Chapter Text
William Gold woke up in an old apartment. He wasn’t in Vienna anymore, and thank god for that. He was ready for his fresh start, a chance to reinvent himself is really all he’d wanted. Thoughts of uprooting his life had been there as long as he could remember but he’d never acted on them until today. Living alone in Brighton isn’t the best way to spend your days, anyhow.
Wait. No. He was trying to forget his old life, not reminisce on it. He killed William the second he bought the ticket to Brighton. Today, he woke up as Wilbur Soot.
Maybe England would be nicer to him anyways. He had always loved the architecture and people of the area, and it had been over a year since he had last been. Wilbur had always struggled to make commitments and bonds, so it’s not like he was hurting anyone by leaving. At least that’s what he was telling himself. He could be at peace here, and even at the cost of others, all he’d ever wanted was peace. Look, Wilbur will never claim to be a selfless man. William never was. But he could only keep moving.
Remembering was never his strong suit. He had always tended to drift off and let the memories burn out. Without a fight, he’d just try to move on. The issue was this time, he didn’t have any true memories to cling to, instead locking onto precious moments. People, even. The girl at the shop who smiled at him. The smell of the wind by the sea. A khaki coat. Bandages and wide smiles. The feeling of freedom. And then he let them dissipate, feeling the release of forgetting.
Some say that this was a coward’s way out, that your past is important. Wilbur chooses to ignore them. He was going to build his life, regardless of what anyone thought.
Okay. The first day of the rest of his life would start the instant he walked out of this room. He had never been simultaneously terrified and excited before, but he was as ready as he’d ever be. Wilbur raised his hand to the doorknob and prepared to turn it. And then the door flung open. What the hell?
“PHILLLLLLLLLLL! I WAS JUST PL-”
Who was this child?
“awh, shit. I am so sorry. This is probably not my apartment.” they said, looking embarrassed.
“It is not.”
“Wait, who are you?” the kid said in confusion.
“Uhhhh- Wilbur?”
“Goodbye Wilbur.”
He then dashed off down the hall into the next apartment.
What just happened? That was an… interesting way to introduce Wilbur to the world. Uhh… It works though. He should probably introduce himself to his neighbours now.
He walked out of the hallway and down to the next room over, room 169. Haha. Raising his hand to the door, he knocked gently. After waiting for a couple of seconds, a middle-aged man answered.
“Hey, mate! How’s it going?” he asked cheerfully.
“Pretty good! I’m your new neighbour,” he responded.
“Aw, actually? It’s good to meet you. I’m Phil. You?”
“Uh- Wilbur. Well, it was n-”
“PHIIIIIILLLLLLLL! WHO IS ITTTTTTTTTTT?!?!?!?”
“Shut up, Tommy, it’s our new neighbour. Come say hello.”
The child from earlier-Tommy- walked over to the door.
“HELLO?? Oh shit. Uh sorry about breaking into your apartment, Wilbur.”
“Tommy, you fucking WHAT?!?” Phil yelled.
“Alright, Phil, look. In MY defence, his apartment was unlocked and next to ours.”
Wilbur just looked at the two.
“Don’t worry about it. It was great to meet you!”
As the door closed, he heard receding voices talking about privacy. Okay. That was… something. That something turned out to be enough socialising with people for a day.
He should probably explore the city and familiarise himself with the area now.
As he walked out of the apartment complex, he found himself enjoying the novelty of it all. Being in a new place, starting a new life. It’s not yet clicked in his mind that he’s actually, finally done it. But here he is, and his life is on a brand new path.
Next to the complex, there was a bakery, a mini-mart, and a flower shop. Across the street, there was a water tower and some boutiques playing pop music. In the distance, he saw the lights of a casino flashing. Huh. He walked towards the bakery first, smelling the freshly baked pastries. The expansive menu included things such as muffins, croissants, and tarts. Wilbur walked up to the cashier and ordered a hot chocolate and a blueberry muffin, taking a seat in a cosy booth. Acoustic music flowed through the speakers, and his order was ready in no time.
After he had finished the meal, he headed over to the flower shop, hoping to buy a nice decoration for his apartment. A bouquet caught his eye, accentuated with wild roses and hydrangeas. He took it to the register and purchased it. He should probably take it back to his apartment now.
The thrill of the move has started to wear off. Wilbur slotted in an earbud and fell into his thoughts. The rest of the walk breezed by, and before he knew it, he was back at the complex. Once he got to his door, a basket filled with cookies and a note was placed in front of it.
He picked it up, and read the note. ‘Dear Wilbur~ I’m very sorry about Tommy, he’s a bit of a gremlin. I hope you like the cookies, we decorated them together. If you ever need anything, just come to us!
-Phil’
That was sweet. Honestly, though, he’d probably never need to get help from them. Picking up the cookies, an abomination of a treat was in his hand, with like a pound of frosting and a concerningly painful amount of sprinkles. He’s assuming this was Tommy’s. Of course it was. Well, he should probably get to work.
The afternoon sped by in front of a screen, with music being produced. The moon rushed into the sky, framed with clusters of stars. Wilbur powered off the computer and set down his guitar at an uncomfortably late time. He curled into the covers, ready for the next day.
Wilbur woke up feeling quite disoriented, having nothing to do with staying up past 3 AM. Nope. He exited the complex and bought a London fog from the bakery, trying to get his head straight. Well, it’s better than nothing. He should probably make sure his flowers have water before further exploring. Walking back to his apartment, he reached for his keys and GODDAMNIT he left his keys in his AUTO-LOCKING APARTMENT. Fun. After trying for about half an hour to break in somehow, he was forced to get help.
He walked over to room 169 and reluctantly knocked. A bit of scrambling could be heard as Phil came to the door once again.
“Ayup, how’s it going?”
“Uh, I seem to have locked myself out of my apartment? Any chance you could help?”
“Y- sure! Are you alright with people actively breaking into your apartment if it helps?”
“You know what? Sure.”
“Kay, just a sec,” Phil said. He then shouted, “HEY TECH CAN YOU BREAK INTO THE NEXT ROOM OVER??”
“Sorry, who?” Wilbur interjected.
“Oh, Techno. He’s my other son, you haven’t met him yet.”
“Speaking of, where’s Tommy at?”
“Oh, he’s over at a friend’s,” Phil responded.
Their conversation was cut short by a knock from Wilbur’s room.
“Oh! He should be done by now!”
They walked back over to his apartment and opened the door, only to be greeted by a new face.
“Hullo!”
Wilbur was quite taken aback by this.
“WHAT THE FUCK HOW DID YOU DO THAT???”
“Uh, I climbed through your window, which you should probably lock,” he responded. “I’m Techno, by the way.”
“Well, thanks for breaking into my house? I’m Wilbur.”
“Uhhhhh… you’re welcome?”
He then walked off back into his own house. That was quite awkward.
“Thanks for helping me with my apartment!” He called out, hoping to catch him before he was gone.
What the hell just happened? Seriously, what’s up with this family?
He’s fine. He’s just gonna do his work. Not think about people. Nope. Totally not.
Producing music was a hell of a lot harder when you’re preoccupied with thoughts of one particular family. I mean, how was he meant to focus while he’s actively confused? Why do they seem to actually like him? Why would they even want to-
Okay. He’s spiralling again. Breathe in, out. He’s fine. Just get something down, even if it’s not perfect. He needs inspiration, is the issue. His mind is too busy overthinking to find quality lyrics, so he’ll have to force them.
For some reason, that wasn’t working. Huh. He was completely screwed, and too tired to try to fix it, so he just fell into his phone. This will be a problem for later Wilbur.
Wilbur is not happy. He has to write, like, SEVEN songs in not enough time and none of them are working in his mind. He has shitty notes with basic concepts and that’s it. Most of the notes aren’t even usable, saying things such as ‘Do a city one’. Everything sucks and this is torture.
Thinking positively is better. He can do this! He’s just gonna improve on the prompt and practice some chords. Picking up the guitar, he laid it on his leg and began to play. Bringing life to music has always been something he’d excelled at, enjoying the way the notes blended together. Putting his emotions into the song, the beat picked up and he started to go with the flow of the lyrics. All of a sudden, it was working. Thank god. He was finally getting it together. Then, he heard a knock on the door. Shit.
/it was the police arresting him. so sorry to the person i made this for, but it’ll have to be discontinued! fuck you from the bottom of my heart wilbur soot. stand with victims!