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Fundy paces back and forth in his room, wrapping his arms around himself. He's so scared. He knows that his dad is supportive, he knows that Wilbur isn't going to freak about about this. But he isn't entirely sure, and that's what scares him. Fundy would like to think that he knows his dad pretty well, that he knows that Wilbur is a good person. That he knows his morals and his beliefs, what he agrees with and what he doesn't. But this topic has never been brought up before, and Fundy is so fucking nervous. He winces when he hears Wilbur's footsteps, looking up at his ceiling. His bedroom is right above Fundy's, and Fundy could have sworn that he'd have a little bit more time to prepare himself for this.
He breathes out, shifting uncomfortably. He looks at himself in his bedroom mirror, wishing that his jawline was a little stronger, that his face was a little sharper. Fundy pushes his hair back, wondering if Wilbur will let him cut it. He wonders if Wilbur will even let him stay here once he tells him. "Hey, uh, dad?" Fundy calls out, wishing that his voice wasn't as high-pitched as it is. "I- can you come here?"
"Yeah, of course," Wilbur responds, his voice coming from the living room. "What's up?" Wilbur doesn't come in. Fundy asked him to stay outside his door so Fundy would tell him when to come in. "Flora? You good?"
Fundy bites down on his lip at the name, his shoulders hunching. That's not his name. "It's..it's Fundy," he whispers. "Dad? I'm not a girl."
A pause.
"Okay," Wilbur doesn't sound angry. "Alright. Can I come in?"
"Y- yeah."
Fundy turns, his ears pressed against his head as he looks at his dad. Wilbur's face is entirely impassive, no hint of what he's actually feeling at all. "Well," Wilbur takes a step forwards, setting his hands on Fundy's shoulders. "You're definitely right. You're not a girl. You're my boy, my son," Wilbur smiles at him, reaching out to ruffle Fundy's hair. "Do you have a different name you want me to call you?" Fundy grins, all of his nerves shattering at once, the panic and unease in his chest disappearing with those words.
"Fundy," he ducks his head, joy bubbling his his heart. "I..thank you."
"Of course," Wilbur laughs, holding out his arms. Fundy crashes into him, resting his head against his dad's shoulder. "You're my kid, Fundy. I'll always love you, you know that. No matter what you are or who you are, I'll always be there for you. I promise. I love you, Fundy. You're my little champion, you know that?"
"Yeah," Fundy grins, letting himself relax. "I know."
Fundy sits at Wilbur's grave, staring down at the flowers he left last time.
"Did you mean it?" He asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "When you told me that I was your champion. Did you mean it?"
Fundy breathes out, scoffing at the lack of response. What did he expect? Wilbur never responds to him. "You're my dad! You were supposed..you had to.." he heaves a sigh. "Fuck you, Wilbur. Fuck you. You took the goddamn easy way out after you ruined everything. Phil wouldn't kill you, so you- you did it yourself, and I-" he feels a tear fall down his face. "I'm so mad at you. I hate you." Fundy stands up, stalking away from his father's grave, without looking back once.
("I did mean it," Wilbur murmurs. "You've always been my little champion."
"I love you," Wilbur says. "No matter what. I'll always love you.")