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Wilbur groaned as he and Dash set their backpacks by the front door. He had homework, hours of it, and it was a Friday. He so did not want to have to plan around the next project due.
Still, it being Friday, he knew he could put it off for a few hours, at least.
He and Dash walked into the kitchen, and Dash offered the idea of browsing Netflix for a while. It seemed like a good idea, provided there were snacks involved.
Soon enough he and Dash sat in front of the TV and browsed through the selection of shows and movies. Unfortunately, not a lot of their interests lined up. Wilbur preferred crime shows while Dash preferred action cartoons, and there wasn't a lot between the two. Heaven forbid they compromise on anything, either.
Still, they managed to kill a few hours without killing each other, and decided to bring their empty snack bowls to the kitchen to see what was for dinner. Their mother had already begun to cook spaghetti, and at that point Wilbur realized he'd barely seen her or their dad.
"You and Dad have been awfully quiet." He raised a brow as he rinsed the bowl and set it aside to dry. Dash followed after him and said something in agreement.
Helen smiled as she looked up from the pan and shrugged. "We've been talking. Adult stuff and all."
Dash eyed the sauce in the pan. "I think we could get another episode of Okie Dokey Kody in before dinner."
Wilbur agreed with his time estimate and nodded, but Helen stopped him.
"Vi? I want to talk to you, actually. Alone." Those words alone were enough to send a shock of dread down Wilbur's back. Having a Mom Talk was never pleasant, especially since she never chickened out half way through like dad did. He wondered what he had done to warrant such a talk when he spied a familiar assignment on the kitchen counter on the other side of her.
An assignment that had Wilbur Parr written on it instead of Violet.
"Ooooh, Violet's in trouble!" He reached behind him and swatted at Dash, but missed by a mile. "What did you do? Mom, is Violet grounded?"
"Traitor." Wilbur hissed under his breath as Dash dashed by and stood at their mother's side. Dash only stuck his tongue out at him.
Helen chuckled. "No, Violet's not grounded. Is your room clean? I'm checking after dinner."
Dash groaned and zipped away before Helen could say anything else. She shook her head and huffed, but didn't bother calling after him.
Meanwhile, Wilbur stared down in numb horror at the assignment in front of him. A cold sweat broke out across his back as he grimaced and glanced up at his mom. He didn't know what he expected--was he in trouble? Maybe he could pass it off as a phase, or a joke. Yeah, just a nickname, surely that would appease her and not make her ask questions.
He was more worried about how she had found it. He knew his parents never went into his room randomly, and wouldn't unless they had good reason. He had probably left it out at some point and had just forgotten that it had Wilbur written on it instead of Violet. Only some of his teachers had encouraged his 'nickname', so there were only a few assignments that could have been suspicious. She had just happened to find one of them.
Thankfully, Helen seemed to be preoccupied with dinner while he internally (and externally) sweated over the problem. It was certainly on purpose, to help him feel more relaxed, but he couldn't help but think that made him even more anxious.
Helen, unsure of what to do, stirred the pasta sauce for a solid fifteen seconds before she glanced over at him. "So... How's school going?"
He knew she wanted to ask right away what was up, and she wanted an answer, but a gnawing in his stomach made his mouth feel dry. He could trust his mom, he knew he could trust his mom. But it was just so hard for him to find the words that he wanted to say. It was only a small seed of fear in his mind, but it was enough to turn his stomach inside out.
"Vi," Helen sighed as she stared at the pan, "You're not in trouble. I just want to know what's going on, okay? I want to be able to talk about anything that's bothering you. Anything."
He shrugged and crossed his arms. "I dunno. It's nothing, really."
He stared down at his muddy converse and fiddled with the drawstrings of his hoodie. He had been so proud of his outfit that morning (it was a lot more masculine than he usually wore, and he had even tucked his hair into a beanie) but just then he only wanted to be invisible. He considered just walking away, but he didn't know when he'd get the chance to be open again. He couldn't... He couldn't start the conversation on his own. It was just unfortunate that he couldn't seem to finish it on his own, either.
His mom was quiet for another minute, and he thought she might let him go. He didn't know what to say as his heart pounded in his chest and he licked his lips. He wanted to tell her--he could tell her--he couldn't speak. He leaned against the counter and looked anywhere but at his mother.
Helen drained the noodles before she spoke again. She faced away from him and poured the noodles into a bowl. "Karen said, once, that she always doubts herself." She flipped off the stove and Wilbur wiggled his shaking fingers. "She said that even in situations where she feels safe, it's hard for her to talk about her experiences."
Yeah, he could relate.
"I feel that way too, sometimes." His mother continued, and he frowned. "I'm bisexual. I know how hard it can be. Maybe I don't know what you or her experience exactly, but I know it's tough. It's scary."
He watched, fascinated, as she popped some garlic bread into the oven. "I didn't know that. How come you never talk about it?"
He didn't fault her for it, of course. He was sure she had her reasons, but he was certainly curious.
He couldn't see her frown with her back to him. When she turned and looked at him again, finally, she had a sad smile on her face. "Well... I guess, really, my life has become all about you guys. Not that it's a bad thing, it's not. It's just a fact. I mean, I'm still bi, and I always will be. But sometimes things just get put on the back burner."
He nodded. Still, he wanted to encourage her to talk about it more. Maybe she did have more in common with him than he thought.
He obediently took the plates and silverware she set on the counter and moved to set them at their places. In the silence he realized his heartbeat had faded, finally, and he could think much more clearly.
Was there a chance she would be upset? Maybe. A small one. But there was a larger chance that she would be okay with it. She would accept him. He thought about what that would mean, in the long run. He could tell them when he was a boy. He might even be able to change his name, if he wanted to. In all honesty he wasn't sure on that part yet, but he could.
They would support him. He knew he already had Karen's unspoken support in any situation, but then he could expand it to the rest of his family. The thought was terrifying, actually, because he still felt scared at the idea of people knowing. But, still... It was... A nice thought. Maybe he could do this.
He sighed as he set the last plate down and turned back towards his mom. She caught him in a hug, suddenly, and he reluctantly returned it.
"You don't have to tell me anything." Her voice was soft and warm, and Wilbur felt bad for doubting her. "I want you to be able to talk on your own terms. I know it's important. I just want to... Invite the conversation."
He laughed softly at that. It was such a mom thing to say. He tightened his grip around her and she did the same as he took in a breath.
"I, uh..." He struggled to find the words as he pulled back. He looked anywhere but at her, and she waited patiently for his answer. He couldn't help but worry about the spaghetti getting cold on the counter, but that was a lesser problem. "I've been going by Wilbur at school. Just in a few classes, but, uh... I like it better?" He looked up with her, unsure of himself, but found she only nodded and gave him her full attention.
"I think I'm genderfluid. Sometimes I'm just... A boy? But lately I've felt better being Wilbur." He hoped it made sense. He didn't know how much she knew, how much she would want to know, or what she thought of it. Still, it felt better to finally get the words out. Even if they were clunky, and even if his hands still shook, he had said it.
"Oh, honey," He found himself wrapped in another hug, even tighter than before, "That's completely okay. Entirely."
He deflated in relief and blinked away tears. He had managed to make it that long without crying, and he wasn't about to start then. It was okay. His arms felt heavy from the anxiety that still coursed through them, but it was okay.
"Do you wan't us to call you Wilbur? Even if it's just for a little bit, we can do that. And he/him?"
At that point he felt good enough to laugh. "Okay, now you sound like Karen. Congrats." They both laughed at that, not bothered by the comparison. "And... Yes to both. I..." He wasn't sure what else to say, really. It felt like he had so much left to say, and yet nothing at all.
Helen saw him struggle and just smiled. "Okay! Not a problem at all. We can do that, effective immediately. Assuming you want to tell the others...?"
She left it open ended and he grimaced a bit. Still, if she had faith, so did he. He could tell Dad and Dash, and she would be there with him.
"Might as well," He shrugged, "They'll just cry over being left out, if not."
Helen chuckled and ruffled his beanie gently. "Well said, indeed."
Later, after a dinner that was entirely too stressful for Wilbur's tastes (he hadn't said anything, so neither had his mom), he sat perched on the edge of the couch. To his right sad his parents, and on the floor sat Dash and Jack-Jack. Jack-Jack babbled happily from his position in Dash's lap, and Wilbur saw the smile Dash tried to hide as they played.
His mom sent him a look that was calm and determined, and he mimicked the feeling. He could do this. It was just Dad and Dash. Bob Parr was far from a bigoted man--easily confused, sure, but that didn't always mean bigoted.
"I've been going by Wilbur at school." He knew his dad knew that part, but Dash didn't. Well, neither did Jack-Jack, but he was more there for moral support. Wilbur scratched the back of his neck, still not entirely comfortable with the words he had to say to get his point across. "I'm genderfluid, so my gender changes sometimes? And lately I've been, well... A boy."
"That happens?" Dash's eyes grew wide, "Gender machine broke."
Wilbur snorted at the unexpected comment, and Bob busted out laughing as well. Helen, for her part, covered her mouth with a hand and shushed him. "Dash, be nice."
"That was pretty funny." Wilbur offered, honestly amused. He hated that Dash was actually as funny as he thought he was, but that was a different conversation.
"So--" Bob turned back to the conversation, a ghost of a grin on his face alongside mild confusion, "What does that mean, for us? I assume your mother already gave you the 'we support you' shtick."
Helen gently bopped his arm and muttered, "It's not a 'schtick'." But Dash nodded in sympathy.
"Well." He shifted uncomfortably, uncertain again. It seemed like an inconvenience to them, to ask them to change his name and pronouns. The last thing he wanted was for him to think he was being silly, or that he was wrong, somehow.
"Wilbur." His mother prodded gently, and the sound of his name took him by surprise.
Dash chimed in, too. "That's not the worst name you could have picked." And really, that might as well have been the best compliment in the world coming from Dash.
"I'd--Like to go by Wilbur. At least for now? And use he/him pronouns." He glanced at his mom again, who smiled.
"Absolutely." Bob nodded, "Not a problem at all. Just let us know when it changes, okay?"
He nodded, enthusiastic. It was finally real. More than just the kids at school knew, more than just Karen knew (okay so, she only knew some of it. But it was a start!) and, most importantly, his support group knew. That was... Huge. Huge.
"You know what, I think this calls for sundaes. I'll get everything ready." Helen and Bob exchanged a look.
"I'll help!" Bob added cheerfully, thankfully picking up whatever message Helen had put down. He picked up Jack-Jack from Dash's arms, and the three headed to the kitchen.
Wilbur was about to head after them when Dash spoke up.
"So, you're like Karen, right?"
"Yeah. Kind of the opposite, I guess, but like her."
He didn't know what Dash was thinking, but he waited patiently for him to connect whatever dots he saw. Dash was smart, undoubtedly so. Wilbur knew that anything he would ask, and anything he wanted to know, would be from a place of wanting to understand.
"Does she know?"
"She knows I was questioning. I still have to update her on the final result, but... Yeah, she was the first person I went to." That had been an awkward conversation, but thankfully Karen was just as awkward as him. It ran in the family, as he liked to joke.
Dash nodded, seemingly appeased by his answer. "Cool. I was just thinking, like, I dunno much about this stuff, but it seemed like it would be good for her to know. If you wanted to tell her, I guess."
Wilbur stared for a minute before his smile widened into a grin. "Yeah, I get what you're saying. I agree."
They smiled at each other for a minute, a rare moment of sibling bonded glimpsed only momentarily in their years alive, before they heard a call from the kitchen.
"Boys! Ice cream's melting!"
Wilbur was caught so off guard that Dash managed to zip by him, just barely managing to miss hitting his legs in the process.
(There was a loud thud as Dash proceeded to run full-body into a force field, and suddenly everything was back to normal.)