willy wonka was something of a visionary, an inventor, a chocolate maker. he was a young man, yes, his forlorn appearance out of place in the city, however his desire to make his name in the culinary world as a chocolate maker overpowered that. after all, what else did he need other than his chocolate, and a hatful of dreams?

yet, it felt as though his dreams were currently being trampled underfoot.

wonka, along with his small band of accomplices, had amassed sufficient funds from their clandestine (and decidedly unlawful) chocolate-selling operation to secure a temporary lease on a shop within the prestigious gallery gourmet. with their assistance, he had breathed life into his vision, creating a chocolate shop unlike any other.

but of course, all good things had to come to an end; a poetic counter to his prior optimism. the chocolate cartel, slugworth, fickelgruber and prodnose had infiltrated their stock, nefariously adulterating his confections with yeti sweat, resulting in rapid hair growth among the exceedingly agitated patrons. the store had been trashed, along with any hope he had left.

he had also discovered that you, his newfound friend, were the child of fickelgruber. that revelation was the final nail in his proverbial coffin.

as you entered what had been wonka's a few hours prior, the acrid scent of burnt sugar singed your senses. it was quiet, except for a few pigeons fluttering in the rafters.

"please, leave me be, before this day can get any worse." wonka murmured, his head lowered and his brown curls casting his face in shadows; but it was evident that he had been crying from the dusting of pink on the tip of his sharp nose.

out of pure, rage induced speculation, he had drawn the conclusion that you had played a role in the cruel sabotage. he had shouted, shouted at you, while you looked on, slightly mortified. you were a traitor, or at least, that is what he had christened you in his mind.

"i wish to be alone. i do not want to look at you, nor speak to you. you're to blame."