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(Y/N) had no idea how (he/she/they/it) got here.
Actually, that's a lie. (He/She/They/It) knew exactly how (he/she/they/it) got here.
Ever since childhood, voices plagued (him/her/them/it), telling (him/her/them/it) "you're not good enough," or "you don't deserve happiness." (He/She/They/It) didn't say anything to (his/her/their/its) family about these voices, however: for if (he/she/they/it) did, (he/she/they/it) would be placed in an insane asylum.
(He/She/They/It) didn't want to go there, and (he/she/they/it) wasn't insane.
(He/She/They/It) was sitting on a wooden bench next to a man. (He/She/They/It) had to admit, despite the nagging feeling of depression, that the man was very attractive. He was wearing a gray trench coat, giving him the old-fashioned vibe, and he wore a yellow shirt underneath. He wore black jeans and ankle boots, and his hair was a little messy under his black beanie. His brown eyes were fixated on the phone he was holding, and earbuds were connected to the phone.
(Y/N) looked away, feeling ashamed for staring so long at the man. (He/She/They/It) could hear the sound of an incoming train draw nearer, so (he/she/they/it) stood up, stepping forward towards the edge of the passenger platform.
"Hello."
(Y/N) turned around to see the man looking up at (him/her/them/it), one earbud out and in his hand. He gave (him/her/them/it) a polite smile and waved. "Hello, (Sir/Miss/Mx). I can't help but notice that you're standing awfully close to the edge. You should step a little ways away, don't you think?"
(Y/N) didn't reply; instead, (he/she/they/it) just stared at the man.
He stood up and took out the other earbud, then put it in his trench coat pocket. "The name's Wilbur Soot, (Sir/Miss/Mx). What's your name?"
(Y/N) hesitated before mumbling, "(Y/N)."
Wilbur smiled gently and said, "That's a (beautiful/handsome/nice) name. Fits such a (beautiful/handsome/nice) (boy/girl/person)."
(Y/N) smiled back, and (he/she/they/it) could feel (his/her/their/its) cheeks growing warm. A part of (him/her/them/it) wished to stay with the man, but (he/she/they/it) knew that if (he/she/they/it) didn't end things tonight, (his/her/their/its) voices would grow to be deadly for those around (him/her/them/it). Even now, they were screaming at (him/her/them/it):
PATHETIC!
USELESS!
GET AWAY FROM HIM!
(He/She/They/It) turned back to where (his/her/their/its) final resting place would be, and (he/she/they/it) took another step forward.
The man didn't follow, but she could feel concern radiating off of him. "(Mr./Miss/Mx) (Y/N)? What are you doing so close to the edge?"
(Y/N) turned and faced the man, stepping backwards off the platform and onto the rails. "I'm silencing the voices so that no one else can die with me."
It was at that moment that the train rounded the corner and began heading towards the (male/female/person) on the tracks. (Y/N) closed (his/her/their/its) eyes, waiting to fall into the welcoming arms of death, but, instead, (he/she/they/it) felt something grasp (his/her/their/its) arm and yank (him/her/them/it) out of the way, making (him/her/them/it) stumble and fall onto what felt like a human. (He/She/They/It) opened (his/her/their/its) eyes and saw the man's face. (He/She/They/It) closed them once more, content. "So you were death, Mr. Soot," (he/she/they/it) sighed. "My, you are comfortable. No wonder everyone seems to think that the Angel of Death is beautiful. You are quite beautiful."
"You're not dead, (Y/N)."
(Y/N) hid (his/her/their/its) face in the crook of what (he/she/they/it) thought was Death's neck, and (he/she/they/it) felt a pair of arms wrap around (him/her/them/it).
BITCH, YOU FAILED!
YOU LIVED! THAT DAMN MAN SNATCHED YOU OUT OF THE WAY OF DEATH! WITH THAT, WE CAN MAKE SURE NO ONE SURVIVES YOUR WRATH!
(Y/N)'s eyes snapped open, and (he/she/they/it) stared into the eyes of who (he/she/they/it) thought was Death.
"Hi."
(He/She/They/It) quickly tried to pull away, but (he/she/they/it) was stopped by Wilbur's arm. (He/She/They/It) glanced behind (him/her/them/it) and saw that the train was still moving, and they were next to the edge of the platform, on the solid earth next to the rails.
"Shoot, I am so sorry," (Y/N) whimpered, tears stinging in (his/her/their/its) eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm—"
"It's alright," Wilbur murmured softly, hugging the (boy/girl/person) (who was still quite a strange stranger) to him. "You're safe. You're going to get help, okay? I won't let you die. I barely know you, but I can tell you're going through more than just mere depression."
(Y/N) nodded, wiping at (his/her/their/its) eyes. The train had finally gotten past, and (he/she/they/it) could feel Wilbur's arm slack behind (his/her/their/its) back.
"What's going on, Miss? I want to help you."
(Y/N) slid off of Wilbur and shook, tears streaming down (his/her/their/its) face without end. (He/She/They/It) blubbered, "Voices. They're yelling—no, screaming—and they're telling me not to trust you, that you're lying, that I should have died—"
(He/She/They/It) felt a warm hand on (his/her/their/its) shoulder, and, out of nowhere, dead silence filled (his/her/their/its) head.
Silence.
What a beautiful sound it was after all you could do is listen to chaos.
"My father has a friend that also deals with voices. They do the same thing, although it's usually just yelling at him to kill…specifically, orphans. And a certain gremlin child." (Y/N)'s bottom lip trembled as (he/she/they/it) gave Wilbur a weak smile, and (he/she/they/it) could feel a small bit of hope start to grow in (his/her/their/its) heart like a flower in a prosperous field.
"Would you like to come with a random stranger you just met that saved your life, and follow them to a house with the Angel of Death, Orphan Obliterating Piglin, Boat Boy, and Golden Gremlin Demon?"
(Y/N) breathed out a laugh, but (he/she/they/it) nodded. "That sounds wonderful, compared to dealing with these assholes that are in my head for the rest of eternity. Also, what does Boat Boy do?"
"He spins."
*One Year Later*
Wilbur's family was like (Y/N)'s, in many ways. Well, they didn't commit arson all the time, and they weren't constantly being hunted for murder, but they were just as chaotic as (his/her/their/its) own family.
Technoblade had become a mentor to (Y/N), and (he/she/they/it) thought for the longest time he was the most sane out of the family (besides Wilbur), but, damn, was (he/she/they/it) wrong. The two grew to be friends, and they helped each other through panic attacks that the voices triggered.
Tommy and Tubbo had become like little brothers—one being a total dickhead at the beginning but eventually treating (him/her/them/it) like he treated Wilbur; the other always being sweet and kind. Both were always getting into trouble for something…but that was part of their charm.
Philza was like a second father to the point he even grounded (Y/N) at one point because (he/she/they/it) helped prank Fundy with Tommy and Tubbo. However, he realized (Y/N) was an adult, so he backed off the whole grounding bit. He still lectured (him/her/them/it), though.
Wilbur.
Ah, yes, Wilbur. He had saved (Y/N)'s life and gave (him/her/them/it) a life (he/she/they/it) had never had. Every time Wilbur touched (him/her/them/it) (not necessarily like that, ya nasties), the voices silenced, so he had grown accustomed to holding (Y/N)'s hand when they were in the same room.
(Y/N) still dealt with depression, but (he/she/they/it) began going to therapy, and (he/she/they/it) slowly got better. Truthfully, it was hard. There were times (he/she/they/it) wanted to kill herself, but then (he/she/they/it)'d look at Tommy and Tubbo's smiling faces, or (he/she/they/it)'d laugh with Technoblade and Philza about politics, and (he/she/they/it) knew that all the pain (he/she/they/it) was going through was worth it.
The one who made life colorful for (him/her/them/it)—the one who helped (him/her/them/it) sew the ripped patches that was holding (him/her/them/it) together—was Wilbur. He would go into (his/her/their/its) room at night and check on (him/her/them/it). He would write songs to motivate (him/her/them/it) when (he/she/they/it) lost energy to complete a task. He would even go out of his way to make (Y/N) laugh (one time, he wore cat ears in public for an entire day just to make [him/her/them/it] smile).
After several months, Tommy and Tubbo decided to set Wilbur and (Y/N) up on a date, and the two unsuspecting lovebirds got together two dates later.
Yeah, life is tough. And, of course, (Y/N) had times where (he/she/they/it) struggled. But, knowing that (he/she/they/it) had family to rely on and someone who loved (him/her/them/it), despite (him/her/them/it) being in pieces…
Well, wasn't that more than enough to live for?