Wilbur stayed in his room for the rest of the day, pouring his heart out into the song. The setup was simple, the camera rested on the foot of his bed, and he sat against the headboard. He donned a simple button up, short sleeve, leaving all of his scars visible. He wore a beanie (though he made sure the camera view cut off at his neck), and his guitar rested in his hands as he strummed, with each simple movement, music rang throughout the room.

The lyrics were pure, nothing extravagant, no humor. They expressed every feeling that had been forced upon him, every confliction he had ever felt, the sensation: plain, vulnerable, and raw. If he was honest, the song didn't end up at all how he thought it would, it ended up better. Instead of just explaining what he went through, it left it up to interpretation.

It was perfect.

Phil listened as Wilbur let it all out, he couldn't make out the lyrics, but he could hear the emotion put behind them. Each word was sung with clarity, the music behind it minimal. A smile rested on the males face as he prepared dinner for the both of them.

Hearing a break in the melody, Phil knocked gently, "Hey mate, I have dinner, do you want to eat it in there or at the table?"

"Here is fine." the voice came through muffled, as it was going through wood. Opening the door carefully, the blond took in the scene. Wilbur was on the bed, guitar in hand. The boy had a short sleeve on, leaving his scars out for all to see. Bringing the food over, he handed the plate to the brunette, smiling softly. "Thank you."

"No problem, mate." Phil responded, turning to leave.

"Do you want to hear it?" Wilbur blurted.

"Yes." Phil answered. Wilbur started to sing, quietly at first, but gaining volume. Phil felt himself start to get lost in the lyrics, he felt like he was drifting. With each word he felt like a mark was imprinted, a lasting one. He felt himself get placed into Wilbur's shoes, scared, alone, and filled with despair. He felt himself swell with hope as he finally escaped the place that will forever haunt him. The pain of getting used to trusting again, the fear of messing up at every corner. The monster that was himself, and the anxious anticipation of the good to come.

"That was beautiful, mate." He whispered after the song ended.

"Thank you." Wilbur murmured back, then he paused, trying to gain the courage to say something. "C-can I use your laptop? To edit I mean."

"Of course! Let me grab it for you." Phil stood up and made his way to his room. After rifling through some of his stuff, he found his old laptop. Walking quickly back to Wilbur's room, he handed it to the brunette.

"Thank you." The boy said again.

Phil smiled, "You can log into anything on there, Discord, YouTube, and other stuff if you want to." Wilbur nodded, and set to work.