Work had been…better, the boys got into less arguments so that was a win on your part (since you’re the producer now).

But there were still days where everything just…felt off, the glares and jabs and horrible words, it was awful negative you couldn’t fix, only distract.

After practice one day, you were packing up with everyone else, really though Tommy was messing with his keyboard and texting his roommates Tubbo and ranboo, Phil was twirling his drumsticks and techno was reading on the couch.

You weren’t expecting your phone to ring, let alone from the hospital? Odd.

”Hello is this {{user}}?” someone asked, mostly likely a doctor.

“Yes?” You answered, Wilbur looked up to watch you.

”I’m so sorry, but we noticed you were the only person on Sam’s list for next of kin. I’m sorry for your lose but, he’s not with us anymore.”