to.  If he ever had violent, unwanted thoughts.

He answered yes to almost all.

 After a long time of questions and answers she invited Phil in.

When his dad entered Wilbur zoned out slightly, staring at the wall with a blazing anger, forcing himself to breathe steadily. 

He only managed to get the end of the psychologists speech as she diagnosed him. Apparently he had severe depression and intermittent explosive disorder. 

Basically he was depressed as fuck and had unprovoked rage issues. She prescribed him anti depressants, Alprazolam to calm him and some funny white pills he couldn't remember the name of. 

The car ride home was awkward. Phil apologised half a dozen times for not realising his son was fucked up sooner.

Techno barely reacted, as though not surprised. He'd spent five years on the same anti depressants before he was eventually weened off. 

Little Tommy didn't really know what was going on, he just hugged his brother timidly, as though scared Wilbur would snap.

All the types of drugs Wilbur ended up going on worked beautifully.

And by beautifully, he meant they kept him high. The xanax in the Alprazolam kept him in a constantly drowsy, calm state, floating through life without a care in the world.

But Phil noticed it as well. 

And he wasn't happy with the toll it was taking on his son. So he cut off his xanax supply, getting a prescription for something less strong.

But for six months Wilbur had been taking daily doses. He was fucking addicted and the withdrawal hit him hard. 

The next day at school he was shaking, paranoid and hyper and completely without sleep.

"Shit man, you gotta help me! I'll pay anything!" he'd asked - begged, his friend, J Schlatt.  

The other man was known to be the source of all the shit going around the school - and he knew it was true since he'd seen Schlatt supplying Fitz many times.

As though on cue the blonde Aussie spoke up. "C'mon Schlatt, give the man a blunt and be done with it."

"Yeah, why the fuck not, cunt?" Mason, another permanantly stoned Aussie spoke up with a relaxed grin. Schlatt rolled his eyes. 

"Fuck it, whatever. On the house."

Wilbur grinned, taking the four blunts Schlatt handed him and stuffing them into his coat pocket, lighting one first once he saw no teachers were around.

He stuck the end in his mouth and sucked in, blowing the smoke out again.

Fitz and Mason chuckled. "Not like that dumbass. Hold the smoke in for at least 10 seconds, ay?"

Will nodded and did it again, holding in like the stoner instructed. 

When it hit an hour later Wilbur could tell. It was definitely different to the xanax - he felt even more paranoid. Like the whole class was watching his every move. 

But it was... enjoyable. Happy. And his withdrawal calmed down. 

This time he hid it better.

He kept his blunts and cigs in his bathroom cabinet and bottles of cheap vodka under the bed. He wasted away, not bothering to try to stay calm, coming home at 3 in the morning and driving to school drunk as fuck before it was even 9am. 

He stopped caring entirely what his new family thought.

He'd tried so hard for their love for so long, treasuring what his bio dad had never given him.

Before his entire life had been based around them, helping them, loving them. 

He scoffed at the memory. Why the fuck had he even bothered when it was obvious they didn't care about him from the start. 

He opened the fridge and took a beer out, popping the tab and taking a swig. Phil wasn't home yet, but even if he had been he couldn't have stopped Wilbur. He had no leverage.

Techno was out again and Wilbur was supposed to be looking after Tommy, but he couldn't be fucked. So instead he rang up Sally, asking if she wanted to come over before Phil came home.

When she arrived Tommy greeted her excitedly, asking who she was and why her hair was pink. Poor little Tommy still loved his brother and looked up to him, oblivious as to why he always smelt of smoke. 

Wilbur ignored Tommy, walking into his room with Sally and shutting the door in his brothers face without explanation.

He pulled Sally into a kiss, face emotionless, alcohol prominent in his mouth. She didn't care though, pushing him onto the bed and moving on top of him.

They didn't even try to stay quiet for Tommy's sake.

As soon as Wilbur was eighteen he moved out of home. He didn't even say goodbye, packing up his shit and leaving with Sally.

He continued to do near nothing, caring about nothing, going to his shitty day job merely to buy more drugs.

And that routine didn't change until one day his daughter(later revealed to be his son) was born.

And Wilbur found his heart swelling with love.

Sally didn't stick around long after that, one day just vanishing down the stream with the fish. 

Wilbur realised he'd have to look after his child. Properly. He wanted to be a better dad than he'd had, for his kid to grow up loved. 

So he (mostly) stopped the drugs, and the smoking,  and stopped drinking in the morning. He pulled his shit together and went back to his psychologist for better anti depressants and tips on how to handle himself without drugs.

He spent his whole day working non stop for his son - for his new family of two.

But it was different this time. This time it was a choice everytime, a motive, a need to give his daughter (son) the best life he possibly could. 

CRIIIIINNNNNNGEE

I just want this one to be over it sUCKS SO BAD

unedited because this should DIE