Work Text:
‘God, its so fucking hot.’
That's Wilbur’s first thought when he wakes up blurrily; confused and dazed as his eyes adjust to the dark room around him. If he were a different origin, like an avian or bee or almost any of the others maybe the thought wouldn’t have been that strange. For a phantom origin like himself though, hot almost always equaled death. The sun burned through his fragile skin like it was nothing, turning his usually cold body into a burning inferno. Over the years Wilbur had quickly learned that heat always meant bad news.
All of that considered, it really made perfect sense that Wilbur panicked upon waking. He was disoriented; mind fuzzy and vision slightly blurred, nose and lungs seemingly clogged while his throat ached. For a brief moment he truly thought he was dying; that he’d gotten caught out in the sun for too long and was slowly melting away into the ground. Then, he remembered.
Wilbur had woken up earlier that day sick, feeling congested and out of it in a way he never had before. Really, he’d been convinced he just couldn’t get sick thanks to his phantom side. Apparently, he’d been wrong. Either way, Phil had agreed to play ‘Momma Bird’ and look after him until he got better. He’d made Wilbur soup and let the phantom sleep in his bed, where he’d piled dozens of blankets and pillows and other soft things. The bed was quite like a nest really (albiet darker thanks to Phil pulling all the curtains shut so Wilbur wouldn’t burn).
There was a reason phantoms didn’t have nests though.
Looking down at the rest of his body, Wilbur found his lanky limbs tangled beneath the layers upon layers of blankets Phil kept. His clothes stuck to his body uncomfortably, sweat (or the blue ghostly equivalent at least) clinging to his thin skin. Phantoms weren’t made for heat, it was why Wilbur didn’t sleep with more than one blanket at a time. Clearly Phil had been unaware of that fact if he’d pulled so many over Wilbur all at once.
Kicking the blankets away desperately, he let out a soft sigh of relief as the cold air of the room hit him. Crisis averted, Wilbur felt exhaustion begin tugging at him once again. Later, he would talk to Phil about his heat aversion (just another origin set back to add to their ever growing list); but for now? For now, Wilbur would simply sleep.
This time without all the layers.