Chapter Text
III
He keeps a close eye on the Wilbur and the Techno.
Following the Wilbur is easier than the other, who catches onto his rustling too easily. Techno is always carrying one of those sun-sticks, which always burns his eyes. He learned quickly to steer clear of him.
Wilbur, however, was easy to follow.
He nestled in the grass behind the strange sleeping nest. He ached to get inside of it, but the nest was never clear when he needed it to be.
Wilbur had stepped out of it once in the night - screaming, and he had almost taken off running out of fear before he remembered he wasn't scared of anything.
He came back soon enough and went back to sleep.
This time, the Wilbur and the others had fallen silent in their slumber.
And he, the boy stuck between human and something less than, had sprung into action.
--
Wilbur has more reasons on why Phil’s summer camp is the most horrific way to spend his summer than he does fingers on his hand.
The morning’s call - Bad’s scratchy voice, he recognizes, is hollering, “Reveille!” over and over again.
He has never been a morning person. Sleep never comes easy to him (last night especially), and the waking hour during camp is right at six o’clock.
As quickly as Wilbur’s eyes had finally drifted to a peaceful close, the familiar screeching of the firewatch’s reveille call. He shoots up in his bed with a startle only to immediately cover his forehead with a pained sigh. If he had been at home, he would’ve rolled right back over and gone back to sleep.
Unfortunately for Wilbur, he wasn’t quite that lucky.
He isn’t the only one pissed off at the early morning’s call. At his side, Sapnap rolls over in his sleeping bag. There’s a stuffed animal pressed under his chin where a pillow would normally be, but he doesn’t have one.
“Five more minutes,” Sapnap sleepily yawns.
“Wake up!” a voice outside the tent calls. A hand slaps against the outside of the fabric, and Sapnap downright screeches in response. Wilbur watches warily as he’s not yet fully awake, and George suddenly scrambles forward to unzip the tent.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” George seethes.
“George, you’re on my toes,” Sapnap groans, curling up under his bag.
“We have PT this morning, so everyone needs to get dressed!”
“PT?” George echoes.
Wilbur releases a sigh. Yet another downside to Phil’s summer camp is the daily requirement for exercise. As their camp group has a military affiliation, they have a couple of requirements to cover to keep their government funding, which is how Phil gets the food for the trip.
“Yup, a three mile run!” Bad chirps. “So get ready because Phil says we’re lining up for stretches in five minutes.”
The bearer of bad news leaves as quickly as he arrives.
Wilbur rubs at his face furiously before finally forcing himself to sit up. The distant calling outside only spurs him on.
“I gotta piss,” George announces suddenly. The tent is quiet until a loud slap echoes - quickly followed by a hissed, “Ye-owuch!” from Sapnap.
“Well, come on,” George continues. “Be my battle buddy, will you?”
Ah, right, Phil’s stupid ass rule. It’s a safety thing he picked up from the military, and as their camp is a mock military group, it’s a habit he enforces rather seriously.
“I’ll go,” Wilbur pipes up. George makes an awkward face, frowning, before Sapnap suddenly bursts into laughter. No words are spoken, only cheeky glances shot between friends, and it leaves Wilbur feeling quite cold.
“Go piss, girl!” Dream sings, clasping his hands together. They holler after George as he steps outside of the tent. Wilbur huffs under his breath before slipping outside too.
The sun had yet to properly rise. He hadn’t put his watch back on, but if he had to guess, it must be a little after five a.m. They usually woke at six, but it must be early if the sun hadn’t even come out to play yet.
“I’m gonna piss my pants if you don’t fucking hurry up,” George grumbles. He wraps his arms around himself in a tight hug as Wilbur stumbles forward. The grass, wet with the morning dew, tickles his barefeet in an unpleasant sensation. He hadn’t had time to grab his socks, but he doesn’t dare popping back inside for them. Instead, he reaches for the tennis shoe he had left outside to dry after getting it wet in the creek the day before. He slips on the left before noticing the other was nowhere in sight.
“Dude.” George is huffing again.
Wilbur clears his throat.
“I… I can’t find my shoe.” He lifts up the latch of the tent where the shoes are supposed to be stored. It’s nowhere to be found. “Oh my god, it’s just gone.”
George suddenly slaps the side of the tent. “Dreaaaaaam, come be my battle buddy,” he whines. Wilbur flushes but continues searching for his shoes. His embarrassment only triples when Sapnap hollers back at him through the tent wall.
“Oh, Dream, I can’t go piss by my--Yeouch-- why is everyone hitting me?!” There’s a muffled snort on the inside of the tent.
“I hate all of you,” George repeats, dropping his shoulders in anguish.
“I’m really sorry, George, but my shoe’s just--”
“I really don’t care, Wilbur.” Cold eyes meet Wilbur’s. George isn’t a bully, not like how Dream is. He’s… apathetic. Wilbur isn’t really sure if George cares about anything, really. In the time he’s known him - a long, long time (they were in preschool together), he’s never seen him have a drive for anything. Anything except taking a nap.
“I thought we were past losing shit like pre-schoolers, is all,” George says. “You’d think we’re too old for that.” It’s quiet for a moment before George suddenly calls out, “Punz! Be my piss buddy!” He’s stomping off before Wilbur can even speak.
With George gone, he returns to sansacking the area for his shoe. He zips back open the tent just as Dream and Sapnap are stepping out.
“Have you…” Dream immediately starts laughing. Wilbur clamps his mouth shut and moves to the side to make room for Dream as he bursts through the opening.
“What a look, Wilbur,” Dream snorts.
His cheeks burn. “Dream. Have you seen my shoe or not?”
“I don’t know, I’m not you. I don’t have a foot fetish,” Dream says, covering his mouth as he laughs at his own joke.
“Dude, I bet--”
Wilbur drowns both of them out as he drops to his knees on top of his sleeping bag.
Doesn’t even make any sense, he thinks to himself before tugging his backpack towards himself. He reaches in to find his shoe, but there’s no sign of the damn thing.
“Roll call!” he hears Phil yell in the distance.
Fuck, he thinks bitterly. If he missed morning PT because he couldn’t find his goddamn shoe of all things, he’d never hear the end of it. He checks his sleeping bag once, twice, three times before a sneaking suspicion crawls up his spine.
George and Dream had acted weird when he said he couldn’t find it. They’re --
There’s no way he’d steal his shoe, is there?
Wilbur pauses in his trance. They’re highschoolers for fuck’s sake. He doesn’t want to believe that one of them would steal his shoe, but what else is he supposed to believe? After all, last night they dumped bugs in his sleeping bag.
“Wilbur!” It’s Kristin this time. She’s hollering at full volume.
He chews on his lip before popping out of the tent.
“Come on, you should be dressed already!” Phil calls, cupping his hands around his mouth.
“I…” His cheeks burn. Everyone’s staring at him.
He wants to look away, to disappear, because not a single person is sparing him a glance. He casts his eyes out on the group that is already lined up to workout. His heart skips when he notices the one person who’s been nice to him has her head cocked at his shoeless foot. Even Techno looks confused at Niki’s side.
“I can’t find my shoe,” Wilbur admits rather lamely.
…The kids break out into hysterics.
“Well, we can’t wait on you. Dream, lead us in stretches?” Wilbur slumps as Dream jumps out of line to stand next to him.
“Alright, bitches, starting positions, move!”
Wilbur ignores the chorus of replies Dream gets in return for circling his tent. He’s starting to think it must’ve vanished, but to tell the truth, someone must’ve stashed it. But where would Dream stash it?
Gradually, the sun begins to rise. The dark pit of woods behind the tent starts to brighten little by little. The dewdrops on the blades of grass glisten under the early sunlight, and the air slowly warms up around him. When he exhales out of another pained failure of not finding his shoe, it’s visible.
Then, he spots it.
A couple feet back in the woods, his tennis shoe sits on top of a rock like it’d been set there deliberately. He huffs under his breath before rushing towards it, quickly snatching it off the rock. Upon touching it though, he shrinks back at how soaked it was.
“What the fuck?” he hisses under his breath. The shoe is soaked much more than the simple morning dew would’ve caused. He experimentally brings it up to his nose only to gag at the horrid stench emanating from it. He gags, doubling over in the grass at the disgusting but clear smell of piss.
Rat piss, it smells like.
Wilbur almost throws up.
“What are you doing over in the forest?” Phil calls. Wilbur tosses a frustrated glance over his shoulder. “Wilbur!”
Wilbur stops in his tracks.
Dream, at Phil’s side, has his head cocked in an obvious smile. Phil is lazer focused on Wilbur - oblivious to the shit eating grin of the “model” cadet next to him. His glare only hardens at the taunt, and Phil beckons him to hurry up.
For a moment, Wilbur thinks about smacking Dream.
It’s clear that he did this, stole his shoe in the middle of the night (possibly when he was getting eaten alive by ants and all the other creepy crawlies hiding away in his sleeping bad), and stashed it out in the forest. It stinks, and he doesn’t know if he hopes it’s an animal that pissed on it or not. The alternative doesn’t sound much better, either.
But if Wilbur smacks Dream, if he confronts him right now, he’d win. Wilbur would only look like an idiot.
…He only has one choice, really.
Wilbur lifts up the disgusting shoe and he slips it on.
The sole squishes as he catches up with the others.
-
After they finish the run - Phil making him do extra push-ups as punishment for being late, they hit the showers. Kristin takes the few girl cadets to the other showers across the camp site, and Phil takes the majority of the group towards the boys’ showers.
He sits outside in the golf cart, the one he keeps on site to get around in case of an emergency. Techno’s sat next to him with a lollipop sticking out of his mouth.
“I don’t know how that’s still in tact,” Phil is saying when Wilbur stumbles up to them. Phil smiles and pats down on the seat next to him. Wilbur quickly climbs in, desperate for any human confrontation that won’t end in a sadistic smile being thrown his way.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Techno hums around the candy.
“What he means is that you’ll get bugs,” Wilbur offers, reaching over to snatch the candy out of Techno’s mouth. Techno is prepared for the sudden movement, and he throws a hand up in his face.
“No, I bug-proofed my stash,” Techno bites back.
“Oh, a stash, huh?” Phil says, breaking out into a pained sigh. “Your tent mates are gonna hate you once you get infested.”
I’d know what that’s like, Wilbur thinks bitterly. It’s an evil thought. He hates it and wills it away as soon as it comes.
“Oh, did they get you?” Wilbur is too distracted by the memory of last night to notice Phil suddenly grabbing his arm. It’s a gentle tug and it’s from trusted hands, but the sudden touch causes him to jolt.
Wilbur shoots him a confused glance, but his expression fades when he notices the concern laced in Phil’s sorrowful eyes.
“Oh, they got you bad, kiddo,” Phil coos, and it makes Wilbur feel sick how kind his father can be. He feels embarrassed as he coddles him when he knows he doesn’t deserve it. He turns his head to the side. “...Did you sneak in candy, too?”
“What? No.” As painful as the memory burns at him, he can’t help but snort at the accusation.
“It’s okay if you did,” Techno whispers. “He can’t ground both of us.”
“I can’t really ground either of you when we’re out here,” Phil snickers. “But… I guess I’d let it slide… if you shared it with me.”
“I don’t have any candy, Phil!” Wilbur wheezes, breaking out into a broken laughter. A sudden laugh, more snarling than light, causes him to stop abruptly. He looks up to see Dream shuffling towards the showers with his towel bundled up under his arm.
He stiffens, subconsciously scooting closer towards Phil.
“You must have something bad in the tent, though. You got eaten up so bad,” Phil coos once more. “Here, show me your arm.” He reaches for him, and after staring at Dream, Wilbur suddenly breaks his trance and slaps Phil’s hand away.
His eyes leave Dream’s just in time to catch Phil’s wide blown blue eyes.
“...Wilbur?” The golf cart shifts. Techno is abandoning ship, as he often does when Phil and Wilbur clash heads.
“I… Sorry,” Wilbur admits, voice strained under the effort of keeping it together. “I… forgot to put bug spray on.”
“I have a bug band.” Phil yanks up the medic bag, the one Ponk usually carries but must’ve left it with Phil when she went to go shower. “Here, it’ll help--”
“I’m okay, really,” he snaps, harsher than he meant to. His voice softens as Phil’s blue eyes seem to get bigger. He almost wants to laugh, despite how horrible he feels. Even when he’s pissed at his father and his father’s upset with him, he can always feel the love radiating off of him.
Phil loves him so, so much, and he knows, he knows that he does because he doesn’t snap when Wilbur flinches away from him or when he’s embarrassed. He’s caring and patient and doesn’t press too far. He sits and waits, and he loves. He loves, and it’s more than Wilbur can bare.
He loves, and Wilbur can’t bare it.
“I don’t deserve you,” Wilbur says, and it’s meant to be a joke as he smiles. The words fall off his tongue, and it isn’t a lie.
“Yeah, yeah, come crying back to me when you realize it’s a life saver.” Phil waves the bug band in front of his face. “Go shower now, kid. You stink.”
“Yes, sir,” he chirps, hopping off of the golf cart. As he drags his feet away from Phil, he spares a glance to his marked up arm. Before he can cringe at the amount of bug bites, he yanks the sleeve down.
What Phil doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.
As Wilbur enters the showers only to see Dream standing against the wall with a wicked grin on his face, he only wonders how much he can keep from him.