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Wilbur decided to make his own youtube channel, he saw how big Tommy’s was and decided to create one and upload singing covers, small vlogs, and dance covers. Now, Wilbur isn’t the best dancer in the SBI, no no. That is Tommy’s title. The kid’s been dancing since he was a tot! He prefers and specializes in singing, he’s been doing it since he was a kid. But extra dance practice with maybe some critique wouldn’t be too bad.
He announced it on his social media and fans flocked over to the channel. A couple of covers came out, a couple of vlogs, and then he left it alone for a few days. Wilbur had decided to not read the comments, no matter how flattering most of them were.
But one night he just couldn’t help himself. So, he looked through the comments on his most recent dance cover. It was sloppy and all over the place but he got the decent approval of the SBI so he posted it. (Tommy did not give the approval and was telling him he’d get shit on)
Actually surprised Essempi allowed such a shit dancer to team with two of the best dancers in this generation of idols. Stick to singing, dude. You won’t fuck that up. Laziness like this gets you nowhere
Wilbur’s eyebrows furrow. He’s gotten worse hate comments, and he’s well aware that the performance he gave wasn’t his best. So why did it hurt? He never enjoyed being compared to the rest of the boys, or other idols. Everyone had their talents and everyone had places they lacked. If he was lazy, Essempi wouldn’t have approved of him. Wouldn’t have debuted him, and wouldn’t have kept him this long. He desperately tries to reason with himself for minutes.
Shaking his head, Wilbur gets up. Fiona looked up at him sluggishly from her spot on her cat tree. “Go back to bed, Fi. I’ll be back later,” he cooed out. Checking the time, it was 10 PM, he had a couple hours to spare in the practice room.
Ignoring the voice in the back of his head yelling that he had practice in the morning and could improve more later, he walked downstairs and went towards the room Techno and Tommy usually were found in.
It’ll be just him tonight, though. And that’s fine.
---
Wilbur’s dancing is kind of messy. He’s definitely not as skilled as the other members. Hell even Ghostie is better at dancing than him and he’s talked about how shit his dancing is before!
---
“There is a man on the floor, I repeat there is a man on the floor!” a voice wakes Wilbur up from sleep. He practiced until around 4 AM last night and decided to catch some Z’s on the floor. Too tired to go upstairs.
Tommy is standing over him with a big smile on his face, though his eyes share concern. “Why are you sleeping here, big dubs? Came in here to warm up before practice this morning!”
“Wha- Toms? What time is it?” Wilbur asks, voice dripping with sleep.
“It’s like seven, dude! Woke up early and found you here!” Wilbur shot up at that.
“I didn't mean to fall asleep, my bad, king,” Wilbur apologizes jokingly, getting a smile from Tommy.
“Wanna warm up with me? I always wake up too late for anyone to warm up with me here!” Tommy ended his sentence with a whine, flailing his arms around like a child being denied candy in a store. Wilbur chuckles and nods his head, standing up and beginning his stretches with his little brother.
He missed the confused look Tommy shot him as he off-handedly mentioned regretting staying up so late practicing.
---
Anyone else see how Wilbur sticks out like a sore thumb when they’re all dancing? Seriously, how is he still bad? You’d think after like a year of being an idol he’d get better.
---
For about a week, every night Wilbur goes into the practice room and practices for about three to five hours. And he’s been making progress in getting better at dancing, Phil’s even commented and complimented him on it! He didn’t catch the worry in the older man’s tone.
Tonight, he’s only gonna practice for a bit, only for a bit. Maybe an hour or so? Tomorrow is Sunday, he and Tommy are supposed to go out and he can’t be as exhausted as he had been this past week. Wilbur’s been dozing off, zoning out, more snappy than usual, all the things that happen when you get less than four hours of sleep a night.
The boys have been worrying about him a little, but he’s continuously brushed them off. He’s improving himself, he doesn’t want to continue bringing them down especially Tommy. Tommy is seen as an outlier within the dancing skills of the Sleepy Bois Inc. And he’s seen as just an average dancer, sometimes less than average.
Walking towards the door to the practice room, he hears muffled music. Maybe someone forgot to turn it off? That didn’t seem likely though since it was only 11PM and no one used the practice room today. Shrugging, he continued forward and opened the door.
And is promptly met with a dancing Technoblade, very much not paying attention to anything but his own body and movements. His hair is down for once, he usually never keeps it down when dancing, showing how long it is. It reached his lower back, and Wilbur reminisces on when it was just shoulder length and he would tease the younger for having ‘really long hair’.
They’ve known each other for a while. They went to school together for a small amount of time, the three year age gap made it harder after middle and highschool, and even lived right next to each other back when they were kids. They used to look so much alike, they had said they were twins. It was easy to believe especially since how close they were. They still are very close, of course, but as kids they were attached at the hip. Inseparable.
Wilbur smiled in awe as Techno moved in such a majestic and, for lack of a better word, cool way, even in his goddamn pajamas.
From the way his feet hit the ground, to how his hair flowed beautifully behind him, he captured the audience’s eyes and made it hard to look away and his on-stage outfits made him look like a royal. It was a quiet, silent beauty, quite the contrast to Tommy’s beauty when dancing. Tommy demanded the attention of the audience through animated movements and amazing facial expressions. His outfits would always have something flowing behind him and duller colors. He was loud and confident in every way possible. It’s why they made such a great duo as lead and main dancer. They contrasted perfectly and their personalities rarely fought for attention, unlike what some would think. They brought out the best in each other, especially when dancing.
Wilbur tends to think about this a lot, especially when watching the two dance together without the older two members. He, don’t tell either of them this, looks up to them in that aspect. He admires them so much and feels a certain type of soft envy towards them. Sighing, he watched as the music slowed down signifying the ending of the song as Techno obeyed the music’s request to slow down.
He held the stance for a moment before relaxing as another song started up. Techno groaned and turned around, only to catch Wilbur’s eyes halfway through. Techno startled, stepping back before flipping his hair to the side and calming down.
“What’s up, Wilbur? Is the music too loud? I can turn it down, if ya need,” Techno offered, tilting his head slightly in confusion as Wilbur shook his head.
“No, I came down here to practice for like, an hour or so,” Wilbur admitted, stepping fully into the doorway and showing how he was in his pajamas just like Techno. Techno huffed out a laugh and gestured for the older man to come in and stand next to him.
“Couldn’t sleep, or were you just feelin’ energetic'?” Techno asked with a slight smile. Wilbur decided to just nod and not give any more insight into why he came down.
“Could you not sleep?” Wilbur asked, going over to look through different songs the two knew and could dance to together. Techno simply shrugged and looked over Wilbur’s shoulder and gave suggestions on what songs to do.
Eventually, they were up and going, energy not completely there dancing nonetheless. They went through several dance routines together before Wilbur found himself satisfied and so did Techno, and fucked off to bed at the same time, giving each other the usual ‘good nights’ and ‘sleep wells’.
He didn’t see Techno’s suspicious gaze fall over his body.
---
Wilbur’s performance has honestly been getting better but he’s still not on their level at ALL lmao. He’ll never be as good as them and that’s just a fact haha
---
Wilbur was tirelessly working tonight. Sweat dripped down his face and his chest hurt with every labored breath that left his body. His arms were tired beyond relief and his legs will feel this tomorrow. But he can’t stop. He can’t stop a month in, that’s too little. Get better, get better, get fucking better ran through his head and he pushed forward.
The burning in his throat became more and more apparent as he felt his muscles twitching under his skin, a warning to stop and get some fucking rest. Itchiness built up in his throat and he had to stop and allow a coughing fit, not hearing footsteps coming towards the room. Well, he did, but he thought it was just his imagination. It was four in the fucking morning, no one should be or would be awake right now.
Coughs continued to rip through him as he hunched over. The door opened and he didn’t look behind him, if not for his throat deciding to drag him through hell, than for the fact he was trying to come up with a reason he is up this late in the practice room. The music decided to end a moment afterwards and left the room in silence. Fucking great.
“Wil? Son?” Phil’s voice cut through the quiet, “Why’re you up this late? We have a long day tomorrow, you should be in bed.”
Oh yeah, they did have a big day tomorrow. Or, well today. They have a performance tomorrow and their first episode of their own show called Sleep Well SBI. Behind the scenes shit with some fun, secret activities planned by their company.
“I was just excited, I only got in here around thirty minutes ago,” the lie slipped off his tongue easily. Phil made a disapproving noise.
“Really, mate? Because Techno said-”
“I don’t care what Techno said, Phil. Please just leave me alone.”
“You’ve been getting more and more tired-”
“Shut up, Phil.”
“We’re just worried about you!”
“Shut up.”
“Tommy also said he-”
“PHIL I DON’T CARE. I DON’T GIVE A SHIT SO PLEASE JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!” Wilbur yelled out, storming out of the room and pushing past a worried and shocked leader. Too bad for him, Phil doesn’t take getting yelled at by anyone. Ever.
“Now, absolutely not you little shit!” Phil quickly walks behind him and yanks Wilbur back and looks him in the eyes, clutching onto his arm so it would be harder to leave.
“Don’t you yell at me when I’m just trying to look out for you! You’ve been fucking zoning out and falling asleep all the time! You’re constantly fucking tired and not to mention how you fucking yelled at Techno yesterday because he knocked on your door. You’ve been so rude to both Techno and Tommy recently! The boys might take that fucking treatment but I will not! You will tell me what is going on with you and you will stop treating us like shit!” Phil yelled, definitely succeeding in waking up the other two. He wasn’t going to be yelled at just for looking out for Wilbur, not to-fucking-day.
Wilbur angrily huffed and tried pulling his arm back. “Nothing is going on with me! Just leave me the hell alone!”
“Like hell I will! We have important fucking work tomorrow and you will not be fucking falling asleep during that as well!”
“WELL I’M SO FUCKING SORRY THAT I’M TRYING TO IMPROVE MYSELF SO I DON’T MAKE THE REST OF YOU LOOK LIKE A FUCKING SHIT SHOW. SORRY I’M WORKING MY ASS OFF SO WE CAN IMPROVE MORE! SO FUCKING SORRY, PHIL!” Wilbur yells out, frustrated tears fall down his face slowly.
Phil’s expression turns from annoyed and angry to just plain worried as Wilbur starts crying. His grip lessens and Wilbur just stands there, looking at the ground as if he was trying to make it swallow him up.
Furrowing his brow, “Wil, you’ve never made us look like a shitshow- you’ve never made us look bad, ever. You make us complete, mate. Where did you get that from?” Phil took to cupping Wilbur’s cheeks with his hands and brushing away the tears that fell more quicker.
“The internet, I guess. Everyone has opinions on us- on
me.
They don’t- they don’t think I’m good enough to be in the group. I’m good at singing, that's all I got going for me. And no one can deny the obvious skill difference between us all,” Wilbur whispers out. Phil’s worry gets louder with every word that comes out of his boy’s Wilbur’s mouth.
“What? Wil, listen to me. Look at me- hey, hey, look at me,” Phil squishes his cheeks slightly and pushes Wilbur’s face to look at his own, “There’s skill differences in every idol group, in every band, in everything that is a group of people. Nothing can change that. Skill differences are what differentiate us from each other. If everyone was the same and could do everything the other could, do you really think people would find us interesting?” Phil shook his hands back and forth so the younger’s face would move in a ‘no’ gesture. Wilbur looked confused, and his face looked like a fish’s with how it was squished with Phil’s hands, which made the leader smile.
“You’re good enough as you are. You’re good enough for us. You don’t need to be good enough for them or for anyone but yourself. If you personally think you need to improve, then tell us! All of us are happy to help you out. But don’t do this shit alone. You’re worrying us and we didn’t know what was going on with you. We don’t go through hardships alone, mate. Remember what I said?” Phil left an empty silence for Wilbur to fill, which he did.
“We go through hardships together and not alone,” he recited, his voice sounding strange from the hands on his face. Phil told them all that after their debut performance, they all had been tired and excited, but extremely nervous. Phil had taken them all in a circle and bumped their foreheads together in a huddle and gave them a whole-ass pep talk that Wilbur is too exhausted to think about right now. Phil ended it with that exact sentence.
“What does Ranboo say to Tommy all the time?”
“Do not hurt yourself for the useless opinions of others.”
“And what are you doing?”
“Hurting myself for the useless opinion of others.”
“There you go!” Phil smiled and let go of Wilbur’s face. Phil took Wilbur’s hand and led him up the stairs, quietly talking about whatever the hell was on his mind. His pep talks went like that, one second he was passionately reprimanding you for daring to talk bad about yourself, and the next he was talking about that one time in school where he tripped and fell.
Phil led Wilbur into his room and led the younger to his bed and forcefully sat him down on it. Wilbur shuffled underneath the covers and sighed contently as Phil tucks him in as if he was his father and cards his hands through his hair.
“I’ll wake you up when we need to leave. All of our outfits and everything is already in our dressing rooms per usual so you don’t need to get ready or anything. You can simply roll out of bed and I’ll do everything,” Phil reassuringly whispered to him, sitting on the edge of Wilbur’s bed.
“Thank you.”
“No problem, mate. Get some rest, I’ll take over for now. You don’t need to worry about a thing, son.”
And Wilbur fell asleep. He reeked of sweat and his muscles hurt like a bitch, but at least he had Phil to ease the pain a tiny bit.