It had been a couple days since Wilbur had come to stay with Phil, the latter having gone completely dark on his electronics. Now they have two friends that have disappeared without an explanation. Phil thought, chuckling lightly. Speaking of the young male, the more time he spent with him, the more worried Philza had become. Will barely ate, was seemingly terrified of doing anything wrong, and barely talked.

"Hey Phil." Will said softly, as he walked into the room.

"Hey mate, how are you?"

Wilbur shrugged. "I'm OK."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"OK." Phil had expected this. Whenever he had offered the answer had always been the same. Sometimes he wondered if it was because of lack of trust, lack of confidence, or something else entirely.

After receiving the fiftieth phone call from his friends (mostly a certain twelve year old) within the past hour, he decided to put out a tweet.

"Hey Will, is it OK if I put something on Twitter, just saying that I'm going to take a break for a little bit for personal reasons?" Willbur nodded, then mumbled something under his breath. "Can you say that again mate?"

"Can you not mention me?" he whispered.

"Of course." Opening the app, Phil wrote a small message and read it aloud for Will. "'Hey guys, I am taking a break for personal reasons, please respect my privacy and don't pry my friends for info, they don't know.' How is that?" Wilbur smiled and nodded hesitantly. After that he sent a simple message to the group chat, asking them to keep the fans off his back to the best of their abilities.

For a while, they sat there, in a comfortable silence, neither bothering to move. That was, until Wilbur spoke.

"Can we play a little Minecraft?" Wilbur had been wanting to ask that question for a while, ever since Phil had asked him earlier. He had been subtly testing the waters, leaving his room, eating a snack, making noise in the middle of the night, ect. So far there had been no reaction, so he had gone for it. The simple sentence came out soft, barely legible.

"What was that mate?"

"Nothing." Will had lost his nerve

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"OK."

"Can I go to my room?" Phil nodded, looking concerned, and Wilbur left the room as quickly as possible. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. His mind chanted. You can't ask for things, you don't deserve anything.

It had been about a week and a half since Wilbur had last eaten, and he wasn't about to ask. His "dad" was unconscious, probably from getting wasted at a bar. With this in mind, he carefully stepped out of his room. Avoiding the creaky parts of the steps, he crept up to the pantry, nothing. Turning, he looked towards the fruit bowl, 'better than nothing, I guess'. He grabbed an apple and was about to leave when he heard a growl.

"What are you doing?"

Wilbur gulped, visibly shaking. "I- I was- I was hungry?"

"I didn't say you could eat, that apple is worth more than you are." Wilbur nodded, accepting his fate. The pounding continued for hours, by the end of it, let's just say some glass was embedded in his arm and bruises would cover his body for at least a month. He was left in the closet to "think about his decisions".

Over time, Wilbur had started to find ways to cope with his loneliness, imagining his friends (mostly the Sleepy Bois + Tubbo), talking to them. It kept him sane, or maybe made him not. Who knows? Techno always stayed with him, telling him to stay strong. Tommy and Tubbo cracked jokes, trying to make him smile. Phil had comforted him, "helping" him bandage his wounds and convincing him to continue to write songs, even though he couldn't sing/play them.They never talked to each other aloud, it was always in Will's head. Talking often resulted in injuries. He knew they weren't real, he didn't mind, it was something to do.