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Phil believed he was a good dad. He’ll admit he wasn’t always there for his children but he didn’t let them starve. Sure he was more often than not with his old friend Techno then he was at home spending time with his sons, he was sure his sons didn’t mind, and if they did they could have always told him.
Phil never realised how his sons saw him as a terrible father until a weekend he was at home. It was the first time in the past four months he was home and he was talking to his youngest son Tommy. He and Tommy were just chatting about, not really having a topic to stay on until Tommy mentioned Wilbur’s music.
“..Yeah and Wilbur has a new song in the works! Now don’t tell him I told you this but I already fucking love it, the chorus is one of the best-”
“Wait, wait, wait since when does Wilbur write music let alone perform it?” Phil never knew his son made music, why wouldn’t he tell him something like this?
A new voice joined the conversation “I reckon I’ve been playing since you decided that we weren't worth your time anymore” the voice was cold. Phil never knew Wil’s voice could sound so cold.
“Not worth my time? Of course you boys are worth my time!” Phil knew he wasn’t home a lot but he cared for his boys.
“Is that why you’ve missed our birthdays for the past three years now?” Wilbur said in retaliation “is that why I’ve had to deal with Tommy asking me why our dad doesn’t love us anymore. Is that why I had to raise Tommy by myself. Is that why I , NOT YOU ME, had to teach Tommy everything a father should have teached him. I didn’t know leaving us alone was a way of showing us that you cared.” Wilbur voice was cold, if you weren’t paying attention one would have just thought he was bored, but Phil had years of experience in this world and he could hear the untamed fury in his son's voice
“Wil listen I never meant-” whatever Phil was about to say was cut off by his eldest’s rage.
“NO, YOU DO NOT GET TO CALL ME THAT!” Wilbur sounded like he was close to crying. “NOT AFTER LEAVING, NOT AFTER YOU DECIDED THAT HANGING WITH YOUR OLD WAR BUDDY WAS MORE IMPORTANT THAN TOMMY, MORE IMPORTANT THAN ME! You don’t get to try and act like a dad anymore.” Wilbur's voice broke at the end.
“Wilby?” Tommy’s voice broke through the tension that Phil and his son had created, both of them having forgotten that he was still there.
“Tommy, oh Tom-cat I’m sorry did big brother scare you?” Wilbur immediately went to console his thirteen-year-old brother.
Phil just watched as his eldest to console his brother, as if it was practiced, as if he had done it a million times over and over.
“Will, I’m sorry for being a bother.”
“No no no Tom-cat, you can never be a bother I promise.”
“Will… look I didn’t mean to-.”
“You never mean to, do you?
“Will-”
“we are all leaving.”
“What?” Phil was shocked at what he meant. Leaving? Where to, where did they plan to go. “ Where do you plan to go? You can’t just leave?”
“If it really is any of your concern we were invited to stay in the lands of Esempii.”
“ESEMPII!? But I thought Dream stated that no one was allowed into his land.”
“Like I said, we were invited… by Dream himself.”
“So you're going just like that?”
“Yes, yes we are.”
“What about me? Do I mean so little to you that you're just going to leave me behind?”
Wilbur just stared at his father, fury clear in his eyes, “you have left us for months at a time, I feel no pity leaving you.” Wilbur looked at his father with what one could only describe as disgust. “Just go on some new adventure if it makes you feel any better, you’ll never know we’re gone.”
Phil felt as if his life was being ripped apart, his sons were leaving, going into a land that he could never visit them in, and with the way this conversation going he doubts they’ll come to visit him.
As Phil’s world fell apart around him the door opened behind him, and a little boy who could be no older than ten came tumbling in the house, a young woman coming in after him. “Daddy, Daddy, look look!” the boy ran over to Wilbur with a picture in hand.
Wilbur’s face went from looking angry to joyish as he grabbed the boy running at him. “What? What? What does daddy’s little champion have to show me?”
“Look!” the boy said shoving the picture into his father’s face. “I drew us. See! See! There’s you and Tomy and mommy and me. See SEE!”
“Aww fundy,” wilbur his heart so full of pride and love for his little boy, “Yes, yes I do see! Look at what an artist you are.”
“He was very excited to show you that you know?” the woman who was wearing a red and blue dress with a red beanie on top of even redder hair that went down to her mid back. “He kept talking about how he had to show papa immediately as he got into the car.” she teased her boy.
“Son? Since when do you have a son?” Phil had gotten out of his shocked state and could not process what was happening. He was a grandfather? When did this happen?
“Sally and have had Fundy for the past nine years.”
“NINE YEARS!?”
“Yes dad nine years.”
“Wilbur, you're twenty-seven that would mean he was born when you were eight-teen!”
“Look dad, as much as I totally want to have this conversation right now, I don’t. So if you’ll excuse us we have to finish packing.” and with that Wilbur picked Fundy up and placed him on his hip, giving Sally a peck on the lips as he listened to his son chatter about the gifts his friends gave him as a going away present.
After the four finished packing everything into Wilbur’s car they left. That’s it, no ‘goodbyes’, no ‘I love yous’, they all just left, leaving Phil to think all alone in an empty house. A house that never felt so cold without the life his sons usually filled it with.
Never had Philza Minecraft thought of himself as a terrible father, but as he sat all alone in his house staring at a photo of him and his sons, did he finally see that his absence in his son's life left a mark that would not be healing anytime soon. Phil made a promise to himself that the next time he saw his sons he would make it up to them, and give them the attention they deserve.
T̶o̶̶o̶̶ b̶̶a̶̶d̶̶ t̶̶h̶̶e̶̶ n̶̶e̶̶x̶̶t̶̶ t̶̶i̶̶m̶̶e̶̶ h̶̶e̶̶ s̶̶a̶̶w̶̶ h̶̶i̶̶s̶̶ e̶̶l̶̶d̶̶e̶̶s̶̶t̶̶ s̶̶o̶̶n̶̶ h̶̶e̶̶ w̶̶a̶̶s̶̶ p̶̶u̶̶t̶̶t̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶̶ a̶̶ s̶̶w̶̶o̶̶r̶̶d̶̶ t̶̶h̶̶r̶̶o̶̶u̶̶g̶̶h̶̶ h̶̶i̶̶s̶̶ c̶̶h̶̶e̶̶s̶̶t̶̶.