Nov 16 - Blog Posts

He made wilbur stay in the viewing platform to witness his suicide and the destruction of what they had made together. He made him philza, the pressure plate the button, to prove a point. To defuse the bomb, wilbur. Holy fucking shit

catharsis

Will is a little nervous, coming in this room. Again. It’s always a different mix of emotions, but some key ingredients are the same: thrill, anticipation, sadness. This time the cocktail is a true masterpiece: thrill, anticipation, conviction, confidence, only a drop of sadness. The only really new ingredient in all of this is fear, and it kind of ties it all together, adds the needed spice to the mix. Will lingers for a bit, analyzing the taste of the imaginary cocktail. There’s something else. Just… a dash of uncertainty. It’s not about the act, but it’s in the air, ruining his experience. What a shame.

“Will. What are you doing?”

Phil’s voice sounds so, so familiar. Maybe decades ago he said this exact phrase in this exact tone, when Will was stealing something from the kitchen. Weird how some things don’t change. 

Will is glad to hear his voice. It means that it all goes according to plan. It means that he won’t leave this room. The uncertainty is gone. 

Will is deafened by the sound of the explosion, his breath is heavy and uneven, partially because of excitement, partially because the air is filled with dust, but right there, right then, he has a moment of absolute clarity. It all makes sense to him, all of his questions have answers, he comes up with a name for his cocktail — “catharsis”. It has a wonderful sweet aftertaste of satisfaction. 

There’s only one more thing to do. Will has done it a thousand times before, especially when Phil would catch him doing something he “shouldn’t be doing”. Ask nicely. Phil is surprisingly bad at saying “no”.

Weird how some things don’t change.