Here comes the boy || Tubbo x male reader

~14~

TW ||abuse, self harm, suicidal thoughts/attempt||
⚠️⚠️Please stop reading if the topics listed above trigger you. This chapter may not be safe for you to read and I ask you not to take the risk if you think it may be too much. If you do continue reading, I appreciate your continued support.⚠️⚠️
If you guys need me to, I will make a chapter with just help lines/ lifelines for various things, whether it be self harm, suicidal thought, abuse or something else. I'll try to find numbers for the UK and America and if I have any viewers in a different country that would like me to include their country, leave a comment or dm me.

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Y/n POV

     You separated only at the end of the hall to go into our respective rooms. You opened the door, expecting it to be about the same as you had left it. It wasn't. It was a completely different room. The walls had been painted a pale gray color, and the room was almost empty. There was a small mattress on the floor in the corner and a cheap desk in the opposite corner facing the door.

     Once you put your  bags down you walked over to Wilbur's room. It was as if he never left. The room was clean, every surface had been dusted and the floors vacuumed. The posters on the walls had remained and all the little toys and trinkets had stayed in the same spot.

     Wilbur walked down to the dining room with you, walking in first. Our parents had been quietly arguing about something, no surprises there. We all sat down at the table, Wilbur next to you and your mother across from me. There was an uncomfortable silence that sat heavy in the air.

     "Welcome back Wil." Your father had spoken first. They hadn't necessarily treated him well when he was growing up, but he was treated better than you were. He had better grades growing up, and a better tolerance for their shit. Oh, and of course, he wasn't "a fucking faggot". You hated your parents with everything you had.

     You never resented or blamed Wil for being treated better than you, it wasn't his fault. If anything, it was yours, but you knew better than to say that.

     Wilbur's voice broke through your thoughts. "Why'd you make us come here?" His tone was sharp, getting straight to the point. "Don't use that tone with me." Your father pointed a calloused finger at him.

     Your mother placed her hand on his arm, giving him a look that said 'remember what we said' if you hadn't known better, you would say she was trying to tell him not to lose his temper. Luckily you knew better. Your father took a deep breath before continuing as if nothing happened. "Well, as we have not been talking for the last couple years, you don't know this.. but your mother is sick."

     As if on cue your mother coughed quietly. It seemed planned.. fake. You looked over to Wilbur who was leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. He scoffed. "Okay, and what do you want me to do about it?" He said with a tone that was dripping with venom.

     Wrong move..

     It happened so fast that you didn't have a chance to react until after it had happened. Your father stood up quickly and smacked Wilbur across the face. He reached up to touch the red mark already forming before standing up too. He was taller than your father.

     Wilbur grabbed you and pushed you behind him. "Trying to protect the fag are we?" Your mother snarled. "Shut up." Wilbur said. God.. sometimes you wish he kept his mouth shut. Your father tried to hit him again, but this time he backed away before he could connect his hit.