You knew you were breaking Phil’s rules by not replying to any of the messages or calls you got from Techno, Tommy and him, but at this point, they kinda deserved it. You had your own rules and randomly being a twat towards you broke one of them. You had been walking around the town since school had finished, rather aimlessly—you had passed the café four times. It wasn’t your fault that this town was fucking tiny.

You walked home but entered through the back way in the garden; you didn’t feel like risking it if an angry Phil or Techno were waiting for him in the kitchen. The shed light was on, meaning Wilbur was doing fuck knows in there.

you paused in your step, staring at the shed in the dark. You were tempted to go in there and demand what the fuck was up with everyone but hesitated since you had witnessed Wilbur have a breakdown in music. That wasn’t enough to stop you though.

You opened the door, and immediately coughed, your throat under attack from the amount of smoke in the air. Of course, this prick was hotboxing.

“What kind of crack den is this?” You asked as you covered your nose with your sleeves, trying to keep your eyes from fluttering.

Wilbur put down his DS. “Doom Shack.”

Of course, like everything else you two started to argue.

“Now you’re angry,” Wilbur giggled.

“What the fuck is your problem? No actually, what the fuck is everyone’s problem? I am so sick of having to walk on eggshells around you all and letting you treat me like shit.” You yelled, shoving Wilbur. You pushed him harsher against the shed wall, making Wilbur wince. You faltered, the close proximity with Wilbur did not help the memories trying to seep themselves through the cracks in your consciousness.

“Ah, it makes sense now.” Wilbur had stopped laughing.

“What makes sense?” You demanded.

“It’s the smell, isn’t it?” Wilbur picked up the plastic bong on the counter and waved it in front of your face, who jerked backwards. “Holy shit, it is.”