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The wind whispered around him.
Come on, Wilbur. You’ve done so much, you can do this. Staring down at the glittering water beneath them, sparkling in the moonlight, Wilbur took a few shaky breaths and laughed softly. “Always one for dramatics, eh?” He murmured, smiling softly. Stepping closer to the edge, he took another breath.
So many breaths. He’d been fighting so hard, so long. And for what? What point was there to anything around him? What point was there to him? There isn’t any. You’re nothing more than a waste of space. You’re a monster. You’re manipulative, and you’re weak. You’re pathetic and mean. You take and you take and you take and give nothing in return, and now you have to face it for the first time. Monster.
Sucking in a breath, he closed his eyes and then took another breath. He needed to pull out his phone, he needed to call someone and try to talk to them. Of course, it was more than just because he wanted to talk to someone. Talk to Techno and Tubbo and Tommy and Phil and—sniffing, he rubbed at his eyes with the back of his head. Come on, Wilbur. Suck it up. You need to say goodbye, are you just going to leave them with knowing nothing about you? Nothing about where you went? You’re just going to off yourself and do nothing more than that?
Taking a shuddery breath, he pulled out his phone, started scrolling through his contacts. Try and call all of them. Just say your goodbyes all at once, don’t tell them what’s going on. You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine. The small echo of his phone ringing bounced off of the buildings around him, over the water. Wilbur looked down at the waves, took everything in that he could.
He could barely see the stars, and the fog lingering around the banks didn’t quite hide the moonlight or the river, only the shore. It blocked out the streetlights. Now that he thought about it, it was pretty ironic. The last lights he would see, the little lights he used to look at in wonder when fog wreathed them…now they were shrouded from his sight. Like little droplets of hope scattering away into nothingness. They’d leave nothing behind. He would leave something, memories and thoughts and—
No one picked up.
A small part of him screamed, wanted to beg and wail petulantly for someone to pick up. He wanted to talk to someone, anyone. He didn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to one of the others. To any of them. That was my last time. That was my last time speaking to them and I didn’t know and now they’ll never know.
Going to messages, Wilbur sighed and leaned against the railing. He needed to message them. Needed to talk to them, explain what he was doing. So, he went to the main chat. One without Tubbo, or Tommy, or any of the kids younger than twenty. He wouldn’t dare put this on their shoulders. Not like this. Sure, maybe they’d mourn, but he wouldn’t dare force them to live through watching him die. Well, sort of. They wouldn’t quite see him die, they’d just be seeing his last message. Then that’d be it. No more Wilbur.
Swallowing, he sent each of the absent SMP members a quick I love you, goodbye. Then came the big chat. He just had to pray none of them came in at that time, that none of them were awake or on their phones. Or that they had the chat unmuted.
He glanced down at the water. It looked pretty peaceful. Nice. If he fell, he wouldn’t make it. He’d die on impact, or he’d freeze to death in the water. Drowning wasn’t ideal, but he supposed it could have been worse. At least no one would have to find him. Come on, Wilbur, type.
I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.
You have to do this. This is your fault. You hurt everyone. You’re going to hurt everyone and you’re hurting them right now by not doing anything. Scrubbing at his wet eyes with his sleeve, he looked down and slowly swung one leg over the edge of the railing. Then the other. He was so close, so close. He could back out now if he wanted to. Turn around and head right back to the house, talk to the others. No, it was too late for that.
This was it.
Swallowing, he turned to the phone and smiled bitterly, tears tearing at his eyes. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Everything ached. Physically, mentally, all of it. It hurt and it hurt and it wasn’t going to get better. Come on, Wilbur, just type.
He took a breath, typed out his final message, and then tossed his phone in front of him into the water. Taking a breath, he braced his arms against the railing behind him. Looking up to the sky, he sucked in a breath of the cool, cold, fog-written air and laughed softly. “I love you guys.”
The railing slipped from his hands, and for a moment, just a moment, he could have sworn he was floating.
+++
You Have 99+ Missed Messages
79 Missed Calls from Dadza
40 Missed Calls from TommyBinnit
39 Missed Calls from Tubboi
42 Missed Calls from Pigstep
Dream
Wilbur what the hell was that where are you
Dream
We’re starting to get worried man come on
26 Other Messages from Tubboi
Pigstep
Wilbur
Pigstep
Answer your damned phone, you stupid musician
99+ Other Missed Messages from Pigstep
Tubboi
Wilbur please tell me you’re okay
40 Other Messages from Tubboi
TommyBinnit
Wilbur pick the phone up right now
TommyBinnit
Wilbur
99+ Other Missed Messages from TommyBinnit
Missed Call from Dadza
Dadza
Wil
99+ Missed Messages from Sleepy Bois Inc
99+ Missed Messages from We’re All Mad Here (Dream SMP)
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Post-Notes: For those of you who are here for the angst, this is your stop. Talk to someone if you’re feeling down, call a number or a hotline if you need to, you aren’t alone. Someone will miss you.
As always, y’all are loved and appreciated and awesome and amazing, and I hope you have a lovely day. Thank you for reading. I hope to see you again soon.
For the rest of you who need that happy ending, here’s this bit.
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He didn’t know how long it took for him to really come back to himself.
He knew he was in the hospital. He’d woken up a few times, when he was being pulled from the water, wet and cold. Someone must have seen him jump in. Either way, he passed out multiple times. One moment, he was being loaded into the ambulance, the next he was being rushed through the hospital corridors and someone was holding an oxygen mask to his face. He woke up, once, with the tube down his throat and someone’s hand clutching his own like a lifeline. For who, he wasn’t sure. Maybe, just maybe, it was for the other person and not him.
When he woke up, and he meant really woke up, he was lying in a hospital bed.
His fingers were resting on soft hair, and he looked over to see Tommy slumped down and drooling on the thin mattress. Beside him, Tubbo was slumped against him, cheek smushed against his shoulder and eyes lightly closed, mouth just slightly hanging open like something from a kids’ cartoon. Bandages were wrapped around his forearms, and Wilbur blinked a few times before looking around the room a little more. There was an IV in one of his arms, a tube in his nose. Electrodes from the heart monitor were stuck to his chest, more to his head. Oh. I guess I did drown.
Tommy and Tubbo weren’t the only ones in the room.
He saw evidence of people that weren’t there, too. While Dream was slumped against Sapnap and George on the bench on the opposite wall of the room from Wilbur’s bed, looking even more like sleepy anime characters than Tommy and Tubbo did, Wilbur could see that Sapnap was wearing Bad’s hoodie and George had a Skeppy blanket thrown over him. Fundy’s hat was settled on Dream’s head, moved to the side just enough to hint that Dream had been used more of as a hat rack than anything else. Wilbur almost snorted at the thought.
Techno was sitting on the floor, legs crossed and hands in his lap. His head was tilted back, and he was snoring softly. The God of Blood needs his beauty rest, after all. Wilbur mused, smiling to himself and then tipping his head to the other side. Phil was sitting, hunched over, in one of the plastic chairs. Concern split his features even in sleep, and he’d wrapped one of the blankets Wilbur had seen Kristin gift him for Christmas around himself like a burrito. One of his hands was stretched out, though, clutching Wilbur’s in the way it had previously.
Oh. That was him. Blinking, Wilbur took a breath and looked around the room. A small smile fought its way onto his mouth, and then dropped. What did I do?
They’re going to wake up. They’re going to want to know why.
I should have just died. Why didn’t I die? Why did someone have to see me? Phil groaned and straightened up, face twitching and eyes cracking open. The moment he realised Wilbur was fully awake, he jolted upright. “Wil.” His voice sounded hoarse. Has he been crying? How long have I been out?
Look at you, hurting everyone. You should have died. That was what you were trying to do, and you couldn’t even do that. What a failure.
“Wilbur.” Turning, he met Phil’s gaze. There was a certain fire to it. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on in that brain of yours right now, but I don’t want you to listen to whatever voice is telling you to die. I don’t know how it got this bad. But you listen to me,” Wilbur looked away. This was when he got scolded. Or abandoned. Wouldn’t have been the first time, probably wouldn’t be the last time, either. “Wilbur, look at me.” Slowly, Wilbur dragged his gaze away from the bedsheets and met Phil’s. A hand settled on his shoulder, grip firm and unwavering. There was a sharp, fierce tone to Phil’s eyes. “You listen to me right now, Wilbur. I don’t know what your mind’s telling you, and I’m not sure I care. If it’s telling you to die, that we don’t want you around, you listen to me. You’re worth something. You matter. There are people here for you and if there’s no one else standing by your side then I’ll be damned if I’m not there with you.”
“Phil—”
“No, Wilbur. You matter. Do you understand that? If you died right now, nothing would be the same. I won’t make you apologise, but I expect you to start asking for help. I expect you to talk to us if you need it, not send us an apology in the group text in the middle of the night when you’re at the end of your rope. I’m sorry that we didn’t pick up the phone. I’m sorry I didn’t pick up the phone—”
“You don’t have to apologise, Phil.” Wilbur mumbled, and Phil barely hesitated before he continued.
“You matter. I love you. You may not be blood, but you are family. That’s what matters.” Phil said, and Wilbur looked back at the tiles. Holding onto his arm, Phil added, “We’ll get through this, Wilbur. I’m not letting you go that easily.” Both of them went silent, and Phil sighed. “Now get some rest. Everyone’s going to yell at you when they learn you’re awake.”
Smiling, Wilbur cracked, “I wouldn’t expect any less.”