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When Wilbur was small and young and when mom was still around to give small smiles and soft laughs and when morality was celebrated and not cursed, he celebrated his birthday.
Mom loved birthdays,loved the inherent beauty of growing older and growing wiser, loved the joy and love that filled those days. No matter whose birthday, if it was Wilbur’s celebrated in rain or cold, or Mom’s in the snow and frost, or Dad’s at the brink of spring, she made sure that each day was filled with nothing but love and joy.
“Wilby, blow out the candles will you?” Mommy murmured, hands touching his shoulder. Her hands have always been warm, like a sunny spot on a cold winter night.
He nods happily and blows out the candles, probably getting spit and germs all over the poor cake. Mommy laughs and claps, and Wilbur finds himself missing the warmth of her hand,
Daddy smiles in the back, a private, serene smile, and kisses him on the head.
And then Mom dies, and suddenly birthdays are to be resented, to be scorned in the distance. Because birthdays show morality, and nothing good comes out of mortality, not even him. So he stops celebrating his birthdays, instead keeping track of them in a neat little book.
He jots down his age. His handwriting is messy and odd and uneven, but no one was there to teach him, not anymore. He squints at it- it looks nothing close to what Mom made, but it’s good enough- and decides it looks close enough three and a half. He sets the book down.
But then, after all this time and effort,Techno opens up and suddenly birthdays are good again. It’s only Techno’s birthday, and maybe it’s stealing the show because they share the same birthday, but Dad’s just trying to make the piglin feel welcome. It’s a kind, nice thing to do, and who cares if neither of them even glance at him-Mom just died, and Techno is just so busy with his first birthday. It’s fair. It's more than fair, really- it’s completely fine and normal. He’s happy his family has the chance to, well, be a family.
Really, it’s no big deal. He’s four, he can deal with a bit of ignoring. And really, he doesn't really need to eat anyways. Techno is growing and strong and is already showing promise, so he should eat. Wilbur just plays god awful screeching noises on Mom’s guitar. So it’s completely understandable.
Techno shifts shyly as Dad praises him for his good swordsmanship. Wilbur watches on from the porch, sitting quietly on the steps. His tummy hurts. He’s hungry. Can he eat? He wants to eat.
They already went to the carnival. Dad completely forgot about him- he had to sneak in because he didn’t have money for his own ticket. He gets lost, and instead of looking for him Dad just takes Techno and leaves, flying off. But Wilbur should have had wings to- it’s his own fault he didn't grow any yet.
Dad pats Techno on the head. He thinks he’s going to go inside.
And then Techno and Dad start going on adventures, and suddenly he’s alone and again. And he tries to make due, tries to make a cake or even a cupcake, tries to sing to himself and fill the house with joy, but even if he did, there’s no one to share it with. The house is quiet, lonely, and suddenly he would much rather sleep than even touch his own birthday with a five meter pole.
Wilbur sighs, putting away the ingredients for the bread he had tried to make. The house is too cold, too empty when there’s no one there to fill the space.
He goes upstairs and flops on his bed, fully intending to sleep the day away.
And now, today is the day. The dreaded, most cursed, cold, and empty day of the year. At least, for him. He’s sure Dad got Techno something- maybe some fully enchanted netherite sword- and he jots down a reminder to send a gift to Techno today too.
He walks downstairs and winces. Already he can hear the loud yelling of children being children- he can hear Tommy shriek something about milk and Tubbo yelling something about eggs and Ranboo’s much more quiet inquiries. Thank Prime those kids have a semi-serious friend- he has no idea what he would do if they did everything they wanted unchallenged.
Dragging himself downstairs, he listened in interest as the voices suddenly quieted. Back when it was just him and Tommy, he could use his enhanced hybrid hearing to hear whatever was going on. However, with the two recent kids, he couldn’t do that anymore- one could even say Ranboo had better hearing than him.
But typically having the entire kitchen suddenly quiet was not a good thing. And if the past predicts the future, the trio are going to be in so much trouble-
He steps into the kitchen and sees a cake.
And not a bad, store bought cake that looks boring and artificial, a real cake, made from scratch and filled with feeling. The famous trio turn nervously to look at him- Tommy with a cup of red hibiscus tea in his hand. Wilbur’s favorite.
He thinks he’s going to cry.
“You… did this all for me?’ He finally manages to choke out.
Tommy nods brightly, spurred on by the reaction. “Yep! And we got you presents too!”
He pulls out the presents. They’re little cards, hand drawn and with images of him and the trio holding hands and walking towards the sunset.
It’s addressed to the best big brother in the world.
Screw it- he’s absolutely going to cry.
He grabs everyone and pulls them into a hug.
(Later, he’ll mail a necklace to a twin he hasn't seen in months. Later he’ll test the ediabilty of the cake. Later he’ll receive a birthday gift from Techno, and have to decide if he wants to accept it. But that's for later. Right now he basks in the love and comfort of a home.)