Work Text:
His name was Wilbur.
His name was Wilbur, but it hadn’t always been. Once upon a time he has had a different name, a sweet name, a solemn name, a crying name. Willow. Just like its namesake, this Willow was teary and sad. This Willow wept. But unlike the tree for which he, or she, had been named so adequately, Willow could not cry openly. This Willow must suffer alone, young and confused.
Wilbur didn’t weep. Wilbur didn’t lie in bed at night with his arms curled around him and his pillow wet with tears. Wilbur didn’t hide.
While Willow was sweet, Wilbur was charming. While Willow was solemn, Wilbur was bright and cheerful. While Willow was a crying name, Wilbur was loud, carefree laughter.
Willow cried. Wilbur sang.