Chapter Text
“Wilbur!”
“Yes, ma’am?”
The woman stared down at him, eyes scanning over his appearance making him shift uncomfortably. The boy was tall, lanky, and his grip on his garbage bag made his knuckles appear white- nervous energy surrounded him and his eyes were always wide despite the eyebags threatened to drag them to a droop.
The woman, her hair long and curly- as dark as a starless night sky, the boy had thought- shook her head. A scowl was evident on her face as she brushed off the invisible dust that rested on his shoulders. Louisa, was her name, his social worker. She was maybe in her late 30s, a tall woman [though it was probably the heels that gave her that impression] with a commanding voice and talons for nails. She never liked him, to be fair no one ever liked him, but she had a specific distaste for him.
“You’ve packed?” Her voice stoney as she already started walking towards the door of the shared home, not caring that he trailed behind
“Yes, ma’am”
“Good.”
Guided into the backseat of the old grey Impreza, the boy placed his bag between his knees and looked out to the home he was leaving- the other foster kids in the bedroom, barely even noticing that he had left. That was normal, no one noticed when the anxious kid leaves the room- he always blended into the background. His mouth formed a pout as the car rumbled to life, Lousia muttering something softly as she began to drive.
“You’re going to a new foster parent” she started halfway through the drive, Wilbur pulling his head away from the window to look at the back of her head, a new foster parent is good- that means they probably don’t have any older kids, which usually ended up being the worst to deal with “Philza Minecraft. Lives in a well off area, so you better behave”
Behave .
It’s not like he doesn’t behave. He’s 13 and has been to over 20 different homes, none of which keep him. Does he know why? No. Can he guess why? Well…
“So none of that,” Louisa waves her hand, and Wilbur zones back into what she was saying “ anxiousness. It freaks people out.”
“Yes ma’am” Curly brown hair oily and matted falls over his eyes as he stares out the window again, this neighborhood really is nice huh? It would be nice to live here. I mean, it’s not like he will, he’ll be kicked out in a week or so probably...rich people always leave the fastest if you’re not perfect.
The car was slowing down into a street that looked...expensive. The houses were large, most were modernly styled- gardens furnished, windows tinted- Wilbur didn't like it. Though, a few houses were older and looked wonderful to him. Vintage, iron decorations, flowers, cottage-style gardens-
So if Wilbur felt even the slightest bit happier being driven into one of the older-styled houses? How could you blame him?
This house was tall, built of dark red bricks, a willow tree stood at the front and stones lead to the oak door. The driveway was lined with yellow flowers and the outer window sills held small plants, it looked nice.
“Oh, and Wilbur?” Louisa spoke, turning to face him. Her face pulled into a frown as she rolled her eyes “shut up about all that ghost nonsense. No one wants to hear it.”
Ah.
Yeah.
That's the other reason no family kept him...he liked paranormal things. Ghosts and spirits interested him and he loved talking about it, death was another interest of his and-
Wilbur stopped his train of thought and nodded mindlessly.
Louisa didn’t wait for him, as usual, sauntering up to the door as Wilbur stumbled out of the car to follow her. Garbage bag held tightly to his chest as they approached the front door, Lousia knocked as she always did, resting a hand on his shoulder and giving a tight squeeze- it wasn’t reassuring.
“Don’t mess up” he heard her whisper, Wilbur gripped his bag tighter.
The door swung open and Wilbur didn’t dare look up as Louisa's hand gripped at his shoulder tighter, talons pressing to his skin and he’d be lying if he said he didn't have to resist to wince.
“Hello?” a man's voice, British accent like his own- he sounded like he was smiling? That...that’s better from what he usually hears.
“Philza Minecraft?”
“Oh!” The man laughed “just Phil is fine. You must be Louisa?”
“Yes! That’s me!” Lousia laughed, pulling Wilbur in front of her and gripping both of his shoulders “and this is little Wilbur!”
He had to look up now, didn’t he-
Oh.
No, he didn’t.
The man- Philza- Phil- can he call him that? Crouched down to his level, which being as tall as he is, wasn’t too much, but still, he went to Wilburs level and stuck out a hand. He was...young. In his 20s Wilbur guessed, he had blonde hair that fell to his shoulders and really blue eyes.
“Hey mate”
Wilbur hesitated but took the man's hand, giving a light shake. The man smiled, standing up properly and moving out of the way, allowing Wilbur and Louisa to walk in
“Lovely house, no wonder the inspection period passed over so quickly!” Louisa commented as Phil guided them to the kitchen, the man laughed lightly as they all sat down after being offered some water.
Phil sat at the head of the table with Louisa to his right and Wilbur next to her, quickly zoning out as the woman cut him from the conversation. She spoke to Phil as if he weren’t there just like she always does, chatting with him and going over records- not so subtly hinting that he was a nuisance.
Wilbur learnt to ignore that.
Instead, he thought about the house. There were two floors, from what he could tell after seeing a spiraling staircase in the main area in front of the door. There was a room directly right of the front door when they walked in, an office perhaps? And to the left, they passed a lounge room. Wilbur remembers catching the glimpse of a TV, he wonders if he’ll be allowed to use it? Or will it be unplugged whenever he’s home like in house 4? Past the stairs and the lounge room was the entrance to the kitchen, where they are now. It’s a big room, the table was oval-shaped with a few candles centered, which was kind of odd but Wilbur found it endearing. The kitchen itself was wooden with black marble counters, clean with a few jars scattered around filled with ingredients, it was nice.
He wonders how often he’ll be allowed to eat.
“Wilbur?”
The noise didn’t reach his ears as he zoned out further, thinking of what the rest of the house would look like- and Phil? Who is he? What’s his goal? Is he like house 7 that wanted to foster a kid to impress the new neighbors? He never liked the mother at house 7...will Phil force him to call him dad? Father? Or maybe sir?
Louisa stepped on his foot, making the boys head snap up, shoving his hands further into his lap
“Yes, ma’am?”
He noticed Phil raise an eyebrow, Louisa scowled but quickly wiped the look away
“Ah, busy daydreaming” she hummed, facing Phil with a smile “he’s got quite the imagination, he does. Always thinking about things that aren’t real ”
There was a double meaning there.
“Wilbur, I was just about to leave.” She explained, standing up and quickly shaking Phil hand again as the group made their way over to the front door, Wilbur once again scurrying quickly behind “Won’t you be a dear and walk me to the car?”
Wilburs head snapped up to look at Phil, last time she asked that at house 14 he got in trouble for not asking if he could first- removing his food privileges for the night. But the blonde man simply tilted his head in what Wilbur assumed was confusion, and that’s when Wilbur noticed the bucket hat on his head- it was...well, funny . A smile crept onto his lips before he quickly pushed it away.
“uh- “ Phil looked to Louisa who stood expectantly at the door “uh, yeah I’ll just wait here”
Wilbur noted the nervousness in his tone, was it an act? Probably.
The two walked to the old Impreza and just when they were out of earshot Louisa started to hassle him, scowl returning to her face as she picked at her talons.
“God, honestly, boy.” she groaned as they rounded to the passenger seat “you can’t do anything right. Just- make sure he likes you. Really, one more send back and I don't know what the hell I’ll do with you”
Wilbur shrunk in on himself as she rested a hand to her hip, glaring down at the boy
“Now, what do you have to do?”
“I-” Wilbur dared not look into her eyes, fiddling with the garbage back before reciting the words she’s drilled to his head since he was 6 “Ghosts aren’t real and I’m scared of stories about them, I don’t get nervous, I always behave, and I’ll never break a rule”
“Good boy” she rolled her eyes, wrapping her arms around him to what would look like a hug, unless you were the one receiving the death grip- arms pressing him further into himself as she muttered into his ear “Be anyone but you.”
And then she slipped into the car and drove off, leaving Wilbur standing alone in the driveway of house 26 holding his garbage bag firmly and holding his tears behind his eyes even firmer.
Boys don’t cry
House 5 insisted on that.
Phil was standing at the door when Wilbur made his way over, he stood picking at the back brim of his hat as Wilbur stood at the doorstep- not sure whether he was allowed inside yet.
“You can come in, Wilbur,” Phil said softly, stepping back further in hope of making the boy feel more comfortable “This is your house too now”
Right.
Sure it was.
Just- just don’t mess up. That’s all he has to do.
Don’t mess up.
“Do you mind if we go over some house rules or do you want to see your room first? We can go over rules anytime”
He’s messed up already.
Rules? Which did he break? What did he do? Was it because he zoned out? Did he spend too long outside? Did Phil see him look at the TV- he swears he won’t do it again! Oh no, what did he-
“Hey,” Phils voice came in front of him, the man was again crouching in front of him, eyes soft “hey, you’re okay”
Oh god- fuck - he was hyperventilating, shit- he didn’t- he did mean to do that! He’s normal- he’s-
“Wilbur?” Brown eyes snapped up to look at blue- Phil's eyes were...really blue...like, like a blue orchid. Soft, but bright and- oh god Phil was talking to him “Wilbur can you copy my breathing?”
He wasn’t...mad?
What?
Wilbur nodded as he watched Phil, a hand pressed to his chest so he copied the action, in for one out for two, in for one out for two, in for one out for-
“Better?”
“I’m sorry” Wilbur muttered, eyes cast down to his garbage bag “it won’t happen again”
“What?” Phil sounded...confused. Startled? Wilbur couldn't place it “Wilbur- you- no, it’s okay mate, you’re anxious. It’s a new house and i’m a stranger to you, it’s okay”
Wilbur stayed silent, his feet shuffled slightly as he watched the corner of the doorway intently.
“I’ll show you your room, yeah? How does that sound?”
Phil guided him up the spiral stairs, Wilbur noticed the ivy that grew up the railing but decided against commenting on it as he was led to the top floor. Walking up the spiral stairs was an odd feeling, and as soon as they made it to the next floor Phil stepped out of the way and began to move around, opening doors to show what each room was.
The front side of the house on the second floor has a large bookcase surrounding a window that overlooked the street, the room to the left of it was a spare room while to the right was a bathroom.
“Books are always a nice way to spend time” Phil had commented as he moved along. Next to the bathroom was a “spare room” that held a bed, as well as a few knick-knacks and next to that, was Phil's room- green and brown-themed, antique furniture and deep green sheets and a rug. Across from Phil's room was also empty, with a few storage boxes laying around, the room next to that however was his according to Phil.
“We can go shopping another day, if you want” He explained as he opened the door. The room was...nice. A single bed pressed to the left corner with some white sheets, a window in the center of the back wall with a small wooden desk pressed underneath it, and a wardrobe next to the door to the right.
And, the bookshelves.
Bookshelves across the left wall that reach from his bed and folded to about a foot away from the doorframe.
“This is...my room?”
He doesn’t have to share?
“Well yeah!” Phil nodded “It’s not very decorated so, like I said, we can get some stuff for you, like, tomorrow or something”
He gets to...pick things?
“Ah- do you not like it?”
“No!” Wilbur quickly snapped up to look at Phil “i- I mean- yes! Yes, I like it. I like it a lot. Thank you- sorry-”
Phil-
Phil laughed.
But- but he wasn’t laughing at Wilbur.
That’s a change.
“Well good!” He grinned, he hadn’t stepped into the room yet “I’m going to make dinner, anything you want?”
Wilbur shook his head, he wasn’t pushing it with that question.
“Hm okay, does pasta sound good?”
Wilbur nodded and with that Phil turned to leave
“Oh! Actually, by the way,” Phil grabbed the door handle and Wilbur's heart sunk- he was getting locked in. Shit. he should have seen this coming-
“There’s a lock here,” Phil pointed to the key stuck into the lock on...the inside? “You can lock it whenever, I won't come into your room unless you let me but if you’re in trouble I will unlock it, is that okay?”
What.
“Uh- y-yeah” Wilbur nodded, tilting his head “that's fine”
Then Phil turned and left.
And thus began Wilbur's first evening in the Minecraft household.