Myct SbI angst + fluff oneshots (read desc)

Fallen petals on an empty page (Angst)

I have 20 minutes to write out this vent, it's gonna fixed up in the morning dw. Think of this messy version like early access. Anyways enjoy the music. It calms me down when I'm sad lol. (It's fixed up now! Feel free to enjoy.)

TWS
💘 if u wanna? But like. This is a vent and I don't wanna trigger u or make u worry lol
SH MENTION
COMMITTING MENTION
REFERENCE TO A FATAL FICTIONAL DISEASE (I don't wanna spoil it)
ART BLOCK
STRESSED OUT BUR
MENTIONS OF CHILD NEGLECT/ABUSE (However u take the 2 hours incident as)
—————————————————————————————————————————-

//Wilbur pov\\

He stared at the empty page. His guitar which was growing dust in the corner of the room. (I'm sorry Onyx.) His floor an absolute mess in which he had no energy to clean. His bed hasn't been made properly in months. Plushies scattered about as it was his only source of human contact. When was the last time he had a hug? He could go for one of those right now

It's summer time. School starting in under 2 weeks, he didn't want to go to his new school. He has no choice. His parents are being kicked out because of some slick thing their slimy landlord pulled. He's gonna have to move far. Very very far. Hopefully he will be able to see his girlfriend.. it's the only stable relationship hes ever had, he can't loose her. His friends are all gonna be left behind, he worry's for them. He's always been their shoulder to lean on (despite not having his own). He doesn't know what to do

Oh is he rambling again? He didn't mean to. It's been a habit recently. It's annoying, he's sorry he'll stop. Anyways back to staring at that blank sheet. The sheet was supposed to be filled with color but he couldn't seem to get his hands to work, he can't get them to make the beautiful shapes they once did. He sighed. He's just not good anymore. The only colorful thoughts filling his head were the ones wishing he would cut himself till he saw red. To ruin 2 years of no harm, to bring more disappointment upon himself. If he ever gave in he doesn't know if he'll stop. Perhaps it'll be done till his vision was blurry, (even though it is without his glasses) till he couldn't feel. Till he could close his eyes and only see black for the rest of eternity. At least then he would be happy with the life he was living, or rather the lack of.

Perhaps if he died in some freak accident no one would know how much he wanted it. He wouldn't have to ruin his family reputation that was somehow good despite all the messed up things they do. Like the time he had to stand out in the cold for 2 hours over his parents argument. Or the time he was told to kill himself as a joke. Or maybe even the time he was hit until he bled. He was only 5 for gods sake how was he expected to know better. He hates it here, he doesn't want to be here. Here being "home". Here being living. He doesn't want to live anymore. He hacked and coughed for a second, whatever that's not important.

He feels like a wilting flower in a garden full of healthy blossomed beauties. His petals dropping down while 3 flowers beside him pick them up and give them back. He wishes they would just leave the petals on the ground. Perhaps then he could finally let himself wilt away. Someone should really empty this garden. Not this many people should care. Most of them aren't allowed to care. They did this to him how dare they act like they gave a shit. He's rambling again. What was he talking about? Oh right the page.

He looked down at the blank sheet. This time it wasn't as empty as before. There stood 2 beautiful red rose petals that just sat on the page. Where did they come from? One petal was slowly turning white before his eyes. This totally won't have any symbolic meaning. He chose to ignore it. It's just some flower petals on an empty page. Nothing new about that. He turned to face the room, the floor littered with the same petals. Some weren't petals but full grown flowers. He coughed once more. The time the petals were drenched in blood, in which he began to vomit out. Blood and petals. Guess this is how he goes out? Oh well, he lived a shit life anyways.

The world grew dark. He fell to the floor causing a loud thud. Just as he was about to loose consciousness he heard a voice call his name.

"WILBUR!-"

And then there was nothing.

(This will be finished soon dw)

Wow I finished this in exactly 20 minutes uh. 784 words now I need to go to sleep now, rest well and good morning siblings of mine (: I'm uh ok I swear. Just don't worry about me. Drink water, I love you all!

Agust 22 2022
843 words