It had been about a week since Wilbur's mental breakdown, and the guitar had arrived a couple minutes ago. The boy that the instrument was intended for was currently asleep, so Phil didn't have to worry too much about sneaking it into the house. Slipping into his room, Phil carefully wrapped the box and slipped a note onto it.

Smiling softly, he delicately laid it on the foot of Will's bed, careful not to wake him. Walking downstairs, Phil prepped some breakfast for the both of them, and settled down to wait.

Wilbur sat up slowly, wincing slightly as he stretched. That's when he noticed the box laying by his feet. Glancing around, he reached for it, bringing it into his lap. Spotting the note, he opened it cautiously.

To Wilbur,

I don't know what happened to your original guitar, and it's up to you if you want to tell me. Either way, I always enjoyed your songs, and I know you enjoyed making them. You are amazing, and I really enjoy spending time with you. I hope that you can forgive me for all the times I messed up.

-Love, Phil

Tears pricked at his eyes as his gaze landed on the box. He wouldn't buy one, right? Grabbing the box, he gingerly moved the wrapping aside. Grasping it softly, his hands traced the polished wood, lingering on the tuners. He considered playing it right then and there, but stopped. He doesn't like noise. Shaking off the thought (though he still didn't play it), he made his way downstairs.

Phil was sitting at the table, sipping a drink and scrolling through something on his phone. He looked up as Wilbur came in, smiling softly.

"Hey Will."

"Hi. Um, th-thank you, for the- for the guitar."

"No problem, mate." They fell into an awkward silence, "Are you hungry?" Phil asked, gesturing at the pancakes on the table.

"Um, yeah." Wilbur responded as he made his way towards the table. He was looking much better. He was now a healthy(er) weight, and was a bit less jumpy. They ate in silence, the only sound was the clatter of silverware on plates.

Then, of course (because the author is so creative), Phil's phone started ringing. Glancing at the caller ID, he scoffed.

"Tommy." He stated, glancing at Wilbur." He nodded, and Phil clicked the accept button. "What's up, mate?"

"Are you available for a video in like two days?"

"Maybe, we'll see."

"OK, Big Man."

"Oh, and Tommy?" Tommy hummed in response, "I'll call you, not the other way around OK mate? No. Spamming. Me." Tommy just laughed and hung up. "That kid is going to be the death of me." Phil said fondly. Wilbur cracked a smile. It's gonna be OK.