It had been about a day since Phil had answered Tommy's call, and the latter was getting antsy. If Phil didn't get back to him, he'd have to call someone else, and he had no ideas. Maybe Jack(Manifold)? Ironically, just then, his phone started ringing.

"Hello?"

"Hey Tommy, I'll be available."

"Really?! You're a lifesaver."

Phil chuckled, "No problem, mate. What time?"

"Tomorrow, 2PM, my time," he answered.

"K, see you then." Tommy let out a sigh as he hung up. What is up with Phil? He's been acting weird. Hope he's OK. He decided to call Tubbo.

"Hey Tommy!"

"Hey Big Man."

"What's up?"

"Do you think Phil is acting weird? Like, I know he has something personal going on."

Tubbo paused, "I don't know, I mean maybe he has like a guest or something, and he wants to make sure he spends time with them?" he speculated.

"Maybe, I did hear someone with him on call a couple weeks ago."

"Well we are filming a video with him tomorrow right?"

"Yeah."

"We can ask him before we start."

"OK."

The two residents of the Watson house were anxious to say the least. This was the first time Phil was recording in the two weeks since Wilbur had come to stay with him. And although it wasn't live, so many things could go wrong.

"If they ask me where I went and why what should I answer?" Phil asks.

"Um, ju- just say it's private maybe?"

"OK." Glancing at the clock, Philza started to make his way to his room, then turned, "Oh, and if there is a problem, don't hesitate to come to me OK? I will mute my mic and turn off my facecam when you come in." Wilbur nodded timidly and gave a small smile, which Phil returned, before closing the door behind him.

"Hey mates." he greeted as he joined the call.

"PHIL!!!!!" I THOUGHT YOU DIED!!" Tubbo shouted (he had been in more of the mod videos ever since Wilbur disappeared).

"No, I was just taking some time to myself."

"Well is everyone ready to start?" Charlie asked.

"Yeah, just hold on a sec, I'm joining." Phil answered as his character spawned in the world. "OK."

"Ready boys?" Tommy queried.

"No." Tubbo answered. The call was filled with silence for a second, then they all burst into laughter.

Phil had started recording about thirty minutes ago, and Wilbur had spent half of that trying to work up the courage to pick up his guitar. Finally, he managed to find some resolve, and grabbed it. Tenderly, he brought it into the right position, and strummed it gently. It was dreadfully out of tune.

Stifling a chuckle, he carefully prepared the instrument, adjusting the strings with a practiced hand. When it was ready, he started to play softly.

"I'm running, I'm screaming, I'm fighting, I'm frozen

Just let me be, just let me be broken

I'm flying, I'm sinking, I'm drowning, I'm floating

Just help me, I'm already smoking"

He sang quietly. It was the chorus to a song he wrote during his time in... there. He never got to hear what it sounded like with a guitar, the chords melted into the lyrics with a satisfying grace. The rest of the words poured out of his mouth as his hands moved at their own accord, he still sang softly, barely audible. But, it felt like he was free.