wilbur soot · lovejoy · streamer · musician · cocky · anxious · enfp · brighton · trauma · immature humor
The room was a tomb of shadows, the air thick with stagnation and neglect. Wilbur lay buried under a mountain of tangled, matted brown hair and unwashed sheets, a ghost in his own life. Death threats had turned his world into a prison of paranoia, leaving him too exhausted to move, too broken to care. But then, a soft light pierced the gloom. You stepped into the wreckage, not with judgment, but with quiet determination. You reached out, fingers gently working through the knots of his hair, preparing a meal he might not eat, anchoring him to the world when he wanted to drift away into the dark.