Chapter Text
Nimble fingers hover over a keyboard, slightly shaky. A loud breath is let out, and hands settle lightly over the keys.
Wilbur stares at his screen, at the open email, for a long moment. He slowly inputs the email address, and puts the subject line simply as one hundred and sixty five. He then begins to type, slowly and carefully.
A hundred and sixty five of these now, huh? Time goes fast. Nearly half a year.
I thought about sending you something last night. Flowers, maybe. I didn’t, though. It was a stupid idea.
I’m meant to be filming a video with you in a day. I don’t know how I’ll keep it together, honestly. It’s getting harder not to let my feelings simply spill out.
It feels like my chest is full of roses, and one of these days it’s just going to burst out. I really don’t know how I’ve held it back this long.
Did I ever tell you about when I realised I was in love with you? We’d finished recording some video- I don’t remember which now, some challenge video I think?- and we were still on call. You made some stupid joke that I shouldn’t have laughed at. I laughed anyway.
That’s what made me realise. That you made me feel things no one else did. A warmth in my heart and a happiness so overwhelming it felt like nothing else in the world mattered.
Do you see why it’s so hard to keep my feelings bottled up? Hidden inside of me like they’re going to ruin my life if I let even a hint of them out.
Maybe one day I’ll manage to stop being scared of how it’ll affect me. Maybe I’ll just let them out.
Or maybe I won’t.
I’ll write again tomorrow. Like I always do.
-Wilbur
He leans back in his chair with a sigh, heavy and laced with emotion. Then Wilbur clicks the button that will send the email into his drafts folder, neatly locking it away. He’s still too much of a pussy to dare to even send a single email.
He started doing this some time back- over six months ago now. Wilbur needed some way to spill out his pent up emotion, and this was the best idea he had.
Now, it only served as a way to make them worse. Everytime he got on call with Schlatt to film some video, his mind would flutter with things he’d written in his email from the night before, and hurled suggestions of what to write in tonight’s one at him.
It was disorienting, made it hard to focus. Maybe some part of Wilbur enjoyed it; he kept coming back to the emails regardless, kept writing them, kept spilling his emotion. Or maybe it was just a form of addiction.
Either way, he keeps coming back, again and again, typing unsent email after unsent email.
*********
Wilbur lets out a sigh, runs a hand through his hair, then plasters a half-fake smile on his face and clicks the call button. Schlatt picks up after three rings, his stupid face and broad smile filling Wilbur’s screen.
“Hey Wilbur!”
Wilbur’s smile widens into something more genuine. “Hey, dude.”
“So, what stupid challenge have you cooked up today?”
Wilbur can hear the fondness in Schlatt’s tone, and his heart skips a beat. “Oh, you’re gonna love it.”
Schlatt groans. “If it’s like one of those water or lava challenges…”
Wilbur grins, leaning towards his camera a little. “Even better.”
“I already hate this.”
“Every five minutes water and lava rise in the world.”
“... So cobblestone?”
“That’s a lot less dramatic, but yes.”
Schlatt groans. “If the cobblestone doesn’t kill you, I will.”
Wilbur laughs, opens the Minecraft world, and leans back in his chair with a smile. He’s relaxing more and more into the call now, but he can’t ever really let his guard down. Not around Schlatt; not with the way Wilbur feels.
But he can have some fun with his friend, and he’s not going to let his emotions ruin this for him. So he eases more into his chair, smiles wider, settles his hands over his keyboard, and gets ready to play.
*********
Subject: 175
Hi again. God, I can’t keep away, can I?
We recorded today. Just us, no live chat or stream to monitor. It was… nice.
I liked getting to be the only to hear your voice, or your laugh. Even if it was just for a bit.
Maybe that’s selfish of me. I don’t know. Either way, I’m addicted to you.
You’re addicting. I can’t get enough of you. It might be the death of me.
I don’t mind the idea of that. But maybe it’d be better to tell you before I explode. Chest full of roses, y’know?
Even if I can pull just one rose free, I’ll be happy.
-Wilbur.
**********
“I like your laugh.”
There’s silence over the call. Wilbur kind of wishes he could stuff that singular rose back into his chest, but it’s too late. All he can do is hold it out, and pray Schlatt takes it, and doesn’t toss it to the ground.
“... Uh, thanks?” Schlatt sounds a little lost for words. “I’ve never really had someone… say something like that before.”
“Sorry,” Wilbur says instinctively, futilely trying to pull back the outstretched hand, the flower his fingers clutch. “I didn’t-”
“No, I…” There’s a pause. “I appreciate it.”
Wilbur flops back in his chair. Schlatt’s taken the flower. He holds the rose now, one less thorny plant in Wilbur’s chest, and the feeling is… intoxicating.
“For the record, I like your laugh, too.” Schlatt sounds embarrassed and awkward, but Wilbur’s heart swells. He grins like the lovestruck fool he is, and is glad his camera isn’t on right now.
“Schlatt being nice??? Not clickbait???”
Schlatt laughs, the slight tension between them eased. “Good luck getting anyone to believe you.”
“Who says I’m gonna try and tell anyone anyway?” Wilbur rests his chin in his palm, leaning forward over his desk. “Maybe I want to keep this as just us.”
Not quite another rose, more of half of one. A torn off-handful of petals. Still, Schlatt seems to take it anyway.
“Just us,” he repeats slowly. “Yeah, I could live with that.”
**********
Subject: 189
My chest feels looser. I gave you a rose and a bit. And you took them. I can’t believe you took them.
You didn’t make fun of me for saying the things I did. It gives me hope for if I ever say the things that, today, I didn’t.
Like how your eyes are probably the prettiest I’ve ever seen. Or how your smile could light up an entire room, or just how badly I want to kiss you sometimes.
God, I want. So bad it hurts. Too many things to name.
Domesticity. Romance. All that bullshit, if it’s with you.
That is, if I can bring myself to speak again. To offer out another rose. Maybe a bouquet.
But I don’t know if I’ll ever have the courage.
-Wilbur.
*********
Wilbur stares over at his wall; he reaches out and carefully turns on his phone. The light blinds him for a second before he can make out the time; 2:53am.
He sighs, rolling into his back and throwing an arm over his face. His thoughts won’t stop running a mile a minute, and they all loop back to one person.
Wilbur rolls over again, snatching up his phone and unlocking it. If he can’t sleep, he might as well keep himself entertained. He barely opens discord before a message comes through.
Schlatt
Shouldn’t you be asleep?
Wilbur
Who made you the sleep police?
Schlatt
You should get some sleep though.
Wilbur smiles a little at his friend’s concern, but sleep won’t be coming anytime soon for him.
Wilbur
I thought about it
But sleep sounds boring
And it wasn’t really my choice to stay up all night anyway
Schlatt
Insomnia?
Wilbur doesn’t get a chance to answer, a call filling his screen. He lazily accepts it, blinking blearily at the screen.
“Insomnia?” Schlatt repeats, this time through the call.
“Something like that.” Wilbur shifts, propping himself up on one arm. “You?”
“It’s ten at night here, Wilbur, so it’s not unreasonable that I’m awake.”
“Why’d you call me?”
Schlatt turns on his camera purely to give an overly dramatic shrug before switching it off again. “Wanted to talk to you, I guess.”
Wilbur fights back a broad grin. “That bored, huh?”
There’s a huff from down the call. “I swear to God, Wilbur-”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Wilbur backtracks quickly. “Please don’t leave the call.”
“Calm down, loverboy,” Schlatt says with a soft laugh. “I like your company.”
Wilbur breathes out slowly. “I like talking to you, too. It’s just better when I’m not sleep-deprived at three in the fucking morning.”
“I’d tell you just to go to sleep, but, well.” Schlatt chuckles a little. “You can’t.”
Wilbur decides to change the subject. “So what are you doing this fine hour, my pretty princess?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Schlatt replies, just a little too quickly. “But to answer your question; talking to you.”
“Yeah but… Before that.”
Schlatt sighs heavily. “Debating getting drunk.”
“It’s Thursday. Wait, actually Friday.”
“Yeah.” Schlatt sounds resigned.
“Bad day?” Wilbur ventures.
“Bad week,” Schlatt responds. “A little better now, though.”
“What, cause I’m here?” Wilbur jokes. There’s silence for a moment.
“Yeah. Yeah, cause you’re here.”
********
Subject: 193
Do you ever feel like you’ve fallen as far as you could for someone, but then somehow you fall impossibly deeper? It’s that feeling for me, all the time, as well as a feeling of falling constantly.
It’s like I stepped off a tower into an infinite abyss. Always falling, with no way back up and no signs of stopping.
I’ve gotten used to it now. It’s almost comforting how familiar it is.
Are you falling too? Can we link hands across the chasm as we tumble ever downwards?
Or are you watching from the top as I fall endlessly, your feet firmly on the ground?
-Wilbur.
********
“I’m going to spawn a ravager.”
Wilbur keeps cutting down an oak tree, his mind anywhere but on the video game before him. He doesn’t even register that the other man has spoken.
“I said I’m going to spawn in a ravager, are you listening?”
“Sorry, I-” Wilbur takes a moment, blinking. “I’m a little out of it today.”
From the other end of the call, Techno lets out a humourless laugh. “Yeah, I figured that when you didn’t react to me mentioning a ravager.”
“Do not,” Wilbur says, sitting forward in his chair, suddenly alert, “Spawn in a ravager.”
“Not even one?”
“No.” Wilbur looks down at his hotbar and groans. “I don’t even need wood. Techno, why did I just get a bunch of wood? I don’t need it.”
“Do you need to take a minute? You really seem out of it.”
Wilbur shakes his head a little violently to clear it. “I’m fine. Just… Got half a stack of wood now, I guess.”
“I’m gonna keep working on my farm,” Techno says slowly. “Get some villagers in, maybe.”
“Ah,” Wilbur nods, “Slavery.”
“Forced unpaid work,” Techno responds aggressively, the weirdness between them melting away. “Not slavery.”
“Oh, of course. Forced unpaid work,” Wilbur amends. He moves his character towards the makeshift mine; he remembers now that he needs iron.
As he heads down, joking with Techno, he briefly muses how nice it is to simply not think about Schlatt, for just a little while. To leave his stupid feelings in the dust and just have some fun playing a video game.
*********
Subject: 214
We haven’t spoken for a while now. I’d like to pretend I don’t know how long, but that would be a lie. I should point out it’s because of these emails that I know, and not just me being weird, but two weeks is a long time to go without any contact.
Why aren’t you texting back? I’m not mad or even trying to be clingy, just… Worried.
It hurts to think something could have happened to you. But if something did, how could I not know?
Maybe I need to worry less.
-Wilbur.
********
“Hey, Phil.”
“Is something up? You don’t sound… great.” Phil’s voice is full of concern, and Wilbur really wishes he wasn’t. At least, not concerned for him .
“I haven’t heard from… One of my friends in weeks,” Wilbur says carefully. “I’m worried about him.”
“Well,” Phil begins slowly, gently, “There’s really nothing you can do.”
Wilbur knew this would be the answer, but his heart still sinks anyway. “I… God, I know. But I can’t stop thinking about him. Wondering if he’s okay.”
Phil sighs, silence filling the call for a moment. “I’m streaming later tonight; we could do something together? Take your mind off it for a bit.”
It’s not a permanent solution. They both know it. But what more can Wilbur do?
So, he smiles, grateful for the friends he has. “Thank you. That’d be really cool.”
“Alright. I’ve got to go do some stuff, but I’ll call you back later.”
Phil leaves the call. Wilbur sits there in silence for a moment, staring at his screen. Then he gets up and leaves his room, determined to find himself a distraction until his stream with Phil tonight. Anything to keep his mind off of Schlatt; anything to stop worrying.
*********
Subject: 220
We scheduled to record a video tonight. Ages back. But we still haven’t spoken.
Have you forgotten? Or if I call you, will you answer?
I guess we’ll find out.
-Wilbur.
*********
Wilbur’s mouse hovers uncertainly over the call button. It’s been three weeks since he and Schlatt have spoken, even over text. But they scheduled this video far in advance, so surely Schlatt should pick up?
Wilbur exhales, and clicks. The call rings for far longer than usual, but finally Schlatt picks up.
“Wilbur?”
“Hey, Schlatt.” Wilbur fights back a relieved sigh, and zeroes in on how tired Schlatt sounds. “It’s been a while.”
“Yeah.” Schlatt yawns audibly. “We’re meant to film, yeah?”
Wilbur takes in the way exhaustion seems to tug at every word Schlatt says. “We can push it back a day, dude. You sound like you’re half dead.”
Schlatt lets out a quiet groan. “Just… It’s been a lot recently. I don’t really want to talk about it. Let’s play the stupid block game.”
Wilbur frowns, but opens Minecraft regardless. “Well, just… I’m here if you need me, okay?”
Schlatt laughs dryly. “Don’t worry about me and my feelings, loverboy.”
Wilbur takes in a breath. “What kind of feelings?”
“Stupid ones,” Schlatt replies. “The bullshit that is falling in love. Have you got the world up yet?”
“Yeah,” Wilbur manages, fighting down the millions of thoughts he has. “Yeah, it’s up.”
“Good.” Schlatt pauses for a second. “So, what’s the gimmick today?”
Everything feels a little more normal. Wilbur can’t quite relax or smile yet, but the tension eases.
“You’ll love it,” he promises.
“That tells me I won’t,” Schlatt responds, joining the world. Wilbur takes in a breath, and starts to record.
***********
Subject: 234
No matter how hard I try, everything comes back to you. To what you said.
Who did you fall in love with? Is it futile to hope it’s me?
Probably. You’re you, and I’m me. Sure, you joke and “flirt”, but there’s no meaning behind it.
It’s stupid of me to think otherwise. But I’m determined to be there for you, in any way that I can.
-Wilbur
*********
Wilbur rubs his eyes tiredly, leaning back in his chair. He’s been trying to edit for hours now, but can’t focus on much beyond the way Schlatt laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his lips curving up.
He sighs heavily. Wilbur knows he’s in far too deep now. He’s fallen so far, so beyond just a crush.
He saves his progress, and closes his editing software. Wilbur then throws an arm over his face, and tries to expel some feeling from his body. Begs for a moment of relief, a moment where he’s not so highly aware that his life has come to revolve around Schlatt.
He’s plagued by thoughts and emotions all the time. There’s not a moment he doesn’t feel like he’s falling further; the stupid smile and awful jokes that made him fall in the first place sound in the back of his mind even when his entire focus is on a stream.
Wilbur breathes out, and pulls up his email. He rests his hands on his keyboard, and decides that this is the final time.
Subject: 246
This is the last I’ll ever write. It’s not healthy- no, that’s a shitty excuse. I’ve just decided it’s enough.
I’m sick of this. Of having my life gravitate around someone I can never have. So I’m getting over you, starting now.
The first step is these emails. I’m deleting all of them. I was never going to send them anyway.
Hell, why am I even bothering with this one? Closure, maybe? I don’t know.
I might step back from social media for a bit. I have enough videos built up to allow me a short break before I have to actually announce anything to my viewers.
Maybe I’ll just go dark. Won’t tell you or anyone I’m gone.
… Probably not. I don’t want anyone to worry.
But this is it. I’m moving on. And the first step is to select every last email, and hit that delete button.
-Wilbur
He straightens, and stares at what he’s written for just a moment. Then, slowly, he highlights all of his drafts. All two hundred and forty six of them.
He hovers his mouse over the delete button. Closes his eyes. Clicks.
There’s a whoosh sound. His eyes fly open to see a confirmation message.
Emails sent!
Wilbur stares, and stares, then feels tears prick at his eyes. He sinks down in his chair.
“Fuck.”