Work Text:
Wilbur's never felt more alone in this place they call a 'bathroom'.
It's lonely. No one's there, just him, not even his fucking guitar. Usually, he would be in his room. His room was bigger, there was a bed, somewhere to cry on was the pillows, and it didn't feel like it was suffocating him. His bed was soft, his pillows even softer. It all made him escape his thoughts, maybe even talk to himself. Sometimes he played his guitar and wrote a song about his feelings.
But this. This is torture.
The bathroom is all but nothing like his room. It's small, there was no soft places, and the only place to cry was in his arms. His guitar was no where, there was no sound, no nothing. This time it was killing him. This time he was dying, for real. No joke, no nothing.
The sounds outside made it no better.
Though the rain could fill in the sound, Wilbur could barely hear it. The windows were closed, as well as the curtains, how could he hear it? The only time he did hear it was the thunder. But, the thunder came on all the 'right' moments. Every time Wilbur thought of saying sad or just negative, the thunder came, fucking loud and scary.
Everything was suffocating him, and in the most painful way possible, slowly but hard. It felt hard just to stand up or even just wipe the tears. He wonders how he even got here, in this bathroom, right now. So, he restarts and tries to think.
Wilbur liked guitar, liked playing it, liked everything. But, it wasn't what Phil's music lessons were. Those lessons were piano lessons, and though he played it wonderfully, it wasn't much special. Tommy had learned it, and also took lessons and also was wonderful at it. Wilbur couldn't be more proud, but, dang, did it hurt in his chest that he was just an extra, someone bound to eventually steal his place.
He had just self-taught himself with the guitar. He bought his guitar himself, not Phil nor Techno, he did. He remembered when Phil first saw that Wilbur had a guitar, it was in the corner of the room and he still saw it.
But that was two months after he bought it that Phil saw. Proves just how much Phil doesn't care for him or isn't bothered to even go to his room and check on him.
Unlike when he does that for Techno or Tommy.
He gets it by now, he's an extra, just there cause of his looks that boosts the ego of the family, he gets it all. But, it still hurts. It hurts cause he gets it all, it hurts cause his keeping it in, it hurts cause he stares at other families and think, 'They're a great family', it hurts, IT FUCKING HURTS! It hurts cause it just fucking hurts, and he doesn't fucking know why.
It hurts so, so, so fucking much.
And, fuck, he's crying again. Sobbing into his arms, the only thing he can cry on. No one's there, no shoulder to cry on, no hand to hold, no arms around him, it's just him. Alone. It's just one, there is no two, three or four. Just one.
There are no sounds coming from his sobs, just tears dripping down onto the hard and cold floor. He wiped them away, and stared back into the floor. The bathroom floor. And he reminds himself, 'It's just you, and it always has been, stop crying you little burden. Your an extra and you know it, you've known it your entire life, so stop acting like a pussy and stop crying.'
There's a banging on the door, and a faint, "Wilbur! Are you in here, Wilbur! Please!" If this is what it takes to feel loved, then this is stupid. Just that voice alone put a smile to his lips, he knows his selfish, sadistic, but it makes him feel better that he is loved, no matter how much the motherfuckers in his head tell him he's not.
Taking a shaky breath, he answers the call, "Yeah! I'm here! Sorry, I was just taking a really long shit!" There's chuckling on the other side of the door, "Well, better come out soon! We have a surprise!" There's something in his voice that makes Wilbur laugh too, "Okay, okay! Let me just wash my damn hands and I'll get out!"
He can hear footsteps as he looks into the mirror. He realises it’s just him, again. Washing his face with water and drying it, a smile is locked onto his lips as he walks out of the bathroom.
It’s not suffocating anymore, it feels more— lively. Lively. That’s the word, lively. It feels more lively than it was in the bathroom. And he’s happy it’s like that.
As he walks out, he stops, unsure of where to go. Yes, the voice(who he thinks was Tommy) knew he needed to go somewhere, just— where? “Tommy? Where are you..?” He asked the air as he walked more, he walked until there was only one place left to go.
His bedroom.
Of fucking course they were in his bedroom, where else? So he walked back up there, and opened the door. He was met with the immediate surprise of—
“HAPPY FUCKING ANNIVERSARY, DIPSHIT!”
It was Tommy who shouted, Phil and Techno behind him with wide smiles. He could barely even see Phil or Techno, as Tommy had jumped right it front of him, but there was enough room to see them. But, what the fuck? Anniversary?? There was a fucking anniversary today?
“Tommy, what the fuck do you mean? We have an anniversary today?”
Tommy laughed at Wilbur, while Wilbur just looked at him confused. Techno shook his head disappointingly, and Phil just chuckled a bit. “YOUR FUCKING ANNIVERSARY OF WHEN WE FOUND YOU, WILBUR!” And at that, Wilbur’s eyes went wide. He forgot that they celebrated when they were found by Phil and taken in. Oh well. He started laughing a bit too, “Ohhh, right! I forgot about that!” Techno responded first, “Forgot when me, Tommy and Phil found you? Now that’s a bit rude, Wilbur Soot.” “YEAHHH, HOW DARE YOU! MAYBE WE SHOULD JUST FUCKING THROW YOU OUT OR SOME SHIT!” They all laughed together and celebrated.
Wilbur didn’t feel alone anymore.