Tubbo tried to see whoever was in front of him, but his eyes only met a wall on the opposite end of the room.

- You're bleeding- voice stated and he felt someone taking his hand.

- Well I tried replacing strings in Wilbur's guitar, but Tommy started yelling and I hurt myself with one instead- Tubbo sighed, letting the mysterious owner of the voice carefully wipe the blood. He was very delicate, but his hands were rough from hard work.

- Wilbur?- Tommy frowned at the name, but the voice chuckled.

- My son- fell the response, but then the voice went quiet for a second.- Yes, that's his name... my little Wilbur...-

- Guitar was signed, before you ask- Tubbo quickly stated, seeing that Tommy started to open his mouth. Being otfasted, the taller boy pouted and crossed his arms, pretending to be offended. But Tubbo didn't pay much attention to him, trying to see the ghost.- Though I have a question... who are you? And why Tommy knew you're in here?

- He's visible on the monitor- Taller boy pointed at the black screen.- And lights were flickering-

- It was an accident- Tubbo almost heard him shrugging.- And my name is Phil, but you can also call me Philza. Or uncle, like Tommy- he laughed, gaining loud "HEY" from the mentioned teenager.

- I'm Tubbo... but you already know that, right?- Phil chuckled once again, ruffling the boy's hair.- Why were you singing back then?-

- You had a nightmare...- this time he sounded sad and slightly worried. He cared about them, didn't he?- It was the least I could do...-

- It helped, so... thank you- Teenager blushed slightly, a little embarrassed. It wasn't his fault that he had that horrible dream...

- It's not me who you should be thanking. It's Wilbur. But... judging by what you were doing, you're already making him really happy-

- He's... somewhere here?- Tubbo looked around but he couldn't see anything. Well... he couldn't see Phil as well so that made sense...

- Should be. It's his floor after all-

- Looks like I'll need some explanation- so Phil did just that, just after Tubbo sat next to Tommy. It was funny talking while being able to see only reflection, but the older man didn't seem to be bothered explaining everything to the backs of boys' heads. He even seemed happy to be able to talk at all. But suddenly he stopped, looking at something in the hall.

- Something wrong?- but Phil didn't answer, rushing out of the room and hugging air. Or at least something boys couldn't see even in the reflection. He seemed... both sad and glad?

- It's... Wilbur...- Tommy nodded, looking at this weird, yet very emotional scene. From what he understood, Phil had been separated from his sons for years, up until now. Heck, he probably didn't even know he had them.- But why can't we see him?-

- He's probably too broken- taller boy stated. It would make sense as they hadn't seen Phil before. Interactions were becoming easier with time or a state of the ghost's mind.

- But how can we fix...- Tubbos eyes suddenly laid on held strings.- His guitar-

- Of course!- Tommy smiled widely, jumping onto his feet in excitement.- If we repair his guitar, we'll fix him a little bit too!-

- Yeah!- boys bolted out of the room, almost crushing each other in the entrance, trying to get to Tubbo's bedroom first. Tommy, being bigger and taller made it first but had to wait either way, because he of course didn't have strings. Obviously! Replacing them wasn't as easy at first as they thought - they were rather sharp and wouldn't want to cooperate. Tuning was a nightmare as well... no matter what they did, it always sounded bad. They tried form hearing, at least five different apps, nothing. Nothing worked. After fiddling with it for at least an hour they gave up.

- And now what?- Tubbo groaned, throwing himself onto the bed.- How are we supposed to help Wilbur if we can't even tune his guitar?!-

- It sucks man... it's a lost cause- Tommy layed down as well, pouting. Man, they were so close... they helped Phil so why weren't they able to help Wilbur? Fucking fate...

- Ḯ̵̦͉̻̟̦̫̈́͜ ̸̪̯̱̭͓̗͓̞͚͓͙̉̈́͂̊̚w̵͚͕͓̭̗̮̙̐̈́̽̃̀̉́͗̈́͆͝ơ̵̙̜͇̬͚̙̪̰̱͚̯̥̓͛̈́̏̿̊͗͑͛͝ǔ̷̝̲͇̺͓͉͚̯͇l̸̼̱̔̑̅́̿̌ḑ̴̫̔̋̌̆̏̒̽͝n̵̥͙̭̺̖̺̤̜̾͂̃̕'̷̨̹̤̦̟͇̙̊͌͆ṱ̸̨̺͚̜̥̟͕̞̜͗̆ͅͅ ̸̝̒̂̾̈́̽̿̔̌̀̚̚͜t̶̢̨̛͓̣̳̭̜̖̝̠̗̓̒̅̂̍͒̉͑ḩ̸̨̜̠͙̮̟̩̭̃̈̃̔̓̒i̸̦͎͙̽̎̋̆́̒̆͠n̸̢̪̥̱͔̬͓̮̜̼̖̦͛͂͗́̂̓̌̐̔̽̒̆̐k̵̢̰̟̬̲̦̻̔̏̽ ̶̠̻̠̳̠̠̽͛͌͗̈́̕̚ļ̸̰̩͖͚͎͚̹͕͉̏i̸̼͖͎͎̠̲̰̬̗̋͛̽̅͜͝͝ͅķ̵̧̣́é̶̩̱̩͕̰͉̱̼̝͙̜̥̌͋͑͆̓̍͋̓͊͜͝ ̴̨̛͍̩̺̌͒̀́́́̂̂t̴͔̳̝̕h̴̪̖͉̣̆̐̏͂̓̽à̶̜͔̥̭̮̣͉̉͛̍t̴̢͕̣̪̀̃̚ͅ ̶̼͔̮̱̟͛͐̕į̴̡̙̪͖̳̩̜̣͈͖͊͐̌̅ǹ̷̨̧̦̦̥͈̠̺̀̂̿̾̉̌̄͝ ̸̧̱̠̗̖̗͎̼̆̔̇͂̕͝y̶̗̯̟̞͚͕̩̣͕͐ơ̸̡̛͓̜̺̺̺͖̜̼̳̓̃̀̒́̍̇̌̓͜͝ư̴̫̰̳͙̟̬͈̘̠̜͓͔͑͗̄̀́͝ͅr̴̢̢̠͙̺͉̝̺͖̖̗̍̆͆̈́̋̑́͑̚͝͝ ̷͚̫̙̄p̵̞̲̼̫͈͍̹̗͙͙̤̣̲̎͋̓̍̆͋̂̋l̴͇͔̥̤̪͎̠̉̋̈́͊̃͐̃̏̊̿͛̽͘a̷̭̭͉̼̜̞̗͎͗̐̚̚͜c̵̢̢̨̛͇̝̝̣̦̗̹̠͉̒̄͐̎̒̾̄̈́̋͘̕ȩ̵̡̱͕͖̦̰̒̏-

It wasn't Phil's voice.

- Yes, I think you did a pretty good job- THIS was Phil's voice. But if it wasn't him then...

- Wilbur?-

- T̷̡̡̢̺̯̘̫̘̣̝̝̼̜̑̈́͗͊̅̑̉͋̋̒̚͝͠h̶̹̮͚͇͇̀̃̏̾͗̿́̓̾̄͘a̷̖̖̜̼̗͜͜͝ͅṋ̶̡̡͐́͗k̴̮͔͔̰͐̐̐̒̆̾̈́̽̎̐͘͝ ̵̡̡̧͍̰͈̭̝͖̝̤̘̐̒̉̌͋͐ỷ̷̻̘͍̘͈͖̔͜ȏ̸̧̖̟̬̪̣̰̜̳̗̰͈͓̔͒̌ų̸̟̻̻͔̄̃͛̈́̈́̈́̆̚͝ ̸͓̭̖̣̝͙͑̈́̓̌͛̆͗̇̽̅̊̊̚f̷̨̢̝͎̳̦̤̲̩͍̣̰́̋̑̔̿̾͑̊͘͠ȯ̷̧͕͍͓͓̙̦̫̖͋͂́́̋̔͆̓͐r̵̛̖̘͍̹̟̙̳͔̔̄̎̇̇̓́͆͂̈́͘ ̴̛͈̥͇̱̠̭̞̰̋̊̓͛̐̓͠r̷̡͈̟̠̜̣͇͖̬̼̙͖͎̽̿̀̈́̓̄̃̐̒͘e̷̡̞̻͈̞͖̝͂̓̓̄͋̏͑͠͝͝t̵͕͓̹͍̤̤͇͉̰̹͇̬͊̾͘ͅu̸̢͓̟͙̰̯̹͖̳̮̪̗̥͑̉̒̕r̷̝̫͉̈́̾̂̍͆̏̚n̵̟͇̖͎̭͎̿ī̴͓͝ń̶̮͔̯̖͉̗̮̮̻̺g̷̣͚̺̭̩̿̐̽̏͑̂̽̄̿͜͝ ̸̩̺̊̋̆̈m̷͕̯̟̝̞̙͙͖̫̽̄͗̈́͊̀̆͜͜y̸͎̻̩̆̍͂͊͂͐̆̒̕͝ ̴̢̡̫͇̖͍̞͔̥͂̓́̆̈v̵̧͈̭͂̒ͅỏ̶͇̻̿͒̋͛̎́̉͘̚͝ͅi̵͕͎͓̖̗̳̖̽̐̇͆͗̎̈́̓͜ç̷̡̻̯͎̫̣̘̒̌̉̑̿ȩ̶̮̹̳̫̭̬̫̥͖́̀̌̈̽̊̒́ͅ-

- Wilbur wasn't able to talk at all because of that broken string- Phil explained, sitting next to boys and ruffling their hair.- And when you replaced it, it gave him the ability to speak again. It's not perfect, but still better than nothing-

- So we helped after all?!- Tommy smiled in disbelief, but Phil chuckled softly.

- Yes, you did. And you did a splendid job-

- But what about tuning?- Tubbo couldn't understand. They weren't able to finish the job, so why was Wilbur better?

- Ȯ̵̢̟͕͈̕ṇ̵͘l̵̼̑̽͘ͅỷ̴̨̠͖͘ ̴̡̤̯͋̒I̵̡̞̣̊̒̐͝ ̷͚̏͜k̸͍̞̍n̷̨̡̲̞̑ǫ̶̠̀͆̀ŵ̵̨̛̰͙ ̸̬̮̭͍̂̂̒̏ḫ̷͈͎̳̍̎̈́͂ō̵̹̋͝w̸͙̮̎́́ ̶̯̏̾ť̶͇̑́̚o̸͔̤͋̌͠ ̶̮͖͇̋́p̴̢̩͈̊̈͜r̶̭͊͆͋͝ő̷͇̪͇̹͋͊̀p̷̗̭̳̔͐̊͝ę̴̳̯͇̇̎̀̀r̶͇̥̗̘̈́̑͗l̵̖͇͐̈́ẙ̴̺̆͠ ̷̣̓̐̀̊t̸͎͈͓̍̍̽̚u̶̜͒n̷̛̛̦̜͔̩ẻ̶̲ ̵̻̎̐̚t̸̳͙̓̓h̵̻̝̾͝i̴̬̋̈́̌̆s̶̤̊̀̌̒ ̵͚̑̓ǵ̵̹̱̍̈́ų̵̝̼̊̅͛i̸͙͚̞̳̋̏ţ̷̠̹́̆͠a̵̡͔̝͉̿̓̂̒r̴̞̫̈́.̶̡̙͇͈̋̕͠ ̸̬̔́̏͝Ì̸̳̕t̵͖͓̗̄͌̾͝ ̷̮̫̽̅̾̽h̵̢̿̊͆̾a̸̳͋̀̒s̴̜̠̀̏̋ ̸̧̫͍̒̒a̶̯̝̓̃ͅ ̵͔̈́l̶̤̠̣̭̎í̵ͅt̷̺͙̻̤̔̓͗̊t̶͎̯̆̔l̷̈́̀͜ę̷̜̅̎̆̀ ̸͎̗͐̽́͝d̴̻̭̼͐e̴͕̠͂́f̸̯̱͋͒ͅȩ̷̤̼̣́̇͝ć̵͚̹̭t̸͚͛͑- Wilbur stated, taking his belonging from Tubbo. He fiddled with the pegs for a while, twisting it in different positions and slowly trying every string on their own.- Į̸̿̀ ̵̥̖̖͔͒͂̉̚m̵͍͒̈́i̸̢͕͚̯̿͊̔s̴̲̰̝̾̅̏͜ș̶͎͕̑̈́̐̓e̸̥̜̪͗́̕d̸͔̺̘́ ̴̢̹̮̗̐ḭ̸̹̠͝t̷͍̱͉͌̅.̴͍̬̖̕.̴̡̨̩͛.̶͎̳̮̺͛̐͋ ̶̫͔̟̤̚Ĭ̵̗͈̲ͅ ̸̜̌͌m̷͔̪͝ĭ̸̼̭͚̣̇͂͠s̷̞̝̘͙̔̈́̽s̶͖͔̤͌̈́e̸̛̯ď̸̛͙̈́̈́ͅ ̶͉̞̅i̴̻͍̻̝͂̿̋̕ṭ̶̖̙̲͊̂̚ ̴̫̫͊̾s̶͔͚͜͝o̸̠̱̒̕ ̴̩̠̻̺̌͂̂m̷̰̟̠̿̐̊͝ư̵̠̾̅c̷̠̯̞̄̈h̷̡̲̰̄̾͝.̵̹̬͖̈́͠.̶̫͕̘̀̀͠.-

- You remembered about it?- but Wilbur didn't answer, as he stopped vibrating strings with his hand. And then he started playing, slowly and carefully, trying every single acord. It was a practice, but it still sounded amazing... Tommy and Tubbo stared at the guitar with amazement as Wilbur started trying out slightly more complicated melodies or riffs, creating chaotic, yet still melodious pieces. Phil only smiled, memories flooding through him. Yes... Wilbur wrote music for them to play together. It was a wonderful time, full of love and laughter. The three of them together, creating something beautiful. But who played the fiddles...

Techno.

Techno played the violin. He took it up just for Wilbur in primary school. Phil remembered.

He remembered.

Hearing faint music woke up the beast. Since that boy came downstairs and touched HIS sword, he couldn't sleep well. He had those blasted visions playing in his head, over and over again. This curly haired boy laughing and saying something, a blonde man smiling warmly and picking them up. Who were they, why were they haunting him?! Ever since he saw that man upstairs he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't alone before. HE was SOMEONE before!

But who?

Tears were running down his cheeks, soaking into his hair. What was this? Why was he hurting inside? He was empty for so long... why can't he remain like this...

D̸͓̲͂̄̿̇̔̑͝ǎ̶̠̠̪͓̬͕̤͖̙͇́̄̄̍̓͠d̸̟͙͈̬͈̐̒̓͗̀...̶̢̨̖͎̺͕̮̖̫̽̃̈̈͂̓̀̏̚ ̸̱͔̰̉d̷̢̪̪̯̝̂̂̚ä̷͉͚́͑̔́̔̆́̀͂̅͘ḋ̵̹͎̞̞̯̱̬̘͚̟̫̰̊͐̾̀̑̾̈́͘͠͠...̵̖̦͉̺͔͚͈͙̺̫̳̅̃̎͂̐́̊̅͋̕͝͝ͅ ̴̭̗͇͓̯̮̰͎̅ͅp̴̧͉̟͔̏l̷̢̘͍͉͍͇͗͒̀̽e̵͚̞̟̟̟͎͉̣̳̦̾̾͌̏͝ä̵̧̨̡̠̞̲̲́͐̆͋͌̿̆̏͗͆̎ͅs̶̥͓̄̏̍̃͗͐̂̀̅͗̓ͅe̶̢̢̱̲̝̦̹̳̱͇̹̪͛̆͆̔̀̆̓̒̒͝...̸͎̹̺͍̦̒ͅ ̷̢̖̻͈͈͇̲͕̥̣͓̽̌̚ḧ̶̨̤̬̠͚̖́̓̔̂͜͝ͅę̸̜͉̳͖͉͉̙̙̠̊͋̊̓l̸̰̠̰̀͆̐͛̾̈́͛͌͛̑̏p̵̧̤̪͛̈́̍́̽̕͝ ̷̡̡̬̤̲̐̆̑̂̓̚m̶͍̠̮̹̹̏̀ë̷̲̓̃̌̂̔̒̚͝...̵̢̖͈̰͆̚͝ ̵̧͖̹͉̭̇̽ḯ̵̛̝̾̏͛̽͗̀͐̊̀̍́t̸̢̪͈̭̳̟̓ͅ ̶̢͈͚̩̟̫̙̲̼͓͕̍̂̈́͒́̊̒̓͂̂̓̕͠h̵̠͔̫̃͗̂̈́̋͒͘͠ư̶̢̦͋̌́͛̏̃̂̑ŗ̵̛̬̻̘̌̀̀̑̔͒́͌͘ț̵̡̼̊̇̉̔̒̓͌̈ş̴̛̘̻͔̝͓̳̯̐̂̈́̅͋͆̊̔̌̈́̅.̷̢͚̝̋̎͊̆̂̐̎̕.̷̨̢̜̤͎̹̹̥̝̌̐͜.̷̛̛͈͎͙̑̋͌͑̿͒̕͘͝͝

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Updates from now on will not be so frequent, but I'll try. For now I'm trying to figure out when to do what as I have a few ideas. But if you want to add something from yourself feel free to suggest. We'll see what we can do with it (•‾⌣‾•)