Chapter Text
[ note: if you have no idea what the game Life Is Strange is, then long story short its like. Choice based game where people learn to cope with heavy life decisions while also having Literal Superpowers. Time travel, telekinesis, empath, stuff like that. Very fun stuff i recommend it. This au is specifically based off the second game tho. Two brothers having to take care of themselves with the little brother having telekinesis. Neat stuff. Anyhow on with the scraps]
Phil leans forward, pen now discarded beside Wilbur’s lap. He’s been looking at Wil this entire time really, but now it feels a little heavier. A bit too much to bear.
“I would like you to be honest with me.” The man says, voice soft. “If you want to be.”
Wilbur presses his lips tightly shut, thinking of Tommy’s smiling face, the leaves floating up around his hair, the sun in their eyes.
“I’d be willing to listen.”
(Or, Phil has heard plenty of stories from mistreated kids. It’s his job to open them up and help. This story is…maybe out of his skill set.)
(Or, or, life is strange AU. Wilbur is just trying to protect his little brother from everything he can, in any way he can. Phil wants to try and protect him.)
[Chap 1 intro]
Wilbur Soot. Sixteen. Brother of Tommy Soot, ten years old, whose whereabouts are currently unknown.
Both brothers are suspected to have had involvement in multiple instances of property damage across four different towns. Wilbur Soot is suspected to have had involvement in the mysterious, fiery death of their previous foster parent, Dream Taken, who was found dead at the scene at their previous residence.
For the past four months, legal enforcement has had trouble catching them as they run up and down the state. There have recently been scattered reports of an adult man now traveling with them; caucasian, pink dyed hair, tattoos on his right arm. No one has been able to pinpoint who that particular stranger is, though.
No one has been able to figure out where he took Tommy after the peculiar explosion that occurred in the quiet, forest town of l’manburg.
Wilbur is apparently outright refusing to talk. Phil doesn’t blame him.
The hospital setting isn’t something that provides comfort, to be honest, and with all the doctors and nurses prodding at Wil with a wariness like he’ll bite if they step too close, it's a wonder the kid hasn’t done much other than scowl for the past three days. Phil does his best to never set up expectations in his head before he sees his patients-- kids can always be so much different than you’d assume, after all-- but Wilbur’s file in his hands tells a story.
Suspected murder. Involvement in multiple explosions, multiple fires, multiple buildings crashing down into dust. Wherever this kid went with his little brother, destruction followed on his heels. On the day they were finally able to bring him in, pulling him from the rubble, he came kicking and screaming, even with his broken ribs and internal bleeding. Rumor around the halls says he gave one of the doctors a black eye when he woke up from the first surgery. The handcuff on his wrist to keep him confined to his hospital bed has stayed there ever since.
By all accounts, Wil is a dangerous, violent criminal, one who isn’t partial to conversation. Phil should probably expect an instant failure the second he walks into this room.
A failure isn’t what he sees when he comes through the door.
Phil’s been assigned to a lot of troubled kids throughout the years. For the most part, his role is to calm them down, figure out what’s going on inside their head. Talk to them, listen to them, be an adult they can trust, if nothing else. He’s meant to be a support, assistance in guiding someone onto the proper path to healing.
For this case, his responsibilities are a tad heavier than usual. He’s been advised to poke for Tommy’s location, any clues as to who the man they were traveling with was. He’s been told to try and get an explanation out of Wil on what really happened that day back in June, that house set in flames, him and his brother fleeing the scene.
Phil intends to do that, or at least try, eventually, after a couple of successful sessions. They’re bound to hit a few hiccups, and he expects resistance of some sort from Wilbur before they get anywhere near a proper confession.
Especially with a face like that on the first day.
Wilbur sits tense at Phil’s arrival, his shoulders hunched up, his head turned to the side with his eyes to the floor. The handcuff on his wrist is pulled taut from where it’s attached to the bed, and his other hand sits in his lap, balled into a small, tight fist over the fabric of his hospital gown. His lips are twisted up in a scowl, eyebrows furrowed together as he glares at the white tile of the ground, and his look only goes more sour when he hears the door click shut behind Phil’s back.
Upon first glance, this is a kid who is going to swing, bite, and kick. Phil knows, from experience of seeing this same expression a hundred times over, he’d only do so because he’s terrified out of his mind.
It is such a minute thing, past the shield of anger. The tremble in Wil’s spine, the fast-paced beep of the heart monitor next to him-- Maybe with the bias of all things read in his file, it’d be easy to catch fear in the kid’s presence, see nothing but a danger about to snap its teeth.
At this moment, Phil only feels a slight sorrow, and a warm determination to leave today with at least a good introduction. He smiles as genuinely as he can, adjusting his arms over the box he took in with him.
“Good afternoon.” Phil keeps his voice light, gentle and kind. Nothing like the doctors with their indifferent, factual tones. Nothing like the cops who have come in and out of the door, trying their hands at cold interrogation. “I’m Phil Craft. You can call me Phil.”
Immediately, the different mood of Phil’s words makes Wilbur take pause. Something in his face relaxes, as if caught off guard. It’s probably been a while since anyone’s actually spoken softly to him, or even casually. Has anyone even given him a decent conversation since he’s first woken up?
Probably not. This case is one that’s been hitting the news loud, for all the confusing factors about it. People are desperate for answers, and try as they might to squeeze Wilbur for them, the kid refuses to give.
“Given your recent history, and the shit situation, I’ll be having daily sessions with you in your room from now on so that you can have someone to talk to.” Phil explains, very blunt and to the point. No need to sugarcoat it.
A scoff immediately comes from Wilbur’s lips, half surprised, half incredulous, and he turns his head up, finally locking eyes with Phil. He’s got dark circles under his eyes.
“They’re giving me a fucking shrink?” Wil asks, nearly baffled by it. His gaze flicks over Phil in a quick few seconds, taking in the sight of his casual clothes, no scrubs or doctor's coat to be seen. He seems to relax further at such an appearance. The response given is not the most ideal first words, Phil will admit, but it’s more than anyone else has gotten out of Wil for the past couple days, so he’s taking it as an absolute win.
“Yup.” Phil nods, and Wilbur somehow deflates into himself at the confirmation, his frown turning into a grimace. “Although, we don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. We can spend our sessions doing anything, really. I could just be here for company, if that’s what you want.”
“I want you to fuck off.” Wilbur mutters, leaning back into his pillows behind him like he can hide away into the fluff of it. For all the rumors saying he’s a dangerous criminal, he sure doesn’t look it at the moment. He looks tired. Frail, almost. Phil notes the skinniness on his arms, and grimly remembers the detail in Wil’s file of suspected starvation. Probably hard to feed two mouths when running on the road. He wonders if the stranger that’s recently been seen with them had been trying to fix that, or if he only let it be. Was he taking care of them, or was he a kidnapper, like how the media has been saying?
Ah, theorizing is not Phil’s job. He focuses back on Wil’s grumpy answer.
“Aw, but then you won’t get to find out what’s in the box.” Phil holds said box into the air, the cardboard exterior of it giving no hints as to what it holds. “Don’t you want to know what I brought?” He asks, shaking it a little, not enough to really jostle whatever is inside.
Wilbur stares in silence for a long while, the beeping of the machines echoing between them. His jaw shifts in consideration, then- “Is it…clothes?”
Phil’s lips twitch into a smile. “Nope.”
“Mhm.” Wilbur scrunches his nose. “Is it legal documents or something? Like, stuff I need to sign?”
“No.” Phil tilts the box from side to the side, almost teasing with it. “It’s better than that. Do you want to keep guessing, or can I come closer so that I can let you open it up?”
Wilbur lifts his chin high. He offers no such permission. There’s a hint of something playful in his eyes. “Is…” He drags out the word, Phil tilting his head with the next tilt of the box. “Is it candy?”
Candy. God, at that slight hopeful look, Phil should’ve snuck in at least one sweet. A chocolate or two has never hurt. “It is not.”
“Drugs, then.” Wilbur doesn’t have even a second of disappointment.
Phil holds back a surprised snort. “No.”
“Dirt?”
“...no?”
“It’s not dirt.” Now, there’s disappointment. Phil cannot tell if it’s real or if the kid is only fucking with him. What sort of therapist brings in a box of dirt upon their first session?
“It’s not dirt.” Phil repeats slowly. An amused grin creeps its way onto his face. “Why would it be dirt?”
Wilbur shrugs, his handcuff clicking against the bedhandle. “I dunno. Is it snacks?”
“It’s not food.”
“Damn.” Wilbur smacks his lips in dismay, then heaves a great big sigh, like this back and forth interaction is a lot for him. “Well, I don’t know how you’re going to bribe me if it’s not food or something.”
“Did you want food right now?” Phil asks, fully willing to go asking a nurse to bring a meal by.
“I want a burger.” Wilbur deadpans, a hint of annoyance returning to his expression. Phil is filled with understanding. He wants something other than hospital food. “An overpriced, greasy burger, instead of oatmeal or some shit.”
“Maybe one day, I could sneak one in.” Phil says in a stage whisper, leaning forward like that’s a secret just between the two of them. Wil hums in acknowledgement, not quite believing it. While he’s chatting with Phil with ease, there’s clear distrust still swimming behind his eyes. The only reason he hasn’t deemed Phil boring is because his attention is very much caught on the box and the allure of mystery with it. They both know this.
Wil bites at a scabbed lip, his hand coming up to pick at the band-aid that’s placed over his cheek. “Okay. Stress ball. Final answer.” He lifts his hand high and makes a fist. “Like, one of those squishy toy things that you strangle so you can calm down? That thing.”
Phil huffs, shifting his weight as he goes to open the flaps of the box for Wil, since it seems he won’t be making any steps closer today. “Well, I suppose one of the items is considered a toy.”
“Oh, shit, there’s multiple things in there? That’s not fair.” Wilbur makes a slight pout, leaning forward from his pillows. “I thought it was just one thing.”
“It’s three things.” Phil says, pulling up the top of the box and reaching inside to first take out a little plushie, a tiny black crow with white buttons for eyes. “This is Brian.”
Immediately, Wilbur’s walls rise back up, a quiet frustration seeping into him like the flick of a switch. “I don’t need a stuffed toy.” He argues, Phil straightening up at the sudden harsh reaction. “I’m not six.”
“Hey, be kind to him.” Phil doesn’t scold, he keeps his tone light, and Wil’s sudden anger falters. He presses Brian to the crook of his neck, tucking it beside his chin. “He’s actually my stuffed crow, y’know. I’ve had him for about five years now. He’s a great listener.”
“He’s a bird.” Wilbur says, and he blinks. He shakes his head. “It’s a bird. It’s a stuffed toy.”
“Well, he’s my bird.” Phil pulls the plush out from his chin and holds it out into the air. “Would you mind watching over him for a couple days? I keep forgetting to bring him home, and I’d rather have him somewhere safe than be shoved into a desk drawer or something.”
Wil stalls at that, subtle shock written over the curve of his frown. He looks skeptical at the idea of it, aware that this is probably a trick or something to get him to accept a plush bird, but there’s no harm in that, and so he hesitantly lifts his arm out, readying himself to catch it.
Phil tosses it gently, and the crow lands right into Wil’s lap, bouncing a bit before being steadied under the kid’s palm. He immediately goes to poke at the button eyes, pressing his fingertips at them. Phil is content to let the silence linger so he can fiddle with it for a while, but Wilbur’s focus quickly moves on, still curious for the other two items. He tucks Brian beside the pillows next to him, looking up at Phil. “What’s next?”
Phil reaches into the box again and pulls out a book. “Have you ever read Percy Jackson?”
Wil takes a sharp breath in.
He opens his mouth like he means to answer, but then he freezes, and his words stay lodged in his throat. His lips close, then open, then close again, and finally, he just shakes his head, avoiding Phil’s eyes. He holds his uncuffed hand out, and Phil tosses the book over without any prodding questions. Today is for introductions. He’s not going to pry.
Wilbur cradles the book to his chest the second he’s gotten it in hand. He squeezes it close, eyes staring off somewhere far, and there's a conflicted sorrow in the way he hunches over it, shoulders raised up to his ears. Whatever easy confidence there was before, it’s lost in this moment, Wil clutching the pages to himself like it’s a piece of his heart. Phil has a suspicion that if Wilbur hasn’t yet read that book, then maybe instead his little brother did. Tommy. Maybe that one was one of his favorites. Maybe it’s just a reminder of him.
With a slight pity curling low in the bottom of his stomach, Phil goes reaching for the last and final item, wanting to be done with this so that Wil can have his time to process what he’s gotten. He moves the box to rest at his hip as he presents a worn, dark red beanie in his hand. Wilbur’s eyes flick up at Phil’s movement, then he jerks forward at the sight of it, his new book almost sliding to the floor, entirely forgotten in the face of this final gift. Wil barely catches it in time, slapping a palm onto it to keep it beside his leg.
“Holy shit.” He breathes, eyes wide at Phil. “Holy shit. That’s- that’s mine. That’s my hat, I-” He leans forward, his handcuff clicking against the bed.
“I thought you would probably want it back.” Phil says, throwing it to Wil before he even asks for it.
Wilbur snatches it out of the air, squeezing his fingers into the fabric. All the reports from the last couple months have included this same red beanie, each and every time. Even through all the shit the kid has been up to, even with his clear attempts to stay hidden, this was something consistent with his appearance. A detail he couldn’t let go, even if it made him recognizable.
“How did you get it?” Wilbur asks, laying the beanie in his lap, tugging at the material like he can't believe it's still mostly intact. It’s somewhat clean. There’s a couple of holes and tears Phil couldn’t do anything about, but the dirt and ash has since been scrubbed off. “I-I thought all my things would’ve been confiscated or some shit. Like, evidence or something.”
“I don’t think a single hat isn’t going to do much in terms of evidence.” Phil points out, and Wil squints at him with a small huff. Phil shrugs. “I asked around to see if there was anything that could be returned to you. That was what popped up.” He explains further, waving a hand to it.
“Holy shit.” Wilbur repeats. He grasps the beanie tightly and holds it to his chest, just like he did with the book. His smile towards Phil is blinding. “Oh my god, I- I really thought I lost this.”
After a short second, he goes to tug it on over his curls, adjusting it with his one free hand in a way that seems like habit. It sits snug on his head, and he keeps a palm pressed to it like he still can’t believe he’s got it again.
“I thought I lost it.” He repeats again, the words quiet on his tongue, and far more somber. He stares down at the book in his lap, the cover brand new, and in his next few blinks, his eyes have gone glassy. He lowers his hand. Brian stays squished against his hip, comforting in a way Phil can’t quite achieve.
[scrap snippet]
“Give it to me straight, doc.” Wilbur asks, patting his hands against his thighs with his head leaning in. Phil smiles indulgently at the phrase, then he lets the fondness fade, taking in a breath.
“There’s been…discussion of putting you on trial for the death of your foster parent.” Phil says in one go. Wil’s face falls in the worst possible way, an instant flicker of fear in his eyes.
“What?” He says, words small. Phil quickly goes to continue, holding a hand up.
“But- nothing has really been decided, because the facts as we know it are still up in the air. No one knows what happened that day. You haven’t talked, there were no witnesses, there were no cameras-- nothing. And there’s been protest, for that lack of evidence, for the fact that you might’ve-“ Phil stops.
Wilbur’s distressed look shifts into something of dread. “That I might’ve what?”
“You might’ve not been the one who did it.” Phil finishes, and Wilbur’s entire body goes still. His face freezes up, eyes wide, a perfect picture of someone who’s been caught in a secret they were trying to keep.
Phil can’t deny the relief in him to know that Wil might not be at fault for all this, but rather just a victim. “Wilbur-“ He shifts closer, Wil stuck in place. “The man you and Tommy and have been traveling with-“
“He didn’t do it.” Wilbur blurts out. He immediately seems to cringe at himself for saying that in such a frantic way, but he moves over it, shaking his head, pushing off Phil’s unconvinced look. “He didn’t. He’s good, he’s not a bad person, he didn’t kill our foster dad and kidnap us!”
“That’s pretty much what it looks like right now, Wil.” Phil points out. Wilbur falters, eyes moving away, his breath hitched. “Unless you want to tell me what did happen?”
Wilbur opens his mouth.
“...You won’t believe me.”
“Hey.”
“No. No, you won’t believe me. I can’t tell you because you won't think it's true, you’ll think I’m lying to save his ass or something.” “I swear he didn’t do it, though. He didn’t. Techno’s only ever wanted to protect us since we met, I promise-“
“Techno?”
Wil freezes. “I mean-” “I-”
“Is that his name?”
“No.” “Phil, please, I swear he’s not bad, he’s the only one- You can’t send the cops after him.”
“I won’t.”
[AU summary ramble]
Life is strange AU. Starts off smack in middle of plot, Wilbur has gotten separated from Tommy and is hospitalized from an “explosion” incident. He’s labeled a flight risk and a threat. Phil gets assigned to him to try and figure out what’s going on with those violent tendencies, and surprise surprise, Wilbur is just very traumatized. He doesn’t like Phil at all for a while, but Phil sneaks him pudding and is Good Dad so he wins like a scrap of trust.
They talk a bit throughout a week or so and Phil eventually breaks Wilbur down enough to get him to talk. Wilbur is convinced Phil will not believe him. Phil is honestly not really convinced and thinks Wil is just having mental problems but he’s playing along for the moment, for Wil’s sake. Phil is less “that couldn’t be real” and more “that must’ve been so difficult for you to handle” and thus Wilbur becomes emotional wreck and is like “it was.”
He gets a hug from Phil and continues talking about his adventure. Cue basically a story rundown here of how Tommy got powers, accidentally killed abusive foster parents to save Wil, they went on the run, became homeless, got picked up by Techno, got into trouble while trying to fight off police, Wilbur wound up in hospital.
Phil is like “wow this kid has been through a lot” He mostly focuses on making sure Wilbur feels supported and cared about bc the kid is CLEARLY stressed out. Then the hospital gets broken into by Tommy and Techno, who are there for Wilbur, who- whoop! Is also making an escape attempt. He stole a paper clip from Phil earlier and picked his handcuff.
Phil finds him running and is like okay don’t get caught you will be in trouble and things will get worse. Wil then sees Tommy across the hallway. Techno is with him. Techno sees Phil with his hands on his Child. Proceeds to suckerpunch Phil. Wilbur is like noooo my emotional support dad figureee. Techno is like sighhh alright and drags Phil out of the hospital. Phil wakes up in the back of a truck. Wilbur is like this is Tommy, Tommy do the thing (Tommy does the thing (levitates a couple rocks)) Phil is like OH HE WAS BEING HONEST DEADASS???
They keep driving for a while then stop and Technoblade kinda talks to Phil like “I am taking care of these boys, are you gonna get in my way or not bc I’m two seconds away from ditching you on the road and Wilbur is the only thing holding me back here” Phil is like ohhh I am not a criminal but i also do not want to leave these kids to fend for themselves so he’s like “I’m in, let’s coparent” Techno did not expect this outcome tbh. Was kinda hoping he could throw Phil to the side of the road. Phil earns his trust through being Fatherly to Tommy and gets the Stamp of Approval from the fam. They stay on the run with one plus father added to the fam. Yayyy
[extra note: i wish i wrote more of techno in this thing i am loving the concept of him accidentally coming across tommy and wilbur and then immediately deciding he’s going to lay his life down for them. He’s also technically already a criminal in this au— like he very much lives off the grid and isnt a people person but tommy and wil somehow end up in his care and he is going to move heaven and earth to ensure their safety and happiness. Phil is absolutely offput by him at first because Techno is a big intimidating dude who probably killed a guy once but then techno is soft for like two seconds when chatting with tommy and phil is like oh! Youre cool. Hilarious dynamic between all of these sillies. Theyre all breaking so many laws. Phil did not mean to go this far but welp guess he’s on the run now he’s a father]