Don't Speak (SBI Angst)

57

Wilbur POV:

Incoming call:J

I let it ring out, not like I could talk on the phone with him anyways

My phone starts getting alot of texts from him

'Pick up.'

'It's not like I expect you to say anything r*tard'

Incoming call:J

'Answer it.'

'Just talk through fucking text while I speak'

As long as I don't have to talk

I answer

"About fucking time."

'Sorry.'

"No, fuck that. Look, you got me in fucking trouble with technoblade because you're too fucking dense not to get caught by my fucking brother."

'Sorry.'

"Stop fucking apologizing you're acting like my r*tarded fucking brother. I don't care, I'm not necessarily mad at you, but leave me the fuck alone. I don't want any more issues with techno and right now that's all you are, just another fucking issue I have to deal with. I will not hesitate to beat the ever loving shit out of you for one wrong move wilbur."

'Wouldn't that cause even more techno issues?'

"I don't care, I do not fucking care. Your stupid fucking brother already took my punching bag and im too fucking lazy to get up and get it, ill go grab him later or after school Monday or some shit."

'Your punching bag?'

"Ranboo."

'Shit I didn't even know he was here. Haven't left my room.'

"Cool, I gotta go now. Just don't fucking reach out. Don't fucking block me either. If I need you I'll still make sure I'm able to get to you."

He hangs up before I even send a response.

I think he was trying to seem scary but he just sounded kinda fucking dumb. Like, that was the worse way ever to say 'I'm too much of a pussy and don't want to see techno rn'

Still, I just got used to him. And as much as I hate myself for it, I'm really gonna fuckin miss him, he was fun whenever I was out of it enough.

I should probably go tell ranboo that schlatt'll be looking for him though.

I get up, my headache hitting me like a pound of bricks.

I groan slightly before fully getting up and trailing myself to Tommy's room, I don't know what fuckin time it is but the sun's up, so I hope he's up.

I knock, no answer.

I knock one more time before just opening the door.

He's not in there, crap. Did they go to their other friends house? Turbo-? No wait- tubbo was his name.

I knock on technos door, hearing him get up to open the door.

"Yeah wil?" He's slightly whispering

I realize I forgot my notebook- I really haven't used it lately to be fair.

I pull out my phone

'Where's tommy?' I type on my notes app.

"Sleeping" he moves the slightest bit so I can see tommy on his bed

'What about ranboo?'

"Tubbos, why?"

'Schlatts trying to find him.'

"And you know this how? Block him."

'No he'd beat the shit out of me'

He sighs, annoyed

"Not with me there. block. Him."

I start to write no on my notes app but he grabs the phone from my hands the second I start typing the N.

I immediately start trying to get it back, but he's too fucking strong. Fuck me dude.

I manage to hit the power button right before he gets to his contact,  locking the screen so he can't even get it on anymore

"Fuck- Wilbur. I promise you'll be fine. You don't want to be schlatts right hand fucking man." How fucking low does he think of me? Thats not at all what this is.

I snatch back my phone and without thinking- against my better judgment,

"Fucking hypocrite"

I immediately slap my hand over my mouth and don't dare to make eye contact

He hasn't said anything, but obviously tensed, he's probably pissed. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

"Good job."

I look up at him in obvious confusion, like, the fuck??

"You spoke and stood up for yourself, even if I think you stood up for the wrong reasons, good job."

I just nod as a thanks before awkwardly walking off with a wave.

Of course the only words I've said to him are 'no' and 'fucking hypocrite' like what the fuck??

Ranboo POV:

Tubbo just finished calming me down from a panic attack, I know he only knows how to do it so well since tommy used to get them alot more than he does now. He still gets them sometimes though.

I really don't want to go to fucking school tomorrow.

I have too since I have to leave my absences for when I'm too beat up to even get out of bed in the morning.

I excuse myself to the bathroom for a second and immediately look in the mirror, god I look beat.

My hair is greasy, I have large eyebags, not to mention the tear stains and cracked lips.

Once I'm done I go to wash my hands and realize there's not any soap out, so I look under the sink.

I see a bar or soap, but it's behind some shit

I move the stuff, it was just toilet paper, dry shampoo, and-

Oh.

A pack of razor blades

I've thought about self harm before, I mean, look at my life.

It's just been more on my mind since tommy told us why he was at the hospital.

I even asked him why he self harms, and his response was simple

'It's an easy distraction.'

Yet, It still doesn't seem that easy.

Taking a blade to your arm, pushing down, and swiping it across until you've bled enough, just praying it wasn't too much.

That actually seems quite difficult.

It's terrifying to know that you've gotten to that point, isn't it?

To know your not wearing long sleeves because it's cold.

To know you might be responsible for your own death, and not caring.

That has to be difficult.

Or maybe it's only difficult when you're already dying, when you know this is your last chance to have a cry for help that isn't hidden by sweaters and sweatpants, when you have to decide if the last face you see is going to be your disappointed sibling, or your own reflection in the bathroom mirror as you watch your face lose color.

I won't put myself in that position.

Words:1077