Phil was wrapping up with filming when he heard the faint sounds of guitar. No way. Deafening quickly, he paused to listen. After a couple seconds he had confirmed it, he wasn't hallucinating. His face broke into a huge smile, and he rejoined the call.

"Where'd you go, Big Man?" Tommy questioned.

"Oh nowhere, I just thought I heard something."

"Ah, I see, was it a woman?"

All of them laughed, "No."

"Awwww, darn it." They stayed in the VC for a little longer, just chilling, then they said their goodbyes, and went their respective ways. The music had stopped, and already Phil felt an ache in his chest, he missed Wilbur's songs. Leaving the room, the male made his way to the kitchen, getting a glass of water, he decided to knock on Will's door.

"Hey mate, I just wanted to say that I'm done recording, if you wanna hang out." He had chosen not to mention the guitar, Wilbur obviously didn't feel comfortable sharing the music with him yet, so he didn't pressure him. What he didn't know, was that on the other side of that door, the poor boy was stressing out.

Wilbur was sitting on his "bed", humming softly under his breath, when his very drunk, adoptive father barged in.

"I SAID NO NOISE!! YOU! USELESS! PIECE! OF! SHIT!" With each word a punch or kick was thrown, the scent of alcohol clogging up the boy's senses. By the end of the beating, Wilbur's nose was bleeding, and his ribs were turning a dark shade of bluish purple. That was on day 27, that was the day that Wilbur made sure to wait until his "father" was asleep (passed out from the alcohol) to sing.

He almost stopped completely, but Fake Phil kept him going, the "T-Team" (as Tommy so affectionately called himself, Tubbo, and Techno) keeping watch as he did so. That's when he came up with "Unpredictable". It wasn't the name of the song per se, it was more of a style.

The lyrics changed as times went on, it adapted to the circumstances. When Wilbur was happier, the song was too, when things were looking down, the feeling was reflected in the melody. Hence the name, "Unpredictable".

When Phil knocked on the door, Wilbur got thrown back into his memories. His breathing became more uneven, ragged. He no longer heard the muffled voice through the door, that's why he was so surprised when someone entered.

Flinching back, Wilbur moved to the corner of the room, his hands protecting his face. "I'm sorry, I won't make more noise. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." he begged. He didn't hear Phil's voice telling him that he was safe, that he wasn't going to hurt him, that he wasn't mad, that it wasn't his fault. But Phil kept saying it, and slowly, Wilbur regained his senses.

"I'm sorry." He murmured.

"Hey, you have nothing to apologize for, the only person that's at fault is that bloody man that did this to you OK?" Wilbur nodded, and quickly melted into the embrace that was offered to him. "I really enjoyed your song, I didn't hear the lyrics, but it sounded good." Phil said quietly, taking the boy by surprise.

"Th-thank you." The older male smiled softly, and Wilbur felt his eyes slowly close, and he gradually, peacefully, fell into a dreamless sleep.