Work Text:
Wilbur was never the one to be unfair. No, that wasn’t his job. It was Phil’s. And Phil fulfilled it whenever he left home for weeks to attend a festival Techno was participating in. Phil fulfilled it when he cooed at Tommy and sang about how much he loved him. He fulfilled it whenever Wilbur was yelled at for something he didn’t do.
Wilbur remembers feeling lost. He wanted it to stop. He wanted to be found. He’d grapple his brown curls and tighten them to the point where they felt as if they’d fall off. He enjoyed it. He savored that pain. He’d bight his lip to hold back tears, just to fall apart moments later. He’d curse out others who made him mad, in his mind, of course. He was afraid of driving people away, no matter how many times he told himself he was fine without them.
He’d shiver in the warm summer air and cry, wet tears dripping down his cheeks and connecting with his mouth. He’d taste the salt, and instantly feel better. The tears were a reminder of the pain he felt. He kept it close.
He’d stare at a razor, thinking about whether it was worth it. Then he’d turn away, internally cursing at himself because he was a coward. He’d glare in spite at anything that made him angry because he was the object of anger himself. He’d cry about how it was unfair, then proceed to show up the next day to school with a smile on his face.
He’d learn in time to be mean. Sure, it was bad, but it got him attention. He craved attention. He learned to be creepy, to make people afraid so that he’d be known. He’d joke about being yelled at, then cry later. It was all too much.
Wilbur was never the one to be unfair. No, that wasn’t his job. It was Phil’s. And Phil fulfilled it whenever he gave gifts to Techno. Phil fulfilled it when he’d laugh with Tommy and smile, telling Tommy he loved him. He fulfilled it when he paid no mind to Wilbur.