Chapter Text
Wilbur always had a love-hate relationship with noise.
On the rare occasion his mom and dad fought, he would sneak out the window with Techno to escape the shouts. They would sit on the fire escape three floors above their shared room, playing with the cards Wilbur brought with him. Hours of rummy and war and solitaire would pass, until the disappearance of the sun made them realize how late it had gotten. They always went out for ice cream on nights there were fights. Their parents' way of saying sorry. He hated noise when people fought.
When he received his first guitar at eight years old, he’d played it loud and wrong. His mother immediately went out and bought books that would show him how to properly play. He grew to love the feel of his hands brushing across the strings. Techno found him a leather book for their 10th birthday and told him to write a song about the two. Wilbur had written his very first song that night. It was terrible and didn’t make any sense, but his parents and brother loved it. Wilbur loved noise when he heard music.
Wilbur felt uncomfortable with crying. He cried lots. He was an emotional child. His mother said he had the heart of a lover, not a fighter, whatever that meant. Techno never cried over little things like a broken butterfly wing or a dried worm after a summer storm. He would look annoyed at Wilbur’s crying, but still try his best to comfort Wilbur. Wilbur didn’t care for noise when somebody cried.
Tommy’s birth caused a lot of noise. His mom had screamed, yelled that the baby was going to be born. They had just moved to a bigger apartment, one able to hold three kids instead of two. It was closer to the hospital as well. Their dad shoved them all into the family car and stepped on the gas, weaving through traffic. He had held Techno’s hand throughout the entire ride. He was 12, yes, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be scared. By the hard grip from the other boy, Technoblade was scared too.
The hospital had lots of beeping machines and squeaking shoes. Everything seemed to echo, and Wilbur couldn’t help but want his CD player. Even better, his guitar. He found himself strumming on his leg, a melody in his head manifesting through the nervous tick. It was a song of fear and waiting. The anxious tune flowed through him, and he forced himself to remember it despite the current situation. Or perhaps, because of it.
He would eventually call this song Jubilee Line.
Wilbur sat next to his dad and brother for ten hours. At the fifth hour, the doctor walked in with a clipboard. Their dad shot up, Techno and Wilbur following. “Mr. Watson, I assume?”
Phil nodded. “Yes, how’s Kristin? Can I go see her?”
The doctor looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, but right now she’s currently being watched by our team. She’s a month early, and there are complications arising with the birth. We may have to have a c-section.”
“I don’t understand, he was fine with Tech and Will. What’s different?” Phil pressured the doctor for answers.
The doctor tried to reassure Phil. “Sir, we’re doing everything we can to give your wife an easy birth. Pregnancy is very complicated and individualized. As soon as you can see your wife and child, we’ll let you know.”
The doctor suggested him and Techno leave to sleep, but both refused. They slept in the plastic chairs, pressed against their father. They woke up to the door opening some hour later, a nurse coming in. His dad once again got up, though this time the two boys were busy shaking the remnants of sleep away.
“Please, can you give me any update on my wife?”
The nurse gestured for them to follow. “Right this way. Your son was delivered just a few moments ago. Your wife is with him...right...now?”
The hallway was a flurry of doctors and nurses rushing into a beeping room. The nurse let out a rushed “Wait here.” and ran off to join the commotion. The three followed, a feeling of dread rising in Wilbur’s stomach. His dad’s face was pale, steps rushed. Wilbur still had Techno’s hand.
They could see who was in the room through the open door. The nurses and doctors hadn’t bothered to close it. High pitched cries were coming from the room. Wilbur only heard a few words from the various adults.
“Pressure.”
“Pulse.”
“Heart-rate.”
“Hold it.”
“Losing her.”
“Clear!”
The last word was shouted. He felt Technoblade slip out of his hand, having followed their dad into the room. Wilbur snuck in as well, keeping away from the blue and green outfits. He was able to see his mother’s dark hair through the crowd. He wanted to call out to her and tell her that he was here. He could sing to her now.
It was all too loud. Dad was shouting for mom now. The doctors were yelling for them to leave the room. Techno had backed to the corner. And there was still the crying. Where the hell was the crying coming from?
The corner, in a clear basket, was a tiny pink lump. No one was even paying attention to the thing. Wilbur saw it was mostly blanket, the closer he got. There were tiny golden hairs similar to their dad’s, but curly like their moms. Like his. Wilbur looked around, wondering if anyone was going to make it stop.
“Hey.” He whispered to the baby. “Stop crying. You’re loud.”
The baby still cried. He opened his eyes, and Wilbur was amazed. They were so clear and blue. He had looked at the sky plenty of times, he had written little songs about the sky when he was younger. But the baby’s eyes were crystals. He was a squishy lump and Wilbur couldn’t look away. He stuck one hand out, just like his mom had told him to do when this thing finally arrived. One of the arms that escaped the blanket grabbed on, and the crying stopped. Wilbur didn’t know if those eyes even knew what Wilbur was, but Wilbur swore then and there that he was not going to let anyone hurt his new brother. Because the crying had stopped, but so had the rest of the noise.
Wilbur turned around, expecting to see the hoard of doctors. Instead, he was his father hunched over his mother. Technoblade was standing at the foot of the bed, staring wide eyed at their mom and dad. And their mom…
She was still. If Wlbur was to put himself in denial, he could say she was asleep. But his parents had raised him to be smart. He didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to even think about it. But he knew.
He wondered if the baby would blame himself when he was old enough.
Wilbur stepped towards the bed, almost tripping over the wires on the floor. Her hand was in his, it felt warm and alive. Time was frozen, his brother and dad not daring to speak.
He felt a presence behind him. There stood yet another doctor. He hated doctors. “Sir, I’m very sorry for your loss. However, we have to take her for a post-mortem. You will be able to see her after.”
It took a minute, but his dad nodded his head. The doctor waved in two others, and began to move the bed from the room. Both he and Techno started to protest, Techno grabbing onto the bed.
“Tech, Will, come here.”
Both boys turned at the call of their father. He sat back in his chair, exhaustion evident on his face. They kneeled on both sides of him, looking expectantly. “This is going to be hard, and I am so sorry you have to go through this, but we’ll be okay. I promise, we’re going to be okay.”
They heard a cough from the other side of the room. A nurse stood, visibly uncomfortable at having to intrude in their moment. “I apologize for the interruption, but,” the nurse walked over and held out a blanket to his dad. “Would you like to meet your son?”
His dad took the blanket containing their new family member. Usually, Wilbur could read techno like a book. Now, he felt like everyone outside, only seeing the facade he puts up. Wilbur couldn’t tell if Techno hated the kid or not. Wilbur needed time to figure out his feelings.
“So boys,” Phil smiled. Wilbur knew it was his sad smile. “What’s his name?”
“We’re naming him?” Technoblade asked. It was a good question. Who would let two twelve year olds name a baby.
Phil just nodded. “Give it your best shot.”
Techno thought for a minute. “Theseus.”
Wilbur scowled. Of course Technoblade would name him some obscure name. He probably got it from one of his books. “He won’t even be able to pronounce that name. If you want a T name, just name him Tommy. Tommy is a cool name.”
Techno crossed his arms. “You can call him Tommy, I’m calling him Theseus.”
Phil turned to the doctor. “I suppose the name is Theseus, nickname Tommy.”
“What? He can’t even say Theseus!”
Wilbur’s protests were left on deaf ears. It was the first of many times his calls wouldn’t be heard.
Wilbur was beginning to regret taking Tommy home.
The baby wouldn’t stop crying and his dad wasn’t doing anything about it. He spent every day in his room and Wilbur knew he was staring at the pictures of his mom. Techno wasn’t much help either, in the same state as their dad. Wilbur wanted to be the same. He wanted to lay down and remember every moment with his mom. He was afraid to forget.
Someone had to take care of Tommy, though. Mom had gotten stuff to make sure Tommy would stay alive before she left for the hospital. Wilbur spent the entire weekend researching how to take care of a baby. It wasn’t terribly hard, just very gross and annoying.
His dad had hired some woman to come during the day during the hours they weren’t home. He had no clue how Tommy was during those hours. All he knew was he left school at the same time of her entrance, and came home to her leaving. Almost like his dad knew he was the unpaid caretaker.
So now he sat besides Tommy’s cradle, tired and wishing the baby would be quiet.
“Please,” He whispered. “Just stop for a minute. I’ll do anything.”
Tommy didn’t stop. Wilbur felt an incoming headache. He needed his guitar. If Techno got pissed off cause Wilbur was playing music at 2am on a school night, oh well. He needed something to calm him.
The guitar was his first of the three he owned. He remembered his mother’s face when she handed it to him, anticipation and excitement at his wishes finally coming true. He had been asking for a year. It wasn’t anything special, just a tan acoustic, but to him it was beautiful. He played a few notes, checking it was in tune.
Wilbur remembered the melody from the hospital. It had been in-the-moment idea, ones he often got during school and would write in the corner of the paper. It had been how his music teacher first noticed his “talent” as she put it. He hadn’t thought of it as much of a talent until his teacher started pushing him to write his own songs. She gave him the idea early on of being a musician. His mother supported it, though perhaps she thought of it as a childish dream he would outgrow. He would never find out.
The melody was slow to come. He wasn’t out of practice, a few days of no playing couldn’t replace four years of learning. He got lost in the sound, finally able to relax. It was quiet.
Wait.
He glanced at Tommy; now sleeping peacefully. Wilbur hadn’t even noticed he had stopped crying. It was the first time in days that he could hear his own thoughts. His phone gave the time to be around 3:30am. He had to be awake in four hours. Was it even worth sleeping? Maybe if he just closed his eyes for a few minutes…
“Wilbur, get up. You’re gonna be late.”
It hurt to open his eyes. His mind was heavy, wanting the bliss of sleep once again. Technoblade stood in front of him, dressed and holding a bowl of cereal. His guitar was still cradled in his lap. “What time is it?”
“Eight, I thought you were gonna be getting ready in here, but I guess not…” Techno trailed off, sending a glance to a still sleeping Tommy.
Wilbur shot up. “Shit, give me ten. I’ll hurry.”
He bolted out of Tommy’s room, racing against the clock. He could count on one hand how many times he had been late to school. He never wanted his grades to drop knowing Techno was one step ahead in the intelligence department. He took no time getting ready, and was out the door with Techno in a flash.
There would be many more times Wilbur would be late for Tommy.
“C’mon, Tommy, put on your shirt.”
Wilbur was sitting in the middle of Tommy’s room, trying in vain to put the two year old in pajamas. Now that the kid had learned to walk, he would not stop moving. Everything had to be moved higher. Tommy grabbed anything and everything with his newfound movement. It both amused and exhausted Wilbur. The worst was when he was trying to give Tommy a bath. Wilbur hadn’t known fear until Tommy nearly fell and hit his head due to the soapy water. He decided to just sit in the bath with him after that incident. The splashed floor pissed Technoblade off, but at least now Tommy wouldn’t fall and break his head.
A lot of things were pissing Techno off lately. Before, Wilbur could just play something on his guitar and Tommy would usually calm down. He still did that, but the calming down part refused to last. One too many times Tommy would bolt into Techno’s room, only to be brought back wearing a grin.
“I believe this is yours?” Techno would say, dropping him in front of Will.
He’s actually dad’s. Wilbur would bitterly think. “Thanks.” He would say instead.
Their dad worked too much to be home. He would have his off days, of course, but he mostly spent those out...somewhere. Sometimes with Techno. Rarely with the three of them. It had been a while since they’d been out for ice cream as a family. Wilbur had taken Tommy to try ice cream a few weeks ago. He was like Wilbur, a chocolate enjoyer.
That gave him an idea. “If you put on your shirt, we can get ice cream sometime.”
Tommy stopped jumping on his bed. “Ice Cream?”
“Yes, ice cream. Now come here.” Wilbur tried again. It worked, because Tommy actually got down and listened to him. He should try bribery more often. No, that’ll backfire in the future. “Ok, back to bed. It’s guitar time.”
Tommy squealed. “Guitar time! Dad play! Yay!”
Wilbur froze, ignoring Tommy’s continuous cheers. He heard wrong. He had to have misheard. That didn’t happen.
Please don’t say that. He thought. Never ever say that. I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. This is unfair. Why do I have to do this.
His heart beat faster and faster.. Everything in front of him blurred together, shifting in and out of focus. He tried to breathe, find something to bring him back. All he could hear was his own blood rushing to his head. He needed to find something, because he was nothing. There was nothing.
He felt the carpet scratch against his hands.
There was a soft hum from the radiator.
Tommy was in front of him, wringing his hands together.
“You okay Toms?” His voice was shaky.
Tommy nodded. “Are you okay?”
Wilbur moved onto the bed and beckoned his brother over. Tommy was quiet for once. “Tommy, I need you to listen to me. I’m not your dad, okay? I’m Wilbur. I’m your brother, like Technoblade.”
“Wilby.” Tommy nodded, seeming to understand.
Wilbur cracked a smile. He would miss the day Tommy could pronounce his name correctly. He needed to take a video as blackmail for when the kid was older. “Ok, lets go to bed for good now.”
Wilbur didn’t bother grabbing his guitar. He passed out not even 30 seconds after he said those words. He was too exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster he’d gone through.
Techno didn’t say anything about the impromptu sleepover when he warned Wilbur he would be late. Wilbur didn’t mention anything to Techno as well. The two hadn’t had a sleepover themselves since their mom died. A lot had changed between them since then. Wilbur never knew what was going on in his brother’s head. He felt closer to the 2 year old than his twin brother.
Wilbur knew once he turned 18, he was taking Tommy. He didn’t know when he decided, but Wilbur knew he was doing it. His dad would give custody, and if he didn’t, there would be however many fights needed to happen. But for that to happen, he actually needed money. He needed a job.
Thank god Tommy was in a daycare now and was going to school next year. He could’ve stayed home and tricked his dad into thinking the babysitter was still working. He’d take the money meant for her and save it for the future. That plan fell through.
So now here he was with a fake ID Eret had gotten for him. He had no clue how, and he wasn’t going to ask. But he was now Wilbur Soot instead of Wilbur Watson, 21 years old. He just couldn’t get rid of his name. He’d ditch it in a few years. The last thing he wanted was a criminal background.
His job wasn’t all bad. One of them at least. He somehow snagged two. The first was a cashier job he’d go to during school hours. He didn’t need that fake ID for that, there were plenty of other teenagers working there. No one cared he was a drop-out.
No, he needed the ID for the bar 10 blocks away. Because when he saw the chance to make money in a way he loved, he jumped.
“So,” The owner of the bar, Punz, began. “Your name’s Wilbur huh? Interesting name.”
“Uh, thanks?” Wilbur took it as a compliment. If it wasn’t, oh well.
Punz slipped off the chair. “So, we take any kind of entertainment that won’t traumatize our guests. What can you bring to the table?”
Wilbur held up the guitar. “Well, I can play guitar. Sing songs. Is that enough entertainment?”
Punz smirked. “You sure you don’t wanna try stand-up? Anyways, you do covers or originals?”
“Both, though I prefer originals. It has more of a personal feel to it.” Wilbur explained.
Punz nodded. “You wanna be a hotshot musician someday, huh?”
Wilbur blushed. “I never said that. It’s almost impossible for anyone to do that. I just want to play for myself, and if others enjoy it, even better.”
Punz analyzed Wilbur, almost as if he were using an x-ray. “Shame, we’re a pretty popular place. It’s rare, but sometimes a big shot producer comes in. Impress me and maybe I’ll give you a chance.”
The audition with the owner went great. Punz loved his music, he just needed to prove he was 21. Wilbur made the excuse of forgetting his ID, but promised to be back within the week. Eret came through, and Wilbur had his job. Neither paid very well, but it would add up. He had two years and a new card from his cashier job.
Despite leaving at 10pm after putting Tommy to bed, and coming back around 2am, his dad and Technoblade never noticed his disappearance. Techno never commented about his lack of attendance in school, his brother had stopped waking him up in fear of late attendance long ago. Dad saw him at dinner and Tommy’s bedtime. As far as he was aware, Wilbur was just a private person. Either way, Wilbur wasn’t going to ask if they noticed him leaving. Maybe he was just that good at sneaking around. Surely it wasn’t due to a lack of caring. Because they did care, he was sure of it. At least, they cared at one point. Even if they didn’t give a shit about what he did, or his life, they had cared for a time.
The downside to completely dropping out of school at 16 and getting two full-time jobs was a lack of a social life. He still texted Eret, but that was the extent of his current friend group. He didn’t have time, in all honesty. He was surprised the guy still put up with him. Eret knew about his situation, though, and had promised to be there through it all.
He didn’t know how he would break it to his dad when he turned 18. It would be a hard talk, that was for sure.
His mind kept going back to his conversation with the owner. He said he wanted to play for himself, but was that true? He loved creating songs, there was no doubt about that. But he thought about Tommy’s face every time he played a new song. He remembered his mothers voice as she sang along to his music. He did play for himself, but he played for the people he loved as well.
Schlatt was a dick, Niki was an angel, and Fundy flipped between annoying as hell and the funniest person on the planet. Yet somehow their little group worked well.
He met Schlatt his first month at the bar. The guy was a regular doing stand-up before him. Honestly, he was hilarious. He had a dry humor that worked well with his delivery. Wilbur’s personal favorite bit was the time he started a line of jokes and never finished them.
It was one night after his set had finished that Schlatt came up and introduced himself. They made small talk for a while. Wilbur talked about his love for flags. Schlatt mentioned his intense opinions on cereal.
“So, what made you decide to play here?” He asked. His cigarette smell mixed with the alcohol poisoning the air. “I know my way around the drums, but couldn’t really imagine playing at a bar. Stand-up just seems right.”
Wilbur shrugged, taking a swig of his beer. He’d taken up drinking to help with his stress. None of the bartenders asked for his ID when he was an employee. The first time he tried alcohol, he nearly spit it out. Since then, he’d grown to like it. “I like to play, this place was hiring. Gotta save up for my brother.”
Schlatt quirked an eyebrow. “Brother? What, he’s going to college or something?”
Maybe it was the alcohol destroying his impulse control. Maybe it was the hypnotic state of Schlatt’s smoke floating up. “Adoption. Gonna get him from our dad. He’s four and better off with me.”
“Huh, I thought you had to be 18 to adopt. How are you planning on doing that?”
Wilbur nearly dropped his drink. There’s no way he could know. Not even Punz knew. “I’m 18, I’ve got no idea what you're talking about.”
“Calm down, I’m not snitching.” Schlatt snickered. “Punz is a dumbass, no offense to the boss. He let me get in too, I just don’t know how he thought you were 18.”
Wilbur relaxed. “What do you mean you got in too?”
Schlatt called for a drink from the bartender. “I didn’t expect us to be in the same boat, honestly. I’m a little ahead. I just got my little cousin this year, four like your brother. His mom and dad fucked off somewhere and left me custody papers. I don’t know why they chose an 18 year old with two minimum wage jobs, but I’m not saying no to the kid. I got a house and food for him, that’s what matters.”
Two shots were slid in front of Schlatt. He gestured for Wilbur to take one. “You need something for the kid, let me know. Maybe the two can meet sometime.”
Wilbur downed the shot, actually feeling a sense of hope he hadn’t felt in a while. “Same to you Schlatt.”
Niki saved Wilbur’s life.
He was getting ready for his show one night a few years after he first started. Schlatt was on stage pulling laughter from the crowd. Wilbur had already heard this bit last week on the phone, but the atmosphere and slight buzz of alcohol added to the humor. He glanced back at his drink, hand shifting to move it closer.
“Don’t drink that.”
Wilbur froze. You learn quickly when you work in a bar that there are a few consistencies. One, there’s always an asshole who gets too drunk and tries to start a fight. They usually got one of the performers to kick them out before anything big could start. Two, there was always an asshole who would hit on people who didn’t want to be hit on. Wilbur got particularly annoyed one night on stage and called out a guy harassing some lady by a table. It had resulted in a 25 cent raise. Third, performers were underappreciated. Night after night he could strum till his fingers calloused. No tips.
There was a rare event that Wilbur had only seen a few times, but heard about too many for comfort. Every once in a while someone thought it would be fun to slip some drugs in a drink when one of their customers weren’t looking. The bartenders and lingering performers were always on the lookout, but it wasn’t always caught in the act. Wilbur had learned the signs no teenager should have to. It made him sick, knowing the things people do. If anyone ever tried to do something to Tommy, they would gain a 6-foot hole and he would earn an electric chair.
So when he heard Niki, one of the bartenders and occasional performers, say those three words, he listened. “Why?” He asked, knowing exactly why she said it.
Niki continued to clean the glass in her hand. “The woman Puffy is serving, dark blue shirt. Dropped it in while she was grabbing a napkin.”
Wilbur let out a shaky breath. He made a move to grab a napkin as well, throwing a two-second look to the other end of the bar. Sure enough, Puffy was serving a woman that fit the description. “I didn’t even see her over here.”
“Schlatt’s funny, he’s distracting. I’ve gotta split my focus.” Niki explained.
Wilbur looked closely at Niki. “You only just started working here, huh? Puffy and Hannah have been here since I started, but I haven’t seen you much. You play the guitar right?”
Niki nodded bashfully. “Yeah, legally I’m not allowed to work, but school wasn’t cutting it. My aunt Puffy convinced Punz to let me learn the ropes under the table and perform sometimes. I don’t get paid, so if the inspector comes around I’ve gotta bolt out the back.”
Wilbur slid his hands down his face. “How much illegal shit does Punz have going on?”
“I think he sells drugs with some guys named Bad and Ant, but that’s the most illegal thing I know.” Niki laughed.
“You know what,” Wilbur decided to mentally check out and accept his boss was probably a criminal. “Maybe Punz knows I’ve been using a fake all this time. Maybe he just doesn’t give a shit.”
Niki raised an eyebrow. “A fake you say?”
Wilbur froze. “Please don’t say anything. You literally just saved my life, there is zero reason to end it.”
“I won’t, it can be our secret.” Niki promised.
Wilbur pushed his soiled drink towards her. She dumped it down the sink, leaving it to soak in a separate bucket. “Well, us and Schlatt. He was in the same boat as me at one point. You didn’t hear it from me though. It’s impossible to get any personal information from the guy. Did you know he refused to tell me his name for the longest time? He only told me it started with J. I called him Jschlatt for about a year and a half. It’s still better to just call him Schlatt honestly. Feels like some football coach yelling at some asshole teenager.”
Niki slid him back a fresh drink. “It's not a bad comparison, he is an asshole teenager sometimes.”
“Who are you callin’ an asshole? It better not be me.” Speak of the devil.
“I would never do that, why would you even think that.” Wilbur leaked sarcasm into each word. Niki giggled behind a glass.
Schlatt glared. “Don’t you have songs to sing, pretty boy?”
“Thanks for the compliment Schlatt! Yes, I do have songs to sing. Thanks again Niki, you’re a lifesaver. Literally.” Wilbur walked off, hearing a question about his leaving come from Schlatt.
Wilbur didn’t know why Fundy was in the bar so often.
Just taking a glance at him, he knew he was either under 18, or literally just made it there. He never got alcohol from the bar, another possible underage sign. It’s not like Punz would care, and if his boss didn’t care, neither did he. After all, he would be a hypocrite if he were to care that much.
But Fundy was just always hanging out here. Loitering could be the best word. Schlatt and Niki noticed him too. None of them had spoken to the kid yet, wanted to figure out a motive first. The three had gotten close, and were more friends than coworkers at this point. So when all three took sight of the boy, their interest peaked.
Wilbur talked to him first. It was after his set and he was exhausted yet happy. He always felt a strange type of high while performing in front of a crowd. Niki called him confident. Schlatt called him an attention whore. You took what you could get.
“Hey, kid.” Wilbur tapped the table. The guy was nursing a water, not paying attention to his surroundings. Damn, he’d have to teach him bar etiquette. If he was forgetful maybe Wilbur could just get him a lid. “What’s your name?”
“Uhhh, Fundy?” Fundy was obviously confused at his sudden approach. “Are you drunk?”
Wilbur waved his hand. “Trust me, you’ll know when I’m drunk. Anyways, we wanna know, why are you always here? You trying to get a job? A guy? A girl? What’s your motive.”
Fundy’s face reddened. “No, that’s not it at all. I just need to get away is all.”
Wilbur pulled back a bit. That wasn’t an answer he was expecting. He was expecting some form of rebellious behavior or even a job opportunity. Not...whatever that was. “Come again?”
Fundy sighed. “It’s my parents. They’re always fighting at home, we live across the street. It gets loud and I need somewhere to get my mind off of that shit. The performers here are a good distraction. I would ask if I could play the piano, but I think I’m too young to be hired. Sorry to dump that all on you, I’m really stressed. I have anxiety.”
The cogs in Wilbur’s head ground to a halt. That was a lot of information to process in a short amount of time. “Let’s take a step back and process this, because that was a lot.”
Fundy was fucked up, that was confirmed. But so was Wilbur. And being friends with Niki and Schlatt taught him a few things
Wilbur led Fundy over to the bar. “I think you’ll get along with Schlatt and I, we bond by shit talking our dads. You’ll love Niki too, she makes up for our lack of motherly love.”
Wilbur got an idea that night. A crazy idea that would never work in a million years. He had bigger things to focus on. He would ignore it.
Wilbur added 3 members to the group.
Wilbur: You’re probably wondering why I’ve gathered you here today.
Wilbur: Welcome to L’ Manburg bitches.
Wilbur: We’re in a band.
Jschlatt has left the group
Niki: Sounds fun!
Fundy: Do we have a choice?
Wilbur added Jschlatt to the group
Wilbur change the group name to Band Practice
Wilbur: No. Now let’s get fucking famous.
The conversation did not go how Wilbur believed it would. Then again, Wilbur never thought about how his family would take his decision.
Wilbur had found a cheap, two-bedroom apartment close to his work with the help of Schlatt. He made enough each month to cover rent and bills, and everything he saved up would help them for a long time. He talked to the landlord, Sam, and put down the first month's rent. The furniture was in the house, there was plenty of food for an adult and kid. He’d even gone to the bank and signed up for a credit card. He was ready. Now, he just needed his dad to give him Tommy.
That was the hardest part of the entire ordeal. If his Phil didn’t sign over custody, it would be for nothing. There would be no reason for him to have dropped out and saved up all that money. He would have hidden half of his life for nothing.
Wilbur was nervous when he called his family to sit down with him. He had brought up the idea to Tommy, telling the 6 year old to keep the conversation a secret. Tommy was on board, happy to be with his brother no matter where they went. He probably wouldn’t see it as much of a change. The only difference would be the scenery. Wilbur even made sure to stay within the range of his school. Tubbo, Schlatt’s cousin, also went to Tommy’s school. They became fast friends without any prompting.
“Is everything okay Will?” Phil asked. He didn’t know when he began thinking of his dad as Phil.
Wilbur completely forgot the script he had laid out. He’d gotten as far as sitting them all on the couch before panic took over. “I’m fine, perfect even. Things are going to change, though. I’m going to be moving out in the next few days, and I’m taking Tommy with me. I have the custody papers with me, I’ve been speaking with a friend in law-school, and everything is set up. I just need your signature.”
You could hear a pin drop. Techno had lost his bored expression. He looked baffled and confused, glancing between their dad, Wilbur, and Tommy. Phil was equally, if not more shell shocked. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Language!” Tommy corrected. Wilbur was glad Tommy was learning to not swear. He had accidentally said fuck one too many times in front of the child which resulted in a very long talk about what are good and bad words.
“You heard me.” Wilbur repeated. “I want custody of Tommy. We can do this the easy way or the hard way, your choice. I’ve already got an apartment for us. Tommy is fine with it. You have no reason to say no.”
“Yes, actually, I do.” Phil fought back. “What about college? How are you going to take care of a kid? How do you expect to pay rent? I told you I wouldn’t have you on my phone plan once you move out.”
Wilbur scoffed. “You know, I always wondered if either of you paid attention. This really goes to show how much you don’t. I dropped out of school two years ago. I’ve been working two jobs, where do you think I go at night? Don’t give me that look Technoblade, have you really never wondered why you didn’t see me in class? Never heard my name during roll call?”
Techno looked down. “I thought you just ditched most of the time. I never knew...why did you just leave? How didn’t I notice?” He asked the question to himself rather than the others.
Wilbur still chose to answer. “Simple, you didn’t care. Neither of you have since mom died. Someone had to say it, sorry if I’m the bad guy.”
“That’s just not true Will.” His dad defended.
Wilbur stood up. He had been calm before, but that comment threw everything off. “It’s not true? Have you ever been to Tommy’s birthday? Have you been to his school recital? Did you do anything for him that doesn’t involve money? The only way you involve yourself in his life is buying things so he can survive. Do you know who makes Tommy happy here? Me.”
Wilbur was on a rampage. He quickly handed Tommy his phone and earbuds. Whenever fights broke out between him and his father, he made sure his brother heard the least amount of fighting. Tommy sprinted off into Wilbur’s room, giving him the safety of not being in the center of the incoming storm. “Do you know anything about him? He’s your son and you don’t know shit about his life. What’s his favorite color? What’s his favorite song? Do you even know his favorite movie? Answer any of this and maybe I’ll consider hearing you out.”
Phil clenched his hands. Let him throw a punch. CPS would love that. “Red. His favorite color is red.”
Wilbur didn’t know if he should start laughing or crying. “ No, you couldn’t be more wrong. It’s blue. Sunset blue. He was watching a nature documentary and saw the color of the ocean when the sun was going down. His favorite songs are the animal crossing soundtrack. He’s seen the movie Up seven times. He cries every single time he watches the beginning 15 minutes.”
Phil broke. “Please, Wilbur, just stay. I can do better. I love you both, believe me.”
Wilbur shook his head. “I want to believe you, but I don’t. You had 6 years to show it, and you failed.”
“Losing Kristin hurt. I still miss her. He reminds me too much of her.” Phil gave a weak defense.
“I lost her too!” Wilbur screamed. “I lost my mom and neither of you were there! I was alone and had to raise Tommy because you were too lost to remember you were a father. I never got to mourn her! You fucking brought this on yourself, Phil. You did this.”
Wilbur stared at the hurt eyes of his father. “You did this.”
Techno had been quiet the entire time. Wilbur didn’t want to call him a coward, simply because he would do the same in his place. “If you take Tommy, what are you gonna do? You’re a dropout on your own. How can we help?”
“I don’t need your help. I’ve been working since I dropped out and there are plenty of people who care about me. People you will never know.” He glared at his dad. “Now I’m asking you again, are you going to sign or not.”
It took seven hours for them to get through the paperwork. Ten minutes for Wilbur to pack his and Tommy’s belongings. Thirty seconds for them to walk out the door with a single, tense goodbye.
The house had never been so quiet.