Chapter Text
Wilbur lays in his bed, staring at a blank wall and thinking about time flying by. His textbooks are forgotten on a table among a mess of paper scraps, napkins with curvy handwriting and music sheets that he hasn't managed to burn yet. The exams are coming, he needs to prepare for his classes, he needs to revise that little piece of information he managed to get through his head, and yet- he lays there, eyes open, hands resting on his sheets. Does he really have to finish school? Does he really need university? He knows that he can go to Phil and tell him he drops out, anytime. He really doesn't have to go to university. This thought calms him and makes him anxious at the same time. Phil would support him anyway, but he would ask - why? Why doesn't he want to go to university? Why did he abandon his dreams? Why is he staying up all night without a reason, staring at a blank wall, even though he still has assignments? Are you okay? And a prospect of Phil asking this questions fucking terrifies him, because he doesn't know.
It feels like he's become a ghost, a piece of what used to be his soul walking around, pretending to be him. Wilbur thinks: maybe it would be fun to be a real ghost. Popping out of nowhere, scaring people, shattering glasses like a cat. Finally shedding his skin and leaving that heavy body behind. But he's still pretty much human, laying on his bed. Without purpose, without any distraction on that goddamn blank wall and feeling everything and anything at the same time.
Air is too hot and stale in his room. Sheets are sticking to his arms. He doesn't look at the table but he knows that he should've cleaned this mess; he had a trouble finding his keys amongst it this morning. Still, he doesn't move. Unable to act and unable to sleep. At this point he doesn't know what to do.
And when his mind starts to wander into unwanted territory, whispering that's how he will meet his death, there's quick knocking on the door, and it opens before he manages to answer.
Tommy barges in, and hallway lights illuminate the room. He barks out "hey!" and drops in Wilbur's chair like it's his place. Wilbur has no idea what's happening.
"What are you doing here?" he rasps, getting up on his elbows.
"What, am I not allowed to be here?" Tommy asks, spinning a bit in his chair, looking around.
"No. No, you're not."
Tommy huffs.
"Were you busy or something?"
"Yes." Wilbur answers, no hesitation, no emotion in his voice.
"And what are you up to?"
He has no answer to that, not a normal one, at least. 'I was very busy looking at the same spot for hours'? He doesn't know.
Tommy snorts at the silence.
"'kay, big man. Sorry for interrupting you and all that." he scoffs. Then his tone changes, getting quieter, "Dad left your dinner in the fridge. He asked if you'd join us tommorow."
Wilbur sighs, getting up to sit properly on his bed.
"I don't know." He means it.
They sit there, not speaking and not meeting each other's eyes. Then Tommy gets another look around the room and says, "God, it's so stuffy in here."
He bends over the disaster that his table is (thankfully not commenting on it) and opens the window, letting chilly afternoon air in.
Wilbur feels like he can finally breathe.
"C'mon," Tommy says, stepping towards him and nudging his shoulder, "'s too cold, you'll get sick again. Let's go to the kitchen, I'm fucking starving."
Wilbur nods, and Tommy pulls him up, not letting his hand go, only freeing it when they get to the bottom of the stairs.
They sit in the kitchen alone. Techno's in his room, doing god knows what; Phil is probably finishing things before sleep, no matter how many times they told him it counts as overworking. (Hypocrite.)
Even though it's not that late, probably no one will go out of their rooms. No one will bother them. Wilbur really doesn't want to meet anyone esle now while he eats his cold rice with stir-fry. Tommy looks at it with a bit of disgust while munching on his sandwich. He offered to put Wilbur's dinner in a microwave but he didn't want to. Tommy is yet to learn about a romance of cold food eaten in the dark directly out of the lunchbox. Wilbur doesn't comment on it; he's barely fifteen, after all. Some day he'll learn.
They do not talk. Wilbur spent half a day without speaking and then some hours in the silence of his room, but he doesn't object. It's okay. Good, even. He doesn't know what he would say now. He's not sure he could describe what's going inside his head. And he doesn't want to worry his little brother, he really doesn't.
Seems like you already did, something inside of him says, and he just digs into his food.
Tommy finishes his and sweeps crumbs into his hand. Phil would be pissed if he just left them. Wilbur knows that Tommy feels really bad if he somehow upsets anyone in the family. Wilbur understands it.
He washes his dishes, enjoying a feeling of warm water on his skin. Tommy waits for him. He leans on the counter with his back, almost hitting his head on the cabinet. With his growth spurt he looks like a newborn deer, graceless and clumsy. Wilbur wonders if Tommy will outgrow him.
They get back to the second floor, steps creeking softly on their way. Hallway lights are still on. Wilbur stops in front of his room, and Tommy stays there too. He looks around like he's never seen their house. Wilbur is just standing here, watching him, and he's not sure what's more awkward. Then Tommy gets closer and hugs him, hiding his face in Wilbur's chest. Wilbur holds him just as tight.
"I love you." Tommy mumbles.
"I love you too."
They stay like that for a minute, and then Tommy untangles himself. Wilbur pretends he doesn't see how he rubs his eyes. Tommy doesn't say anything about him too, though Wilbur's sure his face is splotchy red now. His nose stings a bit. He ignores it.
When he gets into his room and closes the door, he shivers. The window is still open, and Wilbur leaves it like that. He takes a deep breath and gets in his bed, sheets cold. He doesn't mind.
His head is blissfully blank, in a different way than before, and he finally falls asleep. He'll be okay. He thinks he can be okay.