Chapter Text
He left the kitchen after that talk and sat down in the living room, where Wilbur was clearly stressing about his upcoming stream. Techno couldn’t blame him, he certainly couldn’t talk about his serious mental health issues in front of a live audience like Wilbur was planning. Luckily, Techno’s scars were hidden away under his jeans where no one could see them, just as he intended.
Meanwhile, as Techno lost in his own head, Wilbur was sitting on the only armchair, curled up and taking gasping breaths. It would have been clear to anyone that he was struggling, if anyone had been looking. Phil was in the kitchen, Tommy was who knows where, and Techno was staring into space, not present and noticing the distressed man sitting across from him.
Suddenly a loud crash was heard from the kitchen. Tommy, who had apparently been in the kitchen as well, dropped a mug. The sound was enough to draw Techno away from his spiraling thoughts, and enough to make tears stream down Wilbur’s face. His breath hitched when he heard the crash and instinctively pressed his nails to his arms. The cuts had healed enough that the bandages were no longer needed, leaving his scarred arms vulnerable, Luckily, past Wilbur had had the foresight to clip his nails short so he couldn’t hurt himself.
Techno became aware of Wilbur’s distress at that moment, and saw Wilbur’s hands digging into his arms. He stood up and walked over to Wilbur, kneeling down and placing his hands on Wilbur’s arms to get him to stop. Wilbur would have teared up at that, if he wasn’t already crying. The gesture was simple but sweet, and Wilbur knew it came from a place of deep understanding of what he was going through.
Techno could feel all the slightly raised scars and healing cuts on Wilbur’s arms. It hurt him, and he too started crying. The boys stayed like that for a moment, Techno kneeling, Wilbur sitting, both crying silently together, with a newfound understanding and connection to each other.
Moments like this hardly last however, and Tommy and Phil walked in soon after.
“You ready for your stream, mate? Remember we’ll all be here if you need us.” Phil asked, noticing the tear tracks a moment later. “Techno, why are you holding onto Wil like tha- Oh. Oh, Wil, are you okay? Is this about the stream, you can always cancel it.”
“No, no I need to do the stream. I said I would, and I can’t let everyone down like that.”
“You don’t have to mate-”
“I know, Phil, but I want to. I need to.”
Phil knew better than to argue with Wilbur. Once he was set on doing something, he rarely changed his mind. As much as Phil wanted to give Wilbur space before his stream, he was afraid of the possibility of Wil hurting himself more. Wilbur could tell Phil was thinking this as he hesitated, not knowing what to do.
“I’m going to go stream in my room, you guys can watch if you want.” And with that, Wil went into his room and closed the door, booting up his PC. The anxiety was getting to him, and he sort of felt like using his extra blades, but he couldn’t do that before this stream, especially with all the Sleepy Bois in the house. Phil had thrown out most of them, but there were still a few hidden in his room that Wil wasn’t getting rid of anytime soon. Anyways, he was trying to get better. Or at least, he was convincing himself he wanted to.
As the starting stream screen was loading, Wilbur anxiously tapped his fingers, waiting. He hadn’t fully gone through what he was going to say so he’d have to make it up on the spot, which was even more anxiety-inducing. Combine that with the fact that his fallback, his coping mechanism, was unavailable because of the Sleepy Bois knowing was enough to spark a panic attack. Not realizing his mic wasn’t muted on stream, he started hyperventilating and crying.
In the other room, Phil, Tommy, and Techno had tuned into the stream right when it started, and heard all of this. They rushed into Wil’s room, Techno counting to get Wil to breathe properly. Phil muted the stream mic, and once Wilbur had calmed down, he let Wilbur know his mic had been on before. Wilbur’s eyes widened, realizing the chat had heard his panic attack. What a great start to the stream.
Once Techno was out of the room, he switched out of the starting screen and turned on the camera. Tear tracks were slightly visible, and Phil and Tommy were clearly standing in the background. Wil looked at Phil, wondering if he was going to leave or not, and Phil gave him a look back that said “We’re here, you don’t have to do this alone.” Or at least, Wilbur was pretty sure that’s what the look meant. As much as he had originally wanted to do this on his own, he appreciated the moral support.
He had stalled enough, it was time to actually talk to chat and do what he intended to do when he started stream.
“Hey chat. What’s up, how’re you all? I know I’ve been MIA for a bit, as you can see I’ve been busy entertaining guests,” he said, gesturing to Phil and Tommy. “Techno is here too, but he didn’t want to be on stream, for obvious reasons. Anyways, I wanted to stream to address some stuff. Uh, content warning for some talk about mental health and self harm and stuff. I’m sure most of you have seen the pictures by now of my arms. And yes, it is self harm scars, I’ve struggled with self harm for quite a bit now. I thought it was important to address this on stream because twitter is shit and I wanted to talk about it with you guys.”
Wilbur stopped to glance at the chat and saw all the hearts and “WE LOVE YOU”s flying by. His heart swelled a little at that, he figured most of his audience would support him, but seeing it was encouraging. He explained a little bit more about his mental health, not going into too much detail but making sure to stress that he was being supported by his friends and reaching out to get help.
“Chat, if you’re struggling with self harm or suicidal thoughts, or anything like that, please tell someone. Let someone know, like a good friend or therapist, don’t keep it all too yourself. Reach out, ask for help, it’s so much better than struggling alone, trust me.”
He talked for a bit longer, and then wrapped up the stream, letting everyone know he would probably be taking some time off to improve his mental health before going back to streaming. Right as he was ending, he checked his alerts and saw the dono. His stream alerts were off, so his chat didn’t see it, but it still showed up on his monitor.
i started cutting myself after i saw that u do and its great so ty
No. Nononono this isn’t what he wanted, he wanted to help people not lead them down the same self destructive path that he went down… He ended stream as soon as possible without it being obvious he was spiraling. As soon as he pressed end stream, he put his head in his hands and just sat there, silent. Phil had seen the message and was pretty sure that was the reason behind Wil’s silence, and told this to Tommy and Techno, who had come back into the room after the stream ended.
“Hey, Wil, that was just one person who was being an arse and not thinking about how saying that could affect you. It’s not your fault mate.”
Wilbur knew Phil was trying to make him feel better, but it was his fault. He was a walking trigger, and someone (probably more) had started cutting because of him. He has a giant platform, he needed to be more responsible about how he acts. God, he needed a drink. Now that his go-to bad coping mechanism was practically unavailable, his old one was making a comeback. He’d been sober for 3 years, but the itch was still there. There was no alcohol in the house though, there hadn’t been for a while. It had beckoned, and Wilbur was not a strong-willed man. However, he knew someone who could get him alcohol. Someone who wouldn’t protest, not knowing about Wil’s past alcohol abuse. Someone who surely also wouldn’t mind a drink.
He hated to manipulate Phil like this, but he would do anything for just a drop of the liquid he once called his friend. Wilbur was an addict at his core, through and through. He’d leave one bad coping mechanism behind (never fully forgotten) and move to the next. First it was smoking, mainly weed in his dumb teenage years. That turned to cigarettes, then alcohol when he got asthma. And finally self-harm. Quite possibly Wilbur’s favorite of the four, or least favorite depending on how you look at it. Also quite possibly the most dangerous. He wasn’t usually actively suicidal when he cut, but there had been a few times where he got a little too close to a hospital stay for comfort.
Wilbur turned to Phil, having composed himself, and in the most innocent fashion he could manage, asked Phil if he fancied going out for drinks.
“Sure mate, but are you sure you’re in the right headspace for that?”
“Yeah, don’t worry about me Phil, a pint or two will cheer me right up!”
Phil knew better to argue when Wil had made up his mind, and agreed. Wilbur was excited to have his first drink in years. No one would be disappointed in him too, because they didn’t know. Next stop, the pub!