Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Florida locals have a variety of superstitions about the island dubbed “Esempi” off the coast. Though it’s only a boat ride away, no one has ever stayed longer than a day. Our team has received many claims of supernatural occurrences, and even complaints about the surrounding wildlife. Franklin University graduate and biologist Lily Doe even went as far as to say to our sources that it makes the island completely uninhabitable. 

This, juxtaposed with the island’s strange properties that make all cellular phones completely malfunction, makes for something that sounds almost too convenient to be natural. Several hypotheses are floating around that say the mysterious island may have some magical origin of some sort, but nothing is set in stone as further research has been deemed impossible due to a scarcity of information. More on the story as it develops...

Wilbur sighed and closed out of the article and shut off his phone, pressing his head against the car window. He didn't want to move to Florida, but his father, Phil, had received a job offer in Delray Beach that was too good to pass off. Luckily, the city was on the coast and not in the middle of nowhere.

His older brother, Techno, turned around in the front seat to give Wilbur a look, “Wilbur, can you stop being dramatic, we won’t be here forever.” He rolled his eyes.

Wilbur gave him a glare but didn’t say anything. 

“Don’t antagonize him, Techno,” Phil said gently, keeping his eyes on the road. Although it didn’t sound like the start of a quarrel, he had no problem stopping anything before it started. 

“Yeah Techno, you’re gonna make him even more depressed!” Tommy stated, his eyes never leaving his Nintendo Switch. “Until he finds some girl to snog with…” he added, cheekily. Wilbur whipped his head around to glare at the boy, leaning over and shoving him.

“Shut the fuck up!” he shouted, causing Tommy to squawk and retaliate with a shove of his own. Techno groaned and turned back around, leaning back into his headrest.

“Boys!” Phil glanced in the rearview mirror to meet the younger’s gaze, who listened as soon as he saw the glint his father’s eyes carried. 

Tommy wasn’t as upset with leaving England as Wilbur was– probably because his best friend, Tubbo, was well off and could just fly over to the U.S. anytime he wanted. Wilbur, on the other hand, had to leave all his friends and life behind just so his dad could get more from his paycheck every two weeks. 

What’s worse was the fact that Techno was so excited to return to the States, that Wilbur could barely give any protest. It would be selfish of him to throw a fit because he was happy with his life in Brighton when everybody else was so thrilled to spend the next four awful years in America. 

Wilbur pulled away from Tommy and went back to looking out the window, choosing to outright ignore his family for the rest of the drive to their new house.

Upon entering their new neighborhood, Wilbur saw it was awful. It was a suburban nightmare that seemed to thrive off of the misery it sucked out of his body. 

He slammed the car door harder than was necessary and marched to the house. His family was ahead of him, having already grabbed their bags from the car. Wilbur had chosen to be the last out, trying to drive a point home.

He walked into the house and immediately felt himself fill with dread and anger. It was heartless and plain– exactly the opposite of everything Wilbur’s family was. He felt himself wilt even more. 

“This is it...?” Tommy said, bluntly, having finally ripped himself away from that stupid game.

“What do you mean by that?” Techno’s voice echoed from the kitchen. He was trying to decipher the other’s tone to decide if he agrees or not. 

“I mean this house fucking sucks! It looks like a hotel!” He flopped onto the couch. 

“Oh. Then yeah. But more like a motel– where like, some crazy crime was committed,” he said, striding over to the youngest and placing himself next to him.  

“Yeah, what crime is crazier than being so absolutely bland?”

The brothers cracked up and shot each other understanding looks. No matter how far they moved away from home, they’d always have their dry senses of humor to make light of horrible situations.

Wilbur noticed the new furniture— it all sucked . On top of that, an unpleasant aroma wafted through the house, something of fish, or maybe onions? Whatever it was, the acidity overloaded his senses and he felt himself tear up. That’s what he would tell himself, anyway.

“Can I go to my room?” he asked, still despising every moment since he arrived. Phil shrugged his shoulders and gestured upstairs. Wilbur brushed past him, electing to continue ignoring him.

He entered his room and half-considered throwing himself out the window; he didn’t see his guitars or even his PC setup, or any boxes containing anything! Wilbur dropped his bag on the floor and raced back down the stairs, finding Phil in the kitchen going through cupboards. 

“Where the fuck is my shit?!” he demanded, catching his father off guard.

Phil turned to him, raising his eyebrows. “Um, hello?” he said, crossing his arms as he often did when he felt disrespected.

Wilbur could feel all the pent-up rage pouring out of him as he yelled, “My fucking computer and my guitars! My fucking guitars!” 

“Wilbur, your stuff is still in transit just like everyone else’s. It will be here tomorrow. Maybe if you spent more of the car ride listening to me and less time feeling sorry for yourself, you wouldn’t be so overcome with surprise. Look at your brothers,” he gestured a stiff hand towards the couch, “ they aren’t shocked.” 

Wilbur picked up on the change of tone in his father’s voice and immediately knew he fucked up. He rarely ever saw him so fed up like this, but he was too angry to regret anything he said. The fact that he knew he was in the wrong made him even more livid, too.

“NO! fuck this! Fuck this house, and this state, and fuck this whole country! And fuck your stupid goddamn bitch job! And fuck YOU, and YOU, and YOU!!” Wilbur pointed at each member of his family respectively, before turning on his heel and storming out the front door.

Wilbur walked for what felt like only a few minutes, but when he checked his phone, it had been closer to an hour. He sighed and convinced himself he wasn’t that cross with Phil or his brothers. Just that none of them really saw it from his perspective. He lost his entire life and routine and no one seemed to care as much as he did, if at all.

He scanned the surrounding buildings and eventually found himself by a bakery. Stalling, he decided to go in and get something to eat at least, before returning home. 

The bells above the door chimed as he entered, but it seemed to be empty inside. It made sense, Wilbur rationalized. It was a beautiful day with perfect weather— the people who worked here were probably out enjoying it.

“Hello?” he called out, stepping up to the counter and attempting to peer around the back. But before he could lean any further, a clearly frantic girl rushed towards him from a back room. 

Her pink hair was tied up into a ponytail, and her dark blue apron was meticulously decorated with colorful pins that had the names of various bands on them.

“Oh hello! So sorry for the wait, we normally don’t have any customers!” she said, her high-pitched and scratchy voice grating on Wilbur’s ears.

“Um… You usually don’t have any customers?” he raised an eyebrow, huffing out a laugh. 

“Uh… No. I lied. Sorry, I don’t know why I said that! I mean, we’re literally the closest bakery to the beach and people come in all the time after their trips, especially on a day like this where it’s so nice and sunny out and– and– and— um, I’m sorry!!” she placed a hand down on the counter more forcefully than intended, almost as if balancing herself. “I literally just rambled so much you probably hate me and never want to see me again! Here— take a free bagel! Take a hundred free bagels! Just don’t tell my boss about this!”

Wilbur paused a moment, attempting to process all the words just thrown his way. ‘She’d prefer to explain a hundred missing bagels to her boss rather than them just knowing she talks too much?’ he thought.

“Woah, woah it’s alright, um…” he glanced at her name tag, “Niki– really, it is. Plus, I just moved here, so I would have no way of knowing who your boss is anyway.”

He gave Niki an awkward smile, and she froze behind the counter, still embarrassed and vulnerable from her earlier rant. Her fearful speechlessness and staggered breathing indicated to Wilbur that he should probably change the subject to salvage what he could of the conversation. 

“...You said there’s a beach nearby?” he asked, glancing out the window as if he could see the sand from where he stood. She gave him a silent nod, her wide eyes watching his every movement.

“Um, y-yeah, it’s super close,” she continued, having mustered the courage to slip out a few more words, “J-Just past the stoplight and you’re to the main part of the beach! …Although... th-there are trails that lead to more private beaches, and a pier where people take day trips to Esempi! But that’s only for the tourists, nobody here wants to visit that island!” She immediately slapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a gasp. “Oh my goodness, I just said too much! Again! This always fucking happens!” 

“Oh yeah, I heard about that. Why do the locals avoid the island?” he was aware he was making the dick move by ignoring her self-deprecation, but he knew that if he tried to mend her worries it’d just make everything worse. 

“I-I can’t say!! I don’t want the spirits to haunt me!!” she squeaked out. 

Wilbur’s eyebrows shot up. ‘What the fuck?’

Upon looking closer at her, he concluded that she couldn’t have been any older than him. If anything, she looked– and acted– a bit younger, but Tommy outgrew his fear of ghosts at around age ten. So then why was Niki so freaked out?

“Um... what spirits?” he dared to ask.

“I don’t know!” she hid her face in her hands, trembling slightly.

“Okay… alright… um… how much for a tea?” Wilbur changed the topic, realizing that the article was right. Clearly, there was some superstition surrounding this town that he’d rather not touch with a ten-foot pole; and if all of its locals were like Niki, he thought it’d be too soon.

“Oh! Do we even sell tea…” she bent over the counter, twisting herself around to read the menu above her, “we do! Five dollars, please!” 

Following her gaze, he read the number for himself, “It says two.”

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!” She blushed and snapped back to her original position. “I was just reading it upside down…” she said, with a vapid expression that Wilbur thought seemed a bit forced.

Shrugging it off with a chuckle, he pulled out his wallet and dug around for two American dollars, finding them between two English pounds. He’d have no use for British currency here, he mused. He’d have to get to a bank to exchange them soon.

He handed the money over as Niki rang him up. 

“Okay, so your total comes out to two dollars and twelve cents,” she said, before adding, “please!”

“But you said two dollars...” Wilbur felt his face flush. 

“Yeah, but there’s still sales tax,” her eyes widened as she realized, “oh but you said you’re not from here! Please forgive me!”

“Oh… um okay. I don’t have twelve cents,” he said, lamely.

“Um– don’t worry! I’ll cover you this time, but next time, maybe you could bring extra money?” She caught herself. “I mean- I was joking– no I wasn’t– um, listen! I don’t mind paying for you, don’t hate me!! The one hundred bagels are still on the table if you want!”

Wilbur didn’t think his eyebrows could raise higher, but he handed over the money anyways.

“Um.. right, thanks. Still a no on the bagels, though.”

Niki nodded and put the money into the cash register, before turning away to heat up the water for the tea. 

She turned back to face him on the other side of the counter, “So, you said you just moved here, right?” she inquired, leaning forward.

“Um, yeah, from Brighton. With my family. But, funnily enough, my older brother is American, so he’s fitting right in. The rest of us stick out like sore thumbs, though.” He laughed, although he didn’t find it funny.

She giggled in response as if cued by him. “Wow, Brighton? I was wondering where your accent came from!”

“Yeah. Uh, so what about yours?”

“What? Oh my goodness– my accent, right! Yeah, I’m originally from Germany! My family didn’t come with me like yours, though. I moved here for an exchange program and I’m staying with a host family! But we’re like, basically blood-related now so it’s okay!” 

“Oh, that’s cool,” Wilbur replied. “My family actually isn’t blood-related,” he chuckled at the confused expression he got from Niki, elaborating further, “my brothers are adopted. That's why one of them is American.” 

The confusion on her face resolved, but before she could respond, the machine heating the water let out a monotone beep. Falling into work mode, she turned away from the taller boy to focus on his order. 

Bored, Wilbur found his eyes drifting back to the windows, trying to catch a glimpse of the beach again. It still wasn’t visible, but he wished it was.

Back home, the beaches weren’t very touristy, despite it being a beach town. There were pebbles rather than sand, the wind was always strong, and the water was perpetually frigid. Wilbur didn’t mind, though. He’d rather the cold depths over the warm shallow any day. 

“Here’s your tea!” Niki said, carefully placing it in front of him. He blinked out of his thoughts, glancing over to the drink. 

‘How long was I zoned out for?’

“Oh– thank you so much, Niki.” Wilbur hesitated before speaking again. “Uh, do you want my number?” Although she was very talkative and flighty, he figured it’d be a waste to not at least get a friend out of this shit day. 

She blushed and struggled to reply, only gibberish leaving her mouth.

“ Not romantically! I… I just don’t know anybody here. All my friends are in Brighton...” he rushed, feeling his ears get hot.

“Oh my goodness, thank God! Not that I’d hate that! I just– oh, sure!” Niki’s blush faded and she bit her lip. Pulling her phone out of her apron, she handed it to Wilbur who inputted his number before handing it back to her.

“Just, uh, text me I guess.” Wilbur smiled and turned to walk out of the bakery, grabbing his tea and waving goodbye. Shortly after, a ping came from his pocket and he fished his phone out, snickering as he read the text he’d received.

(909) 520-1611: Is this Wilbur? >-<

He figured he should head home now that he had cooled off– but the thought of talking to his father after storming out the way he did made his stomach queasy. Phil was rightfully angry with him, and he was sure his brothers were as well. Not wanting to deal with all that quite yet, Wilbur suddenly recalled the directions to the beach that Niki gave earlier, and with nothing better to do, he began walking.

The beach was crowded and Wilbur was overdressed. Fighting through the sand with his combat boots proved to be a challenge by itself– not to mention having to avoid the tide and anybody emerging from it. Eventually, he managed to get to a less crowded spot where he saw only a few people, and sat himself down on the sand, making a mental note to return for a swim on a less overwhelming day. 

Wilbur’s focus on the tide was broken when he heard laughter drifting closer to him. He looked over, seeing two figures having a conversation and walking just above the shoreline. The stranger closest to him turned to meet his gaze, his blonde hair whipping around his eyes. He absolutely radiated confidence. Wilbur stared back, not daring to break eye contact, taking it as a challenge. 

The blonde eventually grew bored and turned back to his friend, their laughter gone. Now the other guy was staring at him too.

‘Great. Just great,’ he thought.

Wilbur turned away and pushed himself up off the sand. He could feel their gazes on his back as he began to walk away from them, but he didn’t break his stride. He’d come back later.

Wilbur was met with harsh silence when he returned to the God-forsaken house. It was near twilight, but the door was unlocked.

‘Were they waiting for me…?’

His questions were answered when he saw that the only light was coming from the dining room.

“Wilbur,” Phil sounded mad, “where have you been?” he only ever sounded like that with him . 

“Just out,” Wilbur said, his voice clipping, “can’t I do anything around here without being told off?”

He kept his voice steady, refusing to enter the dining room. He knew if he did, his father would want him to sit down and talk about his feelings, but Wilbur didn't want to tell him, he wanted his dad to know.

“You know we just moved here, I don’t know where ‘out’ is.” Phil pushed away from the table. Wilbur could hear his footsteps approaching him, so he moved towards the staircase to try to evade whatever was coming. 

“I was just exploring the town, is there something wrong with that?” He began slowly creeping up the stairs as the footsteps neared closer.

“There is something wrong with that when I don’t know where you are or when you’re coming home!” Phil raised his voice, being met with silence. Taking a deep breath, he continued with a shift in his tone, “We all left things behind, Wil. I understand change can be scary, and you have every right to be stressed. We all are. But your brothers have been doing their part to keep the normalcy around here and–” 

“–And I haven’t, I know. Maybe that’s why I’m so fucking easy for you to ignore then!” he shouted, scaling up the stairs when his dad finally rounded the corner.

But just as he was about to race to his room, he turned and bumped into Tommy– who, as a result– spilled the half-full glass of water he was holding onto both of them. Wilbur let out a gasp, pushing past his brother and hurrying into the bathroom.

Back on the stairs, Tommy stood with a now empty glass, unpleasant and wet, looking down at Phil.

“Tommy… really?” he sighed, closing his eyes. 

“Wha- I’m sorry! I didn’t know he’d be such a bitch about a little spilled water...” Tommy grumbled, staring into his glass forlornly. 

“Don’t call him that word, Tommy,” Phil shook his head, “it’s misogynistic.”

Tommy’s eyes softened apologetically and he nodded, retreating back into his room.

Phil reopened his eyes, heading up after Wilbur. He tried the bathroom door’s handle, but it was locked.

“Don’t come in!” Wilbur called out from the bathroom floor.

“Are you alright?” Phil asked, worry seeping into his tone. 

“Fine! I’m just… busy!” 

“Oh, I’m sorry! Um, Wilbur, this conversation isn’t over– we’ll continue at another time. But I just want you to know I love you, and if I’ve ever made you feel ignored, I’m very sorry. You’re my son, and–”

“–I love you too, dad, but I seriously need to be alone right now!” He knew exactly what idea he was giving Phil about what was going on in the bathroom, but he simply didn’t have the energy to care or clarify. 

“Right, sorry. Take your time. We’ll talk after dinner.”

His father’s footsteps retreated, leaving Wilbur in almost silence, the dull sound of the bathroom fan whirring in the back of his mind.

He sighed and pushed himself up on his elbows, looking down at what should be his legs. He was not fine, he was far from fine. Tommy just had to spill water on him in the middle of his fight with Phil. It had to be water— and because of that, Wilbur laid humiliated on the bathroom floor, unable to move and hating the reason why.

Because he had a fucking tail .

Chapter Text

“C’mon Tommy, stop acting tired, lord knows you need your beauty sleep but we have got to go!” Techno called out, snapping his fingers to emphasize the last few words. “You too, Wilbur!” he hollered once more over his shoulder, grabbing his keys and backpack.

Wilbur rushed from the top of the stairs with his brown bag thrown over his shoulder, passing Techno and exiting the house. The oldest brother rolled his eyes and followed.

“So like, when are you gonna be done ignoring us? I’m literally over it,” he said, trailing behind his younger brother. He heard Tommy’s footsteps rush up behind him, falling into stride with the others.

“Yeah Wil, you can’t ignore us forever. Unless you want me to tell Techno about Niki Pink Heart Cat Emoji!” the youngest chimed in with a shit-eating grin, entering the car once Techno unlocked it.

“Were you snooping through my phone!?” Wilbur exclaimed, whipping around to Tommy in the back seat. He kicked himself mentally for breaking his vow of silence so easily.

“He speaks! Well– you had it open for the world to see, it’s not like I had to do any work to find it! Maybe next time, you can be less of a dumb bitc— er, loser!” he stuttered, the word ‘loser’ sounding extremely awkward on his tongue. 

“Um… okay...” the brunette slowly turned back around, giving Techno a confused glance, which he returned with a shrug. “Tommy, you know I save all my contacts with emojis that I associate with them. It’s nothing serious.” 

“I didn’t know that, actually. What emojis did you put for me?” he leaned forward in his seat, eager to hear what he reminded his brother of. 

He put in his earbuds to tune out the incoming squawking from his brother. “The ugly demon face.”

After arriving at their new school, Techno parked his pink Prius and his brothers followed him to the office, where they would be given their schedules and textbooks before being let loose.

Wilbur had only a bit of trouble finding his classes, trying his best to follow the map handed to him. His first class was AP literature, and while he was good with words and poems, having to analyze them at 8 in the morning was the last thing he wanted to do. 

He made sure to enter the class when every other student did in order to avoid the stares he was sure he was already getting. After having to basically fight for a seat in the back, he kept his head down and listened in on his peers' conversations so he could gauge personalities and attitudes. This endeavor felt familiar but distant; he hadn’t needed to scope out an environment like this since his first day of school in Brighton. 

It was all a melting pot of American accents until a distinctly British voice made a comment about something someone else had said. He wasn’t even sure where it came from, but his head shot up as soon as he heard it.

His interest piqued at the idea that– maybe– he’d be able to talk to this other British person about all the dumb Americans surrounding them. He had tried to text Niki about it before, but her responses indicated that she’d been living in the states for such a long time that she might as well be a local.

His eyes kept scanning the classroom, unable to find the stranger before class started, much to his dismay. The teacher was kind, if not a little cringy, calling himself an ‘awesome dude’ or something of the sort. He introduced himself as simply Sam, refusing to give his last name. Wilbur found it odd, but then again, he found everything here odd. 

“Alright, I hate to do this– but everyone, direct your attention to Mr. Wilbur Watson! He’s our newest student, having just moved here from England!” Sam said, causing any remnant of positive emotion inside the teen to die instantly. He could only sit in horror as the entirety of the class turned their heads towards him, and he swore he could feel every individual stare melt through him like a laser. 

Some of the students gave him a smile, and even fewer gave him a discreet wave, but most of them just looked him up and down and nodded before turning back to Sam after a moment. But one student, in particular, seemed to continue staring, his dark eyes planting themselves in Wilbur’s soul, causing him to feel slightly unnerved as he tried his best to focus on the board.

After half an hour of reading, Sam split them all into peer groups of their own choice to analyze what they had read. Wilbur was expecting to work alone, already beginning to work through the text. But to his surprise, he was greeted by a shadow casting itself over his desk. He looked up, seeing the same dark eyes as before staring at him.

“Hello. Do you want to work together?” the boy said, a British accent shining through his words, sending a wave of hope over Wilbur. It was him.

He blinked, then broke into a wide smile. “Oh, um, yeah. If you want.”

“Huh? I do. That’s why I asked.” He tilted his head, confusion painting his face. 

Wilbur blushed as his cool completely melted. “Right, of course! Yeah, you can work with me. Um, sure. I’d… like that.” He lightly drummed on his desk, trying with all his might to avoid eye contact with the boy across from him.

“Right then!” He took a seat at the desk right next to Wilbur and held out his hand. “I’m George. It’s Wilbur, right?”

He gingerly shook the boy— George’s— hand, a smile tugging at his lips once again. “Yes. That’s my name, how kind of you to remember.” 

His thoughts jabbed at him, ‘Jesus. I haven’t had to make new friends in so long, I sound like a robot.’

“So… when’d you move here?” George asked, having given up on trying to analyze the text Sam gave them.

Wilbur’s eyes remained glued to his laptop screen. “Um… I wanna say almost two weeks ago?” He tried to approximate the date in his head. “But I think my dad bought the house in advance, um, six months ago– something like that. Uh, what about you?”

“That’s cool! Well, I’ve lived here for about six years now. Apparently, that’s long enough to be considered a true American— at least that’s what my friends tell me.” He giggled, muffling it with his hand so their teacher wouldn’t catch him slacking off. The other laughed politely in response.

The two worked while they chatted amongst themselves, and by the end of class, Wilbur felt his mood had lifted. He found himself genuinely smiling and laughing along with George, the cheap fluorescent lights of the classroom making the boy’s deep brown eyes appear to lighten with every joke. 

When the bell rang and students began to pack up, Sam called for Wilbur to stay. He felt a twinge of dread, but the teacher seemed just mildly irritating at most, so he rationalized that he probably just wanted to give him the coursework he missed. What took him by surprise, however, was the fact that George stayed as well, apparently waiting for him. His eyes met the other boy’s and they lingered there before he shook his head and walked up to Sam’s desk.

“Wilbur, I know this is super lame, but since you transferred in the middle of the semester, I do have to give you all the work you missed. I don’t expect you to do it, considering you weren’t here for it, but if you do you could probably get an idea of where we are in the unit.” Sam said, handing him the packet. “If you need any help, my office hours are from 1 to 2:15.” 

He grabbed the stack of work from Sam. “Thank you, Sam. I’ll be sure to take a look,” he said, turning back to George.

He hollered out to them as they left the classroom, “No problem, kiddo! It’s great to have you in my class!”

George led the way down the hallway. “Do you know what your next class is?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at Wilbur.

“Uh, science, I think. I looked at my schedule right before class ended.”

“Oh! I know where that is!” George beamed. “Follow me— uh, keep following me!”

He led Wilbur to the science lab building. It was a short walk through the school’s outdoor campus, and when they got there, George stopped in front of the door.

“Okay, this is it.” He smiled, leaning closer to Wilbur to half-whisper something, “Okay– also– don’t ever bring up Ms. Loft’s cat. She will talk for hours . Though, I guess it’d be good to bring it up if you just wanted to waste time in class to avoid work…”

Wilbur scratched the back of his head, looking down at the smaller boy. “Uh, thanks…” 

“Yeah. Alright then, I’ll be off! See you later!” He didn’t get more than a few paces away before Wilbur felt words bubble up in his throat.

“Wait–” he exclaimed, trying his best to sound casual. “You uh… seem to know a lot about how things work here… I know this is like” –a chuckle awkwardly tumbled out of his mouth– “so disappointingly cliché, but I don’t know anyone here, besides you now, and I would really appreciate it if you um…” 

“If I um…?” He tilted his head as he did earlier. 

“Um… if you um” –he coughed awkwardly– “do you have an Instagram? Or any kind of social media or something? ...Or maybe Discord? It’d be really uh, helpful, to be able to reach out to someone here who knows what they’re doing if I have any… inquiries... ” 

George realized what he was trying to say. “Oh… yeah! For sure! Here– do you want my number?” he asked, walking back towards the taller boy.

“Yes! That’d be wonderful!” he choked out.

George set his backpack down to retrieve a piece of loose leaf from one of his binders. “Here,” he said, scrawling his number on the paper in bright blue pen. “Text me if you need help finding the rest of your classes! Or if you want to talk some more about Ms. Loft. She’s so funny!” 

Wilbur stared down at the number dumbly, before a grin grew on his face. “Thanks... I’ll text you.” 

George grinned, waving and starting off to his next period. Wilbur copied the information into his phone immediately, sending a quick text so the other could save his number, and made a commitment to text him after class. Until then, he simply saved his contact as ‘George, Alien Emoji, UK Flag Emoji’ and turned off his phone before walking into the science lab.

Science passed quickly, with Wilbur not really paying attention. His mind was preoccupied with what his first actual text to George would be.

‘“Hey” is too casual, but “hello” is too formal… maybe I should just send him a meme?’

Before he knew it, the class had ended, and he was handed another packet of work. With a huff, he gathered his things and set off to his next class, art.

‘I already know where the art room is… I saw it on the way to the lab. I don’t want to text George to ask him where something I already know the location of is… that’s so needy,’ he thought. ‘I should probably wait until I have a reason to text him.’  

By lunch, He was ready to scream into a trash can. Every teacher had handed him a packet so far. Some he had to do, and some were just coursework he was asked to skim over. But they were all completely miserable to retrieve since every single teacher asked him to stay after class, which earned him the same judgy looks from all his classmates. One packet was even in comic sans. 

‘Who the FUCK uses comic sans without malicious intent?’

He walked into the cafeteria and perked up immediately when he was waved down by George. But when approaching the table he was called over to, he couldn’t help but notice it had more seats than necessary for just the two of them. 

“How were the rest of your classes?” George asked, picking at his chips— french fries— and making familiar, dark brown eye contact with Wilbur. 

“They were boring, honestly. Americans must be so behind in their studies. I learned a lot of this stuff last year,” he said, picking at his nails. “Oh, but you were right! Ms. Loft did make me laugh a few times.”

George giggled in agreement, opening his mouth to say something before someone set their lunch tray down beside him with a loud groan.

Wilbur’s eyebrows shot up. ‘That’s why this table has more than two seats...’

The first of two teens sat down. “Dude, Mr. Williams is such a dickhead!” His voice was deeper than expected, and a thin layer of scruff covered his jaw and upper lip.

“Mmm… really?” George said. He shot a polite smile towards Wilbur, who couldn’t believe his shift in tone when talking to this new boy.

“Mmm? So, maybe you should listen to me when I say something to you? You dumb shit?” the boy snapped back, shoving George's shoulder.

“Oh come on now, no fighting in front of the new guy...” a voice next to Wilbur chided, causing him to turn his head towards the source. The second teen’s mid-length blonde hair swayed as he sat down, and the way he shot Wilbur a welcoming smile made it clear to him that he carried himself with confidence. 

Said confidence struck him as familiar, however, and the steep slope of his shoulders also seemed to ring a bell in the teen’s mind. Trying to locate where this feeling came from, he shifted his attention to the first boy, whose laugh Wilbur also could have sworn he’s heard before. Then, while looking back and forth between the two, realization hit him like a hammer. 

‘Holy shit, these are the two guys I saw at the beach! What are the odds that they’re in George’s crowd?’

“There’s a new guy?” the one with the sort-of beard said, looking around dumbly. “Oh, hi! I totally didn’t see you there! I’m Nick!” He held his hand out over the table, almost hitting Wilbur in the face. 

He leaned back just in time, shaking Nick’s hand. “Hello… Nick…” 

“Be careful, you asshole,” George said, slapping Nick’s shoulder. 

He donned a look of faux betrayal. “Suck my ass!”

While they bickered, the remaining guy leaned closer to Wilbur. “Hey, I’m Clay,” he said, shining his pearly whites. “Don’t worry about them, they’re always terrible to each other. It’s how they express affection.” He reached an arm over the table to snatch a fry from George. 

“Hey! Get your own!” 

“Yeah, get your own, fatty!” Nick said, before immediately realizing he was leaving Wilbur out. He turned to address him, “Hey, so it’s your first day right? I’ll be your guide!” he said, getting ahead of himself.

“Um.. no thanks... on the guide thing. I’m pretty good for the rest of the day. George said he’ll help me find any classes I need to,” he said. “And… yeah. I actually just moved from Brighton.” 

“Oh! You and I were like neighbors then,” George interjected, popping another fry into his mouth. “I lived in London until I moved here!”

He nodded, continuing, “That’s actually really cool. I used to live there– when I was younger.” 

‘ When mom was alive...’ he shook the thought out of his head. No way was he gonna drop his dead mom trauma on people he just met. Though, this recent move was beginning to remind him of her more and more. 

“Oh, how fun!” George said, before turning to face Clay. “Hey, Claybert, how’s your day been? Did you end up getting that guy from your P.E. class’s number?”

He whined, “No! He barely even looked at me after I introduced myself! I didn’t even use that dumb line I usually do! I was nice, I swear!” A crack teased at his voice, “And don’t call me Claybert! Not in front of the new guy...”

He fought back a scoff, “Okay Claybert, which line? The one about how you’ll see them in their dreams or something?” he said, lolling his head to the side.

“Yes! After the hot person from my theatre class told me they’d read more romantic stuff in Taming of The Shrew– which I’m assuming is a bad thing– I stopped using the line! I got insecure, I think...” he said, sinking in his chair. 

Nick wiped a fake tear from his eye. “Awe, poor Dreamy, heartbroken and forever alone. Hey– George– I was literally there when Clay introduced himself at P.E. and the guy didn’t even introduce himself back!” he said, with a wicked cackle. “He’ll forever be Clay’s mystery-almost-lover!” 

The blonde seemed to wilt, sadly picking at his very dry-looking salad.

“...Was he cute?” Wilbur chimed in.

“Not cute, hot!” Clay answered. “He was tall– but not as tall as me– and he had this really long pink hair… and…”

Anything else he was going to say sounded like white noise. Not very many men at this school had really long pink hair, and allegedly , this mystery guy seemed to come off as cold and protected? There was no way it wasn’t his brother. 

“Hey! Hello?” Clay waved his hand in front of Wilbur’s face. 

“Hmm yeah? Sorry, I zoned out,” he blinked. “Um, how old was he? Was he a senior?”

“I think! How’d you know?” 

He frowned and looked away. “Oh…”  This reaction caused silence to fall over the lunch table.

“Dude, why does he seem so disappointed? Did you bring another homophobe to our table?” Wilbur heard Nick loudly whisper to George, who shook his head, looking mildly offended.

“That was one time, shut up! And no, he’s wearing docs, look,” he whispered back, receiving a confused nod from Nick. Wilbur sighed, looking back at the two, causing them to freeze. 

For the rest of lunch, he found himself just listening in on the conversations happening around him, not really adding anything. He was still stuck on the fact that Clay had a crush on his brother, Technoblade. His brother. Who hated people– who hated people like Clay. Wilbur felt an obligation to tell him who exactly he was talking about... 

...But then again, it would be kind of funny to see Techno rip into Clay if he tries one of his apparently signature pickup lines. Maybe Wilbur could hold off on telling him, just for his own amusement. It was just a silly little crush for now.

A few more playful insults and topic changes later, Wilbur heard George’s voice break through his spectator mode.

“Wilbur, you should come to the beach with us after school,” he said suddenly, sitting back down. 

“George,” Clay hissed, along with Nick, who shot George a look. Wilbur suddenly felt his face drop. Just like that, he got the message. 

‘I should have known this was just some charity act. Why would someone like George ever genuinely want to have someone like ME around?’ He felt his intrusive thoughts attack him like battalions, 'That explains why his friends are the same guys I saw at the beach. I'm such a fucking idiot.'

Pulling himself together, he spoke, kicking himself for the slight quiver his voice carried. “No, it’s alright. I’ve got a lot of homework anyways. Maybe next time, yeah?” He gave a smile, getting up from the table. 

“Oh, alright…” George said, noticing how the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “ Yeah, maybe next time. I’ll text you later!”

Wilbur nodded his head curtly, hearing the bell ring shortly after.

Wilbur felt awful the whole ride home, and he could feel his distress gnawing at him like termites while he did his homework. He thought about going to Niki’s bakery but he didn’t want to deal with that whole thing, and he couldn’t even go back to the beach because George and his friends were there. 

He was so out of it, that he resorted to listening to Tommy talk about Animal Crossing for twenty minutes— which was a new record. They sat, tucked into opposite ends of the couch while Techno had his nose buried in a book, with the youngest beginning to slow down the further he got in his rambles, shocked that Wilbur was letting him go on for this long.

“Hey, you alright?” He asked, pausing his spiel about how wretched and disgusting Anabel the anteater was. Wilbur did agree; anteaters are very stupid. Maybe that’s why he felt very much like an anteater at that moment.

“It’s nothing,” he waved off, which only made Tommy raise an eyebrow.

“Are you sure?” he said, deciding to press even further when met with silence. “Are you sure? Are you sure? Are you sure? Are you sure? Are you s—”

“I said it’s nothing. Keep your fucking nose out of my business!” Wilbur snapped, causing his brother to lean back in shock. Techno’s head shot up from his book, eyebrows raised. 

“Woah, Tommy’s just worried about you,” his voice carried a bite to it, “you’ve literally been acting like a miserable cold spot the past two weeks, God forbid your brother wants to help you out.” 

“Fuck off. I don’t need his help. He’s a kid,” the teen huffed out, hauling himself off the couch and marching up to his room, making sure his door made a hearty slam.

He heard Phil get home an hour after he holed himself up in his room, taking that as his cue to slip out into the bathroom. After locking the door, he opened Spotify and put on a playlist titled ‘I’m Taking a Gay Little Bath’, before running the water. 

Tommy was guaranteed to tell Phil about his little fit earlier, and he really didn’t want to deal with that. Phil would certainly go on one of his holier-than-thou parenting speeches and chastise Wilbur for not helping, not caring, etcetera etcetera. He figured if he was presumed to be bathing, he’d be left alone. 

He double-checked the lock on the door and stopped the water, slipping into the bath. He immediately felt the tension drain from his shoulders as his scales formed over his legs, a golden fin appearing at the end. His tail was a gift in moments like this– where he sought refuge from the constant irritation his family brought.

Just as he was settling into the bath, his phone dinged and lit up, notifying him of a text. He reached over the edge of the bathtub, drying his hand off so he could respond. A twinge of resentment prodded at his chest when he saw the emojis next to George’s name; it was dumb to be so upset over someone he just met, and he wanted to believe he was being overdramatic, but this felt extremely real to him.

After an eternity of conflicting urges, he finally gave in and looked at the text, expecting it to be some half-assed apology.

Today 6:53 PM

George : alien: :UKflag:

    Hey, just wanted to apologize for the way

    things went at lunch… Clay and Nick are 

< very sorry.

   They didn’t mean to exclude you, the beach

< is just a really special place for us. 

   They get weird about that stuff, but I do really 

   want you to come. I wouldn’t have invited you

< if I didn’t.

o >

hey >

um sure >

as long as i’m not intruding lol >

< No! Of course not!

< Maybe tomorrow? :^)

< Unless you’re busy... 

ok. >

just keep me updated >

< I will!

< I’m so excited to show you! :^)

:caucasian_thumbs_up: >

Wilbur closed his phone and set it onto the toilet seat cover, leaning back into the water and submerging himself just enough that his eyes and hair were dry. One of the perks of Phil’s new job was that he could now afford fancy tubs that can fit a whole mermaid comfortably, but of course, Phil didn’t know that’s what they were being used for.

He sighed and closed his eyes. At least he had an excuse to visit the beach again now, and that satisfied him enough. Even if he had to make sure to stay dry the entire time.

Chapter Text

In the morning, Wilbur was met with the blaring sound of his alarm clock. He reflexively reached out to slap the snooze button and groggily opened his eyes, making out the blurry red analog numbers that read 7:45 AM. This was far too early for his liking but far too late for Techno’s. 

As if on cue, Wilbur heard his older brother yell from the other side of his bedroom door, “Come on! Wilbur, are you still in there?! We’re already late enough as is!” he said. Wilbur groaned as the banging on his door reverberated through his skull, and he threw his pillow at the wall as if it would actually hit Techno. He rolled over, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. 

“Wilbur! You know Phil’s gonna be pissed if we’re late to school!” Techno shouted again.

“Fuck, okay!” Wilbur raged, pushing himself off his mattress and beginning to look through his closet to put together a somewhat cohesive outfit. He begrudgingly kept it simple that day, throwing on a clean pair of jeans and a simple T-shirt, with a flannel for layering, before leaving his room to freshen up.

He entered the bathroom, brushed his teeth very carefully, and stuck his contacts in as fast as he could, before drying his hands. Ensuring no scales would have even an inkling of a chance to appear. Tommy slipped in behind him, reaching around Wilbur to grab his toothbrush.

“You haven’t even brushed your teeth yet?” Wilbur asked, turning his head to catch Tommy in his peripheral. 

“Shut up! Neither have you, pussy!” Tommy squawked.

He opened his mouth to respond to the insult, but instead, he got interrupted by their father.

“Tommy, what did we say about misogynistic language?” Phil said, leaning against the bathroom door frame. 

The youngest’s face dropped, clear confusion crossing his face. “I can’t say pussy?!” 

He crossed his arms. “Not when you mean to say coward. It’s hurtful, and reinforces very harmful and outdated beliefs about female anatomy.”

“You’re such an idiot, Toms,” Wilbur huffed, pushing his way out of the bathroom to find his shoes and backpack, tousling his brown curls along the way.

“Hey! Phil, how come he gets to call me names?” Tommy followed, sticking his toothbrush into his mouth. 

“He doesn’t, but what he said was far less harmful than what you said.” 

“What the fuck!” He said, scrunching his face in protest.

“Ugh! I don’t have time for this!” Techno shouted from the door, opening it for his younger siblings. “Tommy– stop hating women, Wilbur– get your shoes on, and both of you– get the hell out the door!”

Wilbur exited on his brother’s command, followed by Tommy, who carried his shoes in his hands in lieu of his toothbrush. “Bye, dad! Love you the most!” the oldest called out, receiving a return goodbye from Phil as he closed the door behind him.

“—so that’s why Poe would associate the loss of his sanity with a raven– to create a physical manifestation of his mental illness. Although it is well established that Poe wasn’t in the best shape mentally, his mental health was often romanticized.

“People would frequently use it as some twisted evidence to support the image they conjured up of him in their minds as a tortured artist, rather than a genuinely depressed man enduring the ongoing decline of his life,” Sam lectured, writing words on the board that only the first row of students copied down. 

Wilbur sunk down in his seat, feeling his eyes lull shut a few times– he couldn’t tell if it was his exhausted brain making him see things, or if George kept giving him awkward glances from across the room. He considered that to be worse than them just being openly mad at each other– if it was happening.

At least Sam finished his lesson five minutes early, giving him a reprieve from Edgar Allen Poe and his stupid insanity. 

‘The guy’s already been dead for how long? Who even cares about his tortured bullshit? And doesn’t the fact that we’re taking notes on his mental illness make everything Sam said a fallacy?’ Wilbur thought. ‘We’re literally using his struggles as material for our own academic writing—’

“Wilbur?” George said, interrupting his peace. “Sorry to interrupt, you look so lost in thought. I was just wondering if you were coming to the beach with us after school today? I know we talked about it, but I just kind of want to make sure…”

“Hm? What? Oh, um” –he sat up, clearing his throat– “if that’s okay with you guys…”

“Of course!” he said. “Are you alright, Wilbur? You look tired.” He placed a gentle hand on Wilbur’s forearm, and they both locked their eyes on it.

When he didn’t answer, George seemed to flush with embarrassment, fluorescents filtering through his pools of honey. “I-I didn’t mean you look bad or anything–” he rushed, “I just saw you nod off a few times while Sam was talking...” 

Wilbur glanced up at the other, blinking a few times. “It’s fine, I am tired,” he said. 

“I’m sorry,” he said reflexively. “If you’re feeling up to it, you should come sit with us again and maybe give Clay and Nick a chance to apologize to you in person?” 

Wilbur sighed out. “Sure.” He slid his laptop into his backpack and stood up, shaking the hand off his arm. George followed him, and the two waved goodbye to Sam before heading off towards the science building like they did yesterday.

Later in the day, during art class, Wilbur found himself deep in a struggle with his assignment; he was no good at art. He much preferred music, but the roster was full, and he didn’t feel comfortable doing theatre with all the new faces that would have been surrounding him. Just another thing wrong with his life, he concluded.

A deep accented voice came from next to Wilbur, causing him to turn his head, “Hey, you got a pencil?” 

‘I swear to GOD if one more person talks to me today—’ He stopped his train of thought right in its tracks as he processed the particular lilt this person’s voice carried. ‘Wait, what…?’

“You’re British,”  Wilbur said, gaping at the person in front of him.

They grinned, letting out a goofy laugh. “Uh… last time I checked.” 

He blinked. “Right. Uhm, sorry...I don’t have a pencil.” 

“That’s alright.” The person smiled, turning back to their sketchbook. Wilbur returned the gesture, looking back at the single piece of paper he had been loaned out.

Wilbur sauntered into the cafeteria, excited to tell George about the other British person he met in class. But, as he looked for the messy brown hair that usually served as a beacon in the midst of the lunchtime chaos, he noticed the brunette locks were nowhere to be seen. 

Addled, he inspected the room, thinking that perhaps George and his crowd moved to a different table for today. He considered that they might not have a designated lunch table that they’d claimed as belonging to their group.

‘Maybe they just sit down wherever they can?’

When Wilbur turned around to search for the third time, he was met by none other than Nick standing a foot or so away from him. He blinked a few times, processing the sudden encounter.

“Wilbur, you coming? You look lost,” Nick said, scratching at something on his arm.

“Coming where? Where’s George?” he said, his mouth widening into a yawn.

“To our table...?” he cocked an eyebrow. “Oh– sorry– it’s just me for now. George and Clay had to stay behind to finish some project they’re working on together. I’ve been trying to wave you down since I saw you walk in.”

Wilbur squinted. “Oh. Then hello, Nick. Let’s go sit down then.”

They ambled over to the lunch table, where the other began to apologize as soon as they sat down.

“I’m sorry—” Nick blurted out, turning to face Wilbur fully. “The beach is just the first hangout spot we’ve ever had together. But– the three of us talked last night, and I realized it was dumb of Clay and me to try and keep that from you.” 

“Nick… it’s fine, I’m over being upset about it,” he grumbled.

“But you were upset about it— at some point!” 

“Okay? Don’t act like that’s some crazy, radical idea. ‘The new kid gets shut out right after being welcomed into the established friend group’? Come on. That shit is old as dirt.” Wilbur rubbed his eyes and faced Nick, who shrugged but nodded his head. “I’m not mad at you or Clay,” he said, “it’s just been a rough couple of weeks...” 

Nick looked away, carefully deciding his next words. “Do you wanna… talk about it?” he said, finally. “I’m not that good at advice, but– I am a good listener. I know how it feels to feel invisible when you’re sad.” 

“It’s fine. Really.” He couldn’t help the tiny smirk that grew on his face. “It’s just the move. It’s not that deep, I promise.” 

“Okay” –he let out a deep sigh– “but, if you ever just need to rant or some shit, I'm the guy to go to for that. I know we just met and all, but still!”

Wilbur chuckled, shaking his head, and Nick grinned at him before suddenly shouting towards the other end of the cafeteria.

He pointed his finger. “Finally! There they are!” 

Wilbur looked over his shoulder at where Nick was pointing, and sure enough, George and Clay had entered the cafeteria. They were talking and laughing with each other about something. The project, he assumed. When they reached the table, George sat across from him, and Clay sat next to George.

“Hey! Stop flirting, it’s disgusting to see you make a move on my friend,” George huffed, shaking his head at the other two brunettes.

Wilbur opened his mouth to apologize before Nick interrupted him. “Hey! He’s my friend too! You know I’d never,” he retaliated, causing a blanket of relief to fall over Wilbur when he realized he wasn’t the one George said that to.

“Mhm.” He rolled his eyes before smiling softly at Wilbur, who raised his eyebrows and smiled back awkwardly.

“Hey. I’m straight,” Nick said, enunciating the ‘t’ at the end. 

“Yeah, straight up annoying,” Clay remarked, articulating the ‘t’ in the same way. Nick gasped and leaned across the table to punch his arm.

“If anyone is annoying, it’s you!” he bit back, leaning back in his seat. “Plus, methinks you’re forgetting something...” he said, subtly motioning to Wilbur with his eyes.

Clay looked confused before realization dawned on him. “Right.” The blonde nodded, turning to face Wilbur, who blinked in surprise. “Wilbur, I’m very sorry. I was a complete dickhead. We don’t own the beach, and I shouldn’t have acted like it.” He leaned forward a little. “But please come with us after school today! Think of it as like, a peace offering. Only if you forgive us, though.”

Wilbur nodded his head, feeling a bit flustered. “I already told George I’d come this morning,” he said.

“You didn’t tell me this!” He widened his eyes at the boy in question. 

“I wanted you to apologize. You literally whisper-shouted at me right in front of him yesterday. God, Claybert, no wonder your crushes always fall through. You’re so dense,” George said, his tone playful. 

“Hey! I actually made progress with P.E. boy today! He told me what his name was!” he said, puffing out his chest proudly. “Well, his nickname, I think. He said for me to call him Techno.” 

Wilbur despaired. Any room for doubt that ‘P.E. boy’ was his brother just evaporated into thin air, and he seriously contemplated breaking the news.

‘If this goes on, Techno is probably going to kill Clay. Am I going to just sit idly by and watch him be destroyed?

‘...Probably.’

“His full name is Technoblade,” Wilbur said, pushing a strand of hair out of his face.

The blonde cried out in shock, “What?! How do you know?!” 

“I just do.” Wilbur bit his lip to hide his smirk, looking away from Clay. 

“Oh, and the mysterious British boy just gets even more mysterious,” Nick chimed in with a grin, beginning to eat his food now that the group’s tension was gone.

“C’mon, tell me how you know. Please?” Clay said, but Wilbur just shook his head, trying to hide his laughter. “Pleeeeease? I’ll let you feel my bicep...” He bargained, promptly pushing up the sleeve of his green jersey, flexing his arm, and leaning over the table to give the other teen a closer look. He glanced back and forth between him and the mound of muscle, giving his most convincing puppy-dog-eyes.

Wilbur scrunched up his face. “God, no. Put that away.” 

“Public indecency, Claybert,” George mocked.

Nick piled on to the teasing, “AHHH MY EYES! THEY BURN!!!” he said, taking it way overboard.

“Hey! You’re all just jealous,” Clay said, sitting back down in his seat and rolling his sleeve down.

Wilbur scoffed. “Trust me, I’m not,” he remarked, trying his best to put a playful twist on his tone and failing miserably. “Uh– fine, I’ll tell you. But you can’t freak out, okay?” 

The football player nodded eagerly, and Wilbur motioned for the group to huddle closer together, acting as if he was about to share some Earth-shattering secret.

“Technoblade is my older brother,” he spoke barely above a whisper.

The gasps he received made his smile break through, and he was unable to hide the laughter that followed it. 

“WHAT!?” Clay exclaimed, freaking out, just as he said he wouldn’t. 

“It’s true!” Wilbur managed, trying to disregard the stares directed towards their table.

“But he’s American— and you’re British! How does that work?” he whined, running his hands through his golden hair in complete bewilderment.

Nick butted in, “Well, Clay, when two people love each other veeeeerrry much, they—”

“No!” He moved his hands to cover his ears. “I don’t wanna hear about sex! I already know!” 

The group laughed, Clay’s face beginning to turn a bright hue of red. 

“Please, Claybert! You’re acting like a total virgin!” 

“I am a virgin! I’m not a skank like you, George,” he cried out. If Phil could hear him, he’d surely receive a lecture for using the work ‘skank’, Wilbur mused.

He felt his laughter die down, and through a broad grin, he began to explain. “Techno is adopted, Clay. He had his accent before we even met him,” Wilbur said, “he was flown from the states to be fostered with us, and my dad liked him so much he decided to keep him.”

“Oh…” Clay breathed out. “But he’s older than you!” he said, confusion still plastered on his face.

Wilbur’s smile receded slightly. “Um, yeah. What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Well, like– why? Could your dad just not wait to have a teenager?” 

“Well… we adopted Techno when he was ten. I’m only a year younger than him.” 

“Yeah, but maybe your dad just didn’t want to wait that extra year—” He received a hearty slap to his shoulder from George before he could finish his statement.

“Clay, shut the fuck up?” George said, his tone carrying a sudden weight.

Nick grabbed Wilbur’s hand and stared into his eyes. “Don’t listen to him, Wilbur. You are enough,” he said.

“Hey– it’s fine. George– Nick– he was just asking a question.” He pulled his hand from Nick’s grasp. “Clay, you’re fine. I mean, I used to feel kind of replaced, but it’s literally been years and I’m completely over it. Techno’s my brother, and we’re fine with each other now,” he explained, trying to quell the tension in the air. 

The three teens nodded slowly, having a silent conversation with each other through mutual glances.

“Well, you’re still coming with us after school, right?” George asked, changing the topic.

He chuckled softly, nodding. “Yes, George. How many times do you want to hear it? I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Wilbur did nothing during his final class except stare at the clock and feel his eyelids growing heavy again, completely unable to pay attention to what the teacher was saying. Something about manifest destiny? He couldn’t care less about American History.

“ The policy of an American sphere of influence, and of non-intervention in European affairs was dubbed the ‘Monroe Doctrine.’ Following 1870, it was used as a rationale for U.S. intervention in Latin America,” the teacher droned on. With every excruciating second that passed, Wilbur could feel himself dying inside.

As soon as the bell rang, he saw various students jumping out of their seats and rushing out, all chatting with their friends from the class. However, Wilbur was unfortunate enough to not share a class with any of his friends at all, besides AP Lit with George, of course.

He grabbed his bag and nodded a wordless ‘goodbye’ to his teacher as he headed out the door. Pulling out his phone, he began to stare down at the screen as he walked, rendering him unable to notice the figure approaching him until he practically ran into it.

“Hey, watch where you're walking you freakazoid.”

Wilbur looked up at the familiar voice and was met with Techno standing in front of him with a hand on his hip. Wordlessly, he turned around, starting towards his car.

“Oh, hey! I was actually just gonna text you,” he said, walking beside his brother.

“...About?” Techno asked, motioning with his hand for Wilbur to spit it out. 

“About you giving me a ride– you don’t have to,” he explained, “I’m going to see some friends after school.”

“Wait a sec. So what I’m hearing is that you’re gonna leave me alone with Tommy?!” The oldest shuddered, which forced a chuckle out of Wilbur. 

“He’s not that bad, drama queen,” he muttered. “Just stick him on his game.” His eyes drifted away before he remembered something. “Oh, speaking of annoying blondes, do you know a guy named Clay?” he said, stirring the pot.

Techno’s immediate eye roll gave him all the answers he needed. “Oh my GOD, he’s like, sooooo annoying! It’s like, he met one other gay person in his stupid class and suddenly got all hot and horny.” He groaned. “As if! He could never tap this.” He gestured to himself, drawing attention to his strong frame and long, pink hair. “Why do you ask? Ugh– don’t tell me you're friends with that queef weasel.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you then.” Wilbur looked away, smirking at the look of betrayal his brother instantly donned.

“Wilbur! He is like, frozen yogurt personified” –he turned around and grabbed his brother’s shoulders suddenly– “and we are ice cream! The two should never mix! He’s probably gonna try and flirt with you the way he’s flirting with me!”

“Relax, king. He’s just a friend,” Wilbur said, patting the other’s head condescendingly. 

Techno shook his hand off of him. “Oh my God! I know more about boys than you ever will. You better stay away from that overgrown purse turd or I will have a cow, so help me!” he exclaimed, shaking his brother which elicited stares from a few surrounding students. 

“Motherfucker– chill. I know how to fend people off, and Clay isn’t dangerous, alright?” He stepped back, shaking his head. “If you hate him, or think he’s creepy or whatever, then so be it. Just don’t crush his spirits too badly, okay? He’s fragile.” 

“I don’t haaaate him– and he’s not creepy, I just d—” Before Techno could finish his thought, he was interrupted by the very subject of their conversation.

‘Speak of the devil and he shall appear…’

“Hey, Wilbur!” Clay’s voice rang through the air. “And, uh, hey Techno…” His face immediately flushed and he looked away. The brothers turned to stare at him, the two blinking in unison. “Oh, right! How silly and goofy of me to forget! You guys are siblings!” the green-eyed teen called out as if he had rehearsed.

“That was really good!” George appeared next to Clay, side-eyeing him. 

“Shut up?” he said, glaring at the other, whose grin was beginning to resemble the Cheshire Cat.

“Hey,” Wilbur said as the two friends approached, “I was just letting Techno know about our plans.”

“Yeah. Hey, Techno,” Clay said, his voice dropping noticeably lower. Wilbur’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked over to George, who appeared like he was going to burst into laughter at any moment. 

“... You said that twice, now,” Techno said, limply holding out two fingers. 

George leaned over as if to share a secret, but he talked intentionally loud enough for all of them to hear. “You’re right, Claybert, he is really hot.” 

Wilbur immediately picked up on the game he was playing and turned to watch his brother’s reaction.

“I did not say that!!!” Clay spun on his heel to make dead eye contact with George and smacked him on the shoulder multiple times, his face now beet red. At this point, the brunette was done holding back his laughter.

Techno only yawned, appearing to glare daggers at Clay. He looked ready to kill him. 

Clay exclaimed, “FUCK YOU ALL!! I’M WAITING IN THE CAR!! YOU’LL BE LUCKY IF I’M STILL THERE BY THE TIME YOU GET OUT!!” His voice cracked suddenly which gave everyone a bad case of second-hand embarrassment. He then whipped around and swiftly walked away, flipping off George, who only laughed harder.

“Right, for sure!” he projected between laughs. With a shake of his head, he turned his attention to the pink-haired wall that stood in front of him. “I’m George, It’s nice to meet you.” He held out his hand.

“Oh, how British of you. No wonder you and Wilbur clicked.” Techno grabbed his hand and shook it, his expression softening. 

“Oh? Do you talk about me at home, Wilbur?” he asked, still shaking hands.

Wilbur’s eyes widened. “...Uh, a little, yeah.”

George laughed. “Aw, how sweet!” He dropped Techno’s hand and stepped towards the other. “We should probably go, though– before Clay keels over and dies. We cannot have Nick driving.” He made a ‘barf’ noise, a smile shining through his words.

He nodded, moving closer to the shorter boy. “Uh– yeah…” The two started off, but Wilbur quickly turned around to address his brother one more time. “Oh– bye Techno! Can you let dad know I’m out if he gets home before me?” 

“Whatever, I’m gonna find Tommy. Don’t get drunk or high, and don’t pork without protection,” Techno joked, watching the two walk off together.

Wilbur looked at George– who was giggling at the remark– and felt heat spread throughout his face, noticing something new about his friend.

‘Has he always had those freckles…?’

“Why would you do that!?” Clay yelled, eyes locked on the road as they sped down it. George hadn’t stopped giggling since they all got in the car, and Nick had to resort to asking Wilbur what had exactly happened– and when he had heard, he began to laugh at Clay as well.

“Because you act so stupid when you have a crush!” George responded, leaning his head against the car window. “I was just humbling you! I couldn't resist!”

“Humbling me…? HUMBLING ME?!” Clay gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. “I can never speak to him again!!”

“Wait wait wait— what are you gonna do when Wilbur eventually invites us to his house? We’ll have to meet his family!” Nick laughed out.

His eyes widened. “Wilbur, I’m never going to your house! Techno will trap me in the basement or something!! Did you see the way he looked at me? I wanted to run for the hills!”

Wilbur burst out laughing. “We don’t even have a basement! It’s Florida!” He shook his head. “Also, don’t pay too much attention to the way he looks at you. If you think he’s pissed or vengeful or anything like that, you’re honestly just looking at his resting face,” he informed. “He’ll probably never acknowledge your existence again, though, so you have that to look forward to.”

Clay let out a frustrated yell, breaking a little too hard at the stoplight. Upon closer inspection, Wilbur could see a few veins here and there popping out of his neck and arms.

“Try not to kill us, will you!” George leaned forward to fit in between Nick and Clay, resting his elbows on the center console.

“Maybe don’t embarrass me in front of hot guys then?! Or just– hot people in general?!” he snapped, half-joking. “Sorry, Wilbur!”

“You should be! He’s literally my brother!” Wilbur cringed, shaking the mere thought of Techno being hot out of his brain. 

“Clay, it’s green,” Nick said, gripping onto the ‘oh shit’ bar. The blonde looked over at him and pressed down on the gas hard, causing George to fall into the backseat with Wilbur. 

Nick gritted his teeth, slowly turning to glare at the other. “How the fuck did you get your license again?” 

“No backseat driving! You should’ve driven here yourself if you know so much!” 

“Yeah, no backseat driving!” George called, from the backseat.

Nick went dead silent. “Hey, George?” he said, not even turning to face him.

“Yes?”

“Eat my ass.”

Chapter Text

Wilbur was expecting the other boys to run into the water the moment they arrived, given that the three of them had changed into swimwear, but much to his surprise, everyone stayed on the sand. Or George and Nick did, at least, since Clay stayed behind to grab some stuff from the car. They even sat down in the spot where Wilbur first visited the beach.

‘How convenient!’ He thought.

Nick laid down completely, sighing as he let the sun’s rays be absorbed by his skin. “Ohhh my God…” He stretched out a bit, letting out more satisfied noises. “I could literally do this twenty-four-seven.” Another sigh slipped out of him as he closed his eyes, relaxing into the warm sand.

George started pulling off his shoes. “You’d definitely get sunburnt.” He said, looking down at Nick.

“Shut your face.” Nick opened an eye to squint at him. “At least it takes longer than ten minutes for me to burn, Brit.” He sat up slightly, using his hand as a visor to look around for his bag. 

“I’ve been here for six years!” George exclaimed, before flicking Nick’s forehead, which caused him to recoil back and kick up a mound of sand which– thankfully– flew in the opposite direction as them.

“It gets sunny sometimes in England...” Wilbur interjected, feeling a small need to defend his nationality. George snorted, and shot Wilbur a look as if to say ‘You’re lying through your teeth’. “What!” He sniffed. “I only said sometimes .”

George giggled and laid down in the sand with Nick. The sun made his ivory skin appear to sparkle.

“Hey hey hey!” Clay said, finally joining them. Straps belonging to multiple bags were overlapping on his shoulders and across his chest, and an absurd amount of bottles containing miscellaneous creams and liquids were tangled in his fingers.  “No one is allowed to lay down or do anything until they put on sunscreen!” He expertly dropped one of the bottles, which planted itself in the sand perfectly upright.

George sat up and brushed the sand off his back. “Right– sorry, Clay. Thank you!”

Clay sighed, looking at his friend through his eyebrows. “What would you do without me, George?” He chortled at his own joke.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’d actually experience happiness?” George reached over to grab the sunscreen, applying it to sections of his face and on his shoulders.

Nick sat up. “Ooooh, you might need an extra layer of sunscreen for that burn!” He goaded, before noticing one of the bags hanging from Clay’s shoulder. “My bag– give it!” He reached out and made grabby-hands, resembling a toddler.

With a huff, Clay tossed the bag over to Nick, who fumbled before catching it. He reached in and fished around for his sunglasses, putting them on and laying back down.

After being sufficiently covered in sunscreen, George offered the bottle to Wilbur, who took it gratefully and whispered, “So, is Clay the designated mom friend of the group or something?”

George gasped and playfully shoved Wilbur before whispering back, “Stop! That’s literally what me and Nick say all the time!” He covered his mouth with his hands, stifling his infectious laugh.

“Really?” Wilbur snickered. “Well– is he?” He began to put a small bit of  sunscreen on his face and nose.

“Kind of, but I don’t know if it’s possible to be the designated mom friend if you designate yourself .” The smaller boy kept his voice low and gestured to Clay with his eyes. The blonde was setting up a beach umbrella for the group. “He just cares a lot,” George continued. “He’s like this every time we come to the beach.”

“But doesn’t that feel… suffocating sometimes?”

“Oh yeah, for sure. But we know he means well. Why?”

“Why what?”

“Dummy,” George nudged Wilbur softly with his elbow. “Why do you ask?” 

“Hey–” He nudged back, feeling his pulse pick up slightly. “Um, I don’t know. Just asking a question.”

“Then consider your question answered.” George beamed, then stood up. “Well, I’m gonna go see if Clay needs help with anything. Do you wanna come with me?”

“Sure.” Wilbur said, standing up as well, which earned him a shocked expression from George.

“Jesus,” He said, looking up at Wilbur. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you being like, ten feet tall!”

The taller boy chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “Well, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you being like, three feet tall. So I guess we’re even.” 

George laughed, pushed him lightly, and started over to Clay, who had set up a few beach chairs now, too. Wilbur followed behind him, oblivious to the wide grin that had spread across his face.

After all of Clay’s cautionary measures were checked off, everyone began to have fun. Nick laid down in the sand once more, George and Wilbur relaxed in the beach chairs, and Clay stood beneath the umbrella, looking out at the shoreline. 

Clay snickered. “Hey. You know what would be crazy?” He said, childlike excitement lacing his words. “Okay, I dare someone to run into the water!” The football player looked back and forth between the other three boys. 

“Uh, not it.” Wilbur said, for obvious reasons.

“Claybert, you’re about twelve years old.” George teased.

“I am not! I’m only four months younger than you!” Clay retaliated, eliciting an eye roll from George. “Well, Nick, are you gonna–”

“–Fine. I’ll do it,” Nick said, standing. “But if I don’t come back, assume I became a fish and assimilated into their society.” He joked. Wilbur tensed at the statement, his mouth pulling into a frown. 

“Okay, Joker . The fish society would think you’re way too smelly to join.” Clay tilted his head up, looking at a few seagulls flying over them.

“Wow, I’m hurt.” Nick fake sniffed. “Now I won’t do it.”

“What?! No, come on. Niiiiiickkkk…” Clay whined. “Please? For me? It’d be so crazy! Pleaaaaaaaseeee…” 

Nick scoffed. “You and I have very different ideas of what crazy is.”

“Please, Nick? I’ll take off my shirt…” He stepped into the sun towards his friend, raising his eyebrows faux-flirtatiously.

“Clay, you’ll do that for literally any reason. Besides, I was kidding. I’ll do it.”

“Yes!” Clay beamed. “But, I do kinda wanna take my shirt off…” He added. “I’m getting sweaty.”

“Then… do it?” Nick said, walking towards the shoreline. “Like I said, it’s not like you of all people need a reason to.”

“Aw, Nick! Thanks!”  Clay tugged the green tank top off his back, revealing his toned physique, which glowed in the sunlight. “That has to be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me!” He said, balling up the shirt and tossing it to George with a playful wink.

“It wasn’t a compliment, Clay. You’re a pretentious whore!” Nick hollered out, already approaching the water.

“Oh. Well then I hope you drown!” He shouted back.

George huffed out a laugh, dropping Clay’s shirt into a nearby bag and turning to Wilbur. “They’re so dramatic.” He remarked. “It’s like watching reality tv.”

“I guess. I never really watched any of that stuff.” Wilbur replied. He crossed his arms, catching Nick in the corner of his eye. He was getting closer to the tide, and Wilbur couldn’t help but feel a sort of second-hand nervousness even though nothing was going to happen to him .

Nick stepped closer, picking up his pace gradually until he broke out into a run. His feet splashed against the tide, the water coming to meet him. As he persisted, the waves began crashing into him, pushing and pulling at the teen until he went under. Wilbur waited for him to come back up… but he didn’t.

Wilbur’s eyes widened, and he searched for a head of messy brown hair reemerging somewhere further down, but he saw nothing of the sort. 

“Is he…” Wilbur trailed off while George leaned forward in his seat to watch Clay fret over the drinks in the cooler.

“He’s fine.” George said, trying to ease Wilbur’s worries, concern nowhere to be found in his tone. “The oceans here aren’t like the ones in England. There’s nothing to worry about.” 

“But I can’t see him..!” Wilbur stressed, glancing back and forth between George and the ocean. “We’re not going to just sit here are we? What if he’s caught in a riptide?” He bit at his nails and swayed on his feet. 

“Wilbur, if you’re that concerned, why don’t you go get him?” Clay said, jokingly. “We come here almost every day, remember? None of us have died yet .”

“I— why don't you go get him?” Wilbur snapped, anxiety crashing over him like the waves he was watching. “You’re the one who dared him. If something happens to him, you’ll be to blame.”

“It’s alright, we promise.” George said gently, pushing up from his seat to place an arm on Wilbur’s shoulder, who only shrugged him off and crouched down to undo his boots. 

Once he placed them aside with his phone and other belongings, he began to walk towards the shore by himself. He wasn’t going to reveal anything to Clay and George if he could help it, but if something was happening to Nick and his own friends couldn’t be bothered enough to help him, then Wilbur would.

He gestured towards the sea with wide eyes and looked back at George, who simply shook his head. Then– as if on cue– the tide washed over Wilbur’s feet, causing his imaginary timer to start ticking down. Alarmed, he turned around and began hastening into the warm Florida water, diving with conviction into the deep, blue underworld. 

Wilbur kicked for a moment and tried to propel himself forwards until the bright yellow scales washed over his legs. He squirmed for a moment, the forced hiatus he took from swimming in the ocean having an unexpected effect on his body. He urged himself to recall how it felt— gliding through the freezing English sea, passing under ships and animals, the currents guiding him wherever he needed to go— and after establishing a comfortable rhythm, he started to push through the water with his tail. 

He plunged deeper and deeper into the ocean, and pushed his arms forward suddenly to stop his momentum. Bubbles fluttered out of his nose as he pivoted his head back and forth, trying to locate Nick.

He descended further with a flick of his tail, light blue fading into a deep indigo. He looked around once more through squinted eyes, a sense of panic creeping up on him.

He was about to turn to the shore line again to see if there was an area he may have missed, when a movement out of the corner of his eye caused him to instinctively turn his head. Carefully, he twirled his body to face whatever swam behind him, only to be met with wide, green eyes only a few inches from his face. Wilbur jerked back, opening his mouth to yelp, but silent bubbles rushed past his lips.

The two figures stared at each other in utter shock. 

Wilbur’s thoughts rang through his head. ‘There’s no fucking way...’

It was Nick, just as he’d always been, but with one small difference...

In place of his legs was a tail– an authentic one, not some sort of costume. A real, functioning tail that was part of his body . Its scales formed a pattern of vertical black and white stripes that ran down the appendage like they were painted on, but Wilbur knew they weren’t . He saw the way the scales glimmered softly under the water, and he’d seen it before, too. On himself... on his own real-not-a-costume-or-a-sick-joke mermaid tail .

‘If it’s real, then that means…’

Wilbur blinked. Nick blinked.

‘Oh.

‘OH...’

Everything clicked into place.

Nick motioned up, using his tail to push him to the surface. Wilbur followed, emerging from the water and letting out a gasp. 

“What?!” Nick yelled. “What?!”

“How?!” Wilbur shouted back, fighting against the waves. 

“What did you say?!”

“I said, h—”

“—Ugh! I can barely hear you, follow me!” Nick yelled, dipping below the water and pushing off at a quicker speed. Wilbur ducked under to follow.

He found himself struggling to keep up with Nick, who was weaving through colorful coral with little to no issue, and it was clear he had taken this route multiple times in the past. Despite this, the two swam for a little longer, Wilbur getting tangled up in seaweed more times than he’d like to admit.

Eventually, Nick had led him to a hidden cave deep below the surface and Wilbur stopped right at the entrance. He observed how the water inside appeared darker than that of the open sea, and as he swam through the near-pitch-blackness, he couldn’t help but feel like he was swimming into the stomach of a giant, Floridian ocean monster.

Catching a glimpse of light shining above them, Nick darted upwards with Wilbur close behind, and the two boys broke the surface and inhaled deeply. The cold, dank air rushed through their lungs, and Wilbur waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness before surveying his surroundings. They appeared to be in some kind of underwater cave pool.

Nick drifted to the shallow rocks off to the side, and Wilbur assumed he should do the same. 

“So… you have.. A tail…?” Nick started, shifting so his own tail floated up. Wilbur stared at him. 

“Um, no — So you have a tail?!” Wilbur exclaimed. “But then, how do you go to the beach all the time?! Does everyone just… know?! Are mermaids normal around here?!” 

Nick squinted at him. “Dude, what. No, of course not. You talk about Florida like it’s an alien planet.” He said, cracking up at the latter-half of the statement.

Wilbur raised his voice, causing it to echo through the cave. “Okay, but then that means you just risked everyone finding out!! What if someone saw you?!” 

Nick put his hands up in mock surrender. “Chill out, Wilbur. No one’s ever seen me.” 

“ Sure, ” Wilbur scoffed. “Not even Clay or George–” He froze as soon as the words left his mouth. “Oh my God,” He rushed, “Please don’t tell them about this, okay?! I don’t know what I’ll do if they know— or what they’ll do if they know!!”

Nick tried to interject, “Uh, Wilbur, It’s fine. Clay and G—”

Wilbur’s eyes widened. “—You can’t tell them, Nick!! We can’t risk becoming headlines for Florida news!!” His hands were noticeably trembling, and he wondered how long they’d been like that. 

“What?!” Nick’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Uh— sure, sure, whatever man. Just calm down, alright?” He patted Wilbur’s back in an attempt to soothe him. “I uh, won’t tell them. Actually uh…” His olive eyes darted around the cave. “They don’t even know about me yet. So, uh, yeah. You’re good, okay?” 

Wilbur relaxed into the touch, registering Nick’s words and turning to meet his gaze. “Are you sure, Nick?” The shaking of his hands ebbed away gradually and he felt his concerns being put on hold.

“Yeah man, don’t worry. This stays between us.” Nick nodded his head and grinned.

Wilbur waved goodbye to his friends after they dropped him off, and started up the stone path to his house. He felt sick after everything that had happened. Sure, Nick promised him secrecy but was it really safe to trust someone he’d known for such a short amount of time? He sighed and grabbed his keys out of his pocket, unlocking the door and stepping into his house. He wanted nothing more than to just crash in his room.

He didn’t even get halfway through pulling off his shoes when he heard Phil round the corner and stop near the couch. Wilbur stood up to see his father leaning on it, seemingly just standing there.

He let out a groan. “What do you want?” Wilbur said, walking past him. Phil followed behind, wearing a puzzled look.

“Hm? I was just going to ask you if you had fun...” Phil said, as the two reached the kitchen. 

Wilbur shuffled through the cabinets to find something to snack on, not sparing his father so much as a glance. 

Hearing a chair push out, he looked over to see his younger brother walk towards them and lean on the counter, his eyes glued to that cursed Nintendo Switch. Wilbur grit his teeth, but went back to rummaging through the cabinets. 

“Since when do you care if I have fun?” Wilbur snapped, grabbing a granola bar and shoving it into his pocket.

His father seemed shocked at the sudden attitude but quickly concealed his surprise, putting on a more neutral expression. “Wilbur, I–”

“–Jesus, maybe you should go wash the sand out of your crotch and come back when you feel less crabby .” Tommy interjected, chortling to himself. Wilbur took a step towards him, his mouth pressed into a flat line. 

“What..?” 

“It’s a pun, because you went to the bea—”

“Tommy, SHUT UP !” Wilbur barked suddenly, sending a piercing stare through his younger brother. Tommy only widened his eyes, dropping his Switch on the counter in shock, his pupils quivering slightly.

“Wilbur!” Phil shouted in surprise, stepping between the two siblings. “Where on Earth is all this coming from? What’s wrong with you?” He spoke, a cautious glint in his eyes.

Wilbur almost asked his father to repeat that. ‘...What’s wrong with ME?’ He thought, feeling rage boil up inside him. ‘He has no fucking idea what I’ve been through today. But I guess it’s my fault for assuming I’d be able to seek repose in my own fucking house…’

He took a step back and laughed out, a cruel smile cracking across his face. “That is just rich , Phil.” He turned to walk out of the kitchen, pausing to give his final piece, his voice dripping with venom. “Oh, and thanks for talking to me for the first time in days!” 

Phil followed persistently, close on his son’s heels. “Wil– help me out here. What’s the matter? You haven’t acted like this since–” Wilbur paused to whip back around, his unbridled rage starting to pour out. 

“–Since what? Since you adopted Tommy?!” Wilbur spat, causing silence to dominate the house. He couldn’t even hear his own heartbeat pounding in his chest. “...Or what about when you adopted Techno?” He continued, unable to quell his thoughts from spilling out of his mouth. “Yeah, I fucking noticed, Phil. Don’t think I didn’t realize all those years ago that that was just your– your sick, cowardly way of telling me I wasn’t enough for you!!” Wilbur shouted, daring to step closer to his father. It was too late to turn back now. 

Phil’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. He was speechless. He appeared to be contemplating the right thing to say, but every passing second felt like another nail in his coffin.

“Wilbur…” He spoke gently. “If this is about me, then make it about me. Please don’t drag Tommy or Techno into it.”

“Oh!” Wilbur scoffed. “Yeah, because God forbid I– I even mention your precious little new family!!” He shrieked. “I’m not the fucking idiot you raised me to be, Phil! You want to separate the past from the future so fucking bad, but no amount of moving across the world will ever create enough distance between you and the mess you made!!” 

Phil gaped.

“I know it’s because I look like her.” Wilbur balled up his fists, digging his fingernails into his palms. “But what I don’t understand– and what I think I deserve to know— is WHY?! Why do you even bother keeping me around when all you do is tend to Tommy and Techno?! Is it because having to see me every day gives you an excuse to mope around the house all the time and— and pretend that you actually MISS HER?!” Wilbur heaved, his eyes becoming glassy. “Do you just keep me around as some kind of ghostly remnant of her?! Is that why you don’t ever say anything to me!?” His voice shook. 

Phil just stood there, silent. 

“Nothing to say?!” Wilbur waved his arms up. “What’s new!”

Then, he noticed the tears trickling down his father’s face. It was a staggering sight, like an actor breaking character. 

Phil sniffled, ducking his face to wipe away the tears, letting out a watery laugh. “Sorry, sorry...” He huffed out.

Wilbur shifted his weight, unable to even look at his dad as he was now. He did this. He made his dad cry .

‘...Maybe I would’ve been better off left alone in England. Maybe I should've gone through with jumping out the window. Maybe I should’ve—’ His thoughts prodded at him, as if waking a sleeping beast. 

He screwed his eyes shut, putting the idea from his mind as quick as it inserted itself, and let out a gasp of air once he realized his body was screaming for it. 

“Oh, Wil… Don’t feel bad...” Phil’s voice was gentle. He neared closer to Wilbur, who kept his eyes squeezed shut, choking out a broken breath. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, gently rubbing up and down. He ripped his arm away from Phil, stumbling back a few steps. 

“Um..? What the hell?” Techno’s voice sounded behind him. He pivoted to see his brother staring back and forth between him and their father, bewilderment clear on his face. 

Wilbur felt everyone’s eyes on him— just like at school. It made his skin crawl, it made him want to throw up, it made him want to scream . 

He locked eyes with Techno for only a moment, letting another gasp of air out, and pushed past him to scale up the stairs and race up to his room. 

When Wilbur slammed his door, it felt different than the door slams prior. He was fully aware that, in closing that door, he was erecting a wall between him and his family. Nothing would be the same after this. 

He slid down the door, hands grasping at the carpet as he let tears trail down his cheeks. He made his dad cry, he made Tommy scared of him, and Techno would definitely hate him once he found out what he said to Phil.

He silently cried out to whatever transcendent being would be of use to him. He wished to be better for his brothers and for his dad to care about him. He begged for control over his emotions. He wanted so many things—

But for the first time in a while, he just wanted his mom.

A gentle knock on the door jolted Wilbur out of his spiral. He didn’t know how much time had passed, only that he moved from the floor to his bed and that he couldn’t stop picking at his fingers. But it was either that, or destroy his guitar, and Wilbur didn’t know if he’d be able to get a new one after what just transpired.. 

A second round of knocks sounded before Wilbur heard his older brother call his name. 

“Wilbur? Um, hey… Are you in there?” Techno called out, walking on eggshells.

“Yeah, come in.” Wilbur replied, wincing as his voice cracked.

The door opened slowly as his brother peaked his head in, looking around the room for Wilbur. Spotting him, he walked through and shut the door behind him, crossing to Wilbur’s bed. He sat next to the brunette, making sure to keep a couple inches of space between them. 

“So…” Techno began, trying to muster the courage to make eye contact.

“So...” Wilbur answered back, staring at the posters on his wall.

“So like, what the hell happened back there?” Techno asked.

“Don’t act like Phil didn’t tell you.” Wilbur grumbled.

“Um, duh.” He answered. “But like, I want to hear your side. God, I’m not an asshole.”

Wilbur let out a soft laugh, pulling his knees up against his chest. 

“It’s just— you’re always his perfect little child. Well– you and Tommy. He doesn’t even put my grades on the fridge anymore ever since you started getting straight A’s.” Wilbur sniffled, tucking his face into his knees. 

Techno hummed, “Oh my God. Tommy’s getting straight A’s? I owe a lot of people money then…” He said, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Shut up,” Wilbur fought back a chuckle. “You know what I meant…”

“Yeah, I did. But like, the fridge grades thing isn’t your fault.” He said. “You’re a kid . He should’ve been ready to take on both of us when he said yes to fostering me. Like, common sense much?” 

Wilbur let himself laugh, squeezing his eyes shut to hold back more tears. “Yeah, probably.”

After a moment of silence, Techno asked, “But like, real talk— do you really feel like you matter less to him than the rest of us..?” 

Wilbur felt his bottom lip tremble, shrugging his shoulders to give a noncommittal answer. Techno raised his eyebrows in response, and the two fell back in awkward silence.

“I-It’s stupid. It’s been like this for the last three years.” Wilbur finally spoke. “I should be used to it by now, but this always happens. It always becomes some explosive thing...” 

“Um, what the fuck?” Techno turned to face him. “This is not your fault, Wil. Like, yes– you shouldn’t have gone all Solange-in-the-elevator at Tommy like that, but it’s Phil’s job to uh, be a parent? Like, to all of us. Just because you’re the easy child doesn’t mean you don’t need a dad to lean on...” He placed an awkward hand onto Wilbur’s head just as he began to shake with the first sob.

He ran his hand through his brother’s curls, allowing him to get the rest of his tears out. It took a few minutes until Wilbur was back to sniffles, his breathing slowing down.

“I’ll… talk to him.” Techno said slowly, as he pulled Wilbur into a hug that wasn’t particularly conventional— Wilbur’s limbs were too gangly and Techno was an awful hugger. But, it was enough for the two siblings. 

Wilbur pressed his face into Techno’s shoulder, not crying anymore but still glassy-eyed. 

“Thanks, Pinky.” Wilbur’s voice was muffled by Techno’s shirt. “Sorry you had to see me like this…”

“Hey. We’ve all got our junk, hun.” He pointed an awkward finger gun at his brother and giggled softly.

Wilbur half-smiled. Techno always seemed to know how to break down his walls. 

Chapter Text

While driving back from dropping off Wilbur, the three friends wasted no time divulging into a scattered conversation about what happened at the beach.

“So, Nick, care to explain what went on between you and Wilbur?” Clay asked, taking a left turn onto George’s street. 

“Uh…” he started, “well I saw him dive into the water all of a sudden, and he looked super like, shook up, so I swam over and–” 

His jaw dropped, “—Nick! You swam over?! ” 

“Yeah, but–”

“—Did he see your tail?!” George said, pulling himself onto the center console, panicked. 

Clay scoffed, “Man– George, I told you that’s why they were down there for so long!”

“What! No! Let me speak!” Nick yelled, turning to face the blonde. “He just knows about me! He was freaking out a ton so I just told him you guys didn’t know!”

“Oh, come on now!” Clay huffed, slamming on the brakes in front of George’s house, causing the other two to jerk forward. “So now he’s gonna put two and two together and figure out the rest of us!” he clamored, his voice rising in pitch.

“Guys! He promised me he’d never tell!” he tried to placate. “He told me that he never, ever breaks his promises!” 

“That’s not that reassuring...” George said, grabbing his backpack and opening the car door. “Just— we have to be more careful now, guys. If either of you assholes hurt him again, he’s definitely gonna spill our secret.”

Clay nodded, agreeing, but Nick furrowed his brow at the other brunette. 

“I don’t think so guys, I think he’s pretty trustworthy when it comes to this...” he vouched.

“I’m sure he is, Nick,” George said, stepping out and walking up to the passenger window. “Look, I want to trust him too– you know I do– but this isn’t something we can just trust in. We have to be sure he won’t tell, and I just don’t know if I’m there yet.” 

“Yeah, same,” Clay said, “just because Nick can’t keep his mouth shut doesn’t mean we need to be totally fucked too.” 

“What the hell, Clay?!” he punched the other teen’s shoulder.

George rolled his eyes, “You’re both so annoying. Text me when you get home.” He moved away from the car, a smile forming on his face, “We can talk about this more when I don’t have literal mountains of AP Lit homework.” 

Clay leaned back into his seat, nodding and rubbing his shoulder, “Right. See ya, George!” 

“Bye, Gogs,” Nick waved as the car pulled away from the driveway.

George shook his head, turning and heading up to his door, already able to feel his phone buzzing in his pocket with rapid-fire texts from Nick.

When George woke up the next morning, he noticed it was lighter outside than it usually was. Alarmed, he checked the time on his phone and realized he had slept in.

‘Ugh, how splendid,’ he thought, ‘Now I don’t have time for breakfast.’

He looked out his window, sighing in relief when he saw no car outside his house.

‘Okay, Clay’s probably going to arrive in a few minutes or so– I should have enough time to at least get dressed and brush my teeth…’

He forced himself out of bed and trailed to his dresser, pulling out an oversized, black hoodie and blue sweatpants– and as he was putting them on, he couldn’t help but recoil slightly whenever his cold fingers grazed his skin. He examined his appearance in the full-body mirror against the wall, and stepped closer to adjust his hair to his liking, and when he was satisfied with the way it looked, he continued on to the bathroom.

After brushing his teeth with extreme caution– as one does when they’re a mermaid– George headed downstairs and slipped on the same pair of grey sneakers he wore nearly every day. He was known to prioritize comfort over style, especially when he had to rush like this.

He grabbed his bag and walked out the front door, scrolling through his phone while he waited in the driveway for his ride. Then, after a couple more minutes, George caught Clay’s black Lexus rounding the corner in his peripheral. He put his phone away, giving a tired half-wave to his friend as he pulled in.

Clay greeted George as soon as he climbed into the front seat, “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty!” he said, earning himself a groan from the other.  

George rubbed his eyes, “Morning,” he mumbled.

The blonde giggled and muttered under his breath, “ Morning…” he said, mimicking the other’s accent.

He cocked an eyebrow, “What.” 

“Your accent is always a little thicker when you’re tired,” he replied, putting the car in reverse. “It’s a little funny…” a goofy smile crossed his face as he backed out of the driveway. George only sighed in response, resting his chin on his fist.

Noticing his friend’s low-energy mood, Clay handed him the AUX cable, giving him a kind smile before turning his attention forwards. The brunette gratefully connected his phone to the car audio and put on a playlist, turning the volume up slightly as they exited his neighborhood.

After hearing the intro of the first song, Clay asked, “Oh! Is this from Lorde’s new album?” 

“Yeah. I actually quite like it. I don’t get why people are saying it’s not as good as Melodrama...”

“Well, I don’t know a ton about her music, so I don’t have an opinion on that. But, I do really like this song! I like the end– when all the instruments come in! It sounds really pretty!”

George chuckled, “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“I did!” the green-eyed teen beamed before changing the topic. “Anyways– George, I have a game plan! I was thinking last night about ways to talk to Techno, and then I was like, ‘Oh my God, I can just talk to him during break!’ so– I will!” he said, gesturing wildly with his free hand.

“Jesus, Claybert. Are you still hung up on Techno? Your crushes don’t usually last this long, I’m starting to think you’re obsessed.” George grumbled, rereading his latest text conversation with Wilbur. 

Clay glanced over for a moment, grinning, “ You’re one to talk,” he snickered, turning onto the main road. “How late did you stay up last night talking to Wilbur ?” 

The other looked away, “Just because I think he’s cute doesn’t mean I’m obsessed with him.”

“Okay, and just because I think Techno is hot doesn’t mean I’m obsessed with him! ”

“It’s different for you, Claybert. You think everyone is hot– remember when you challenged yourself to have a new crush every day of February last year?”

“It’s the month of love! I wanted to make sure everyone felt appreciated! Besides, there are some hidden gems at that school!” 

“And you’re saying Techno is one of these hidden gems?”

“No! He’s like, the opposite of a hidden gem. He’s an obvious gem.”

“Mhm,” George said, looking out the window. “You know, with all this talking about boys, we’re hardly passing the Bechdel test.”

Clay burst into laughter, “George! We’re guys! That test isn’t for us!” he exclaimed with a bright grin. “Anyways, the reason I brought up my plan to you in the first place is ‘cause I kinda need your help...” 

“How so?” 

“I was wondering if you could ask Wilbur where Techno’s locker is. That way as soon as US History ends I can go and talk to him. Yesterday may have been a flop, but I’m going to be super smooth this time!” 

George giggled, “Oh, I almost forgot about yesterday. You looked like a complete fool,” he teased, sending a quick text to Wilbur. “Okay, I just texted him. Now– if that will be all– I’d like to just listen to my music. I’m exhausted.” 

“What? No– let’s chat! Clay and George! Besties forever!”

“Yes, besties forever, I know. But you’re awfully chipper for 7 in the morning, and I slept in and had to skip breakfast, so I just want to s—”

“–What?! George, you didn’t have anything to eat?!”

“No… I just said I slept in and had to skip breakfast.”

Clay tutted, shaking his head, “That’s no good. Here– I had a protein bar before my morning run, but I didn’t have like, a full meal, so do you wanna make a quick pit stop to get some yummy in our tummies?” he wiggled his eyebrows, glancing over to the other to gauge his reaction.

“ Never say ‘yummy in our tummies’ ever again,” he gave him a hard stare and sighed, adding on, “but sure, that sounds good. Honestly, thank God you want food, too. I was about to start ripping heads off if I had to wait all the way until lunch to eat.” 

“Ripping heads off? Stop, that’s so funny, George!” 

“Kill me.” A chime sounded in his hands, “Oh, that’s probably Wilbur,” he unlocked his phone to read the message, “yeah, it is. He says Techno’s locker is right by the cafeteria— locker 744. But he said ‘I think’ after, so I suppose you should take that with a grain of salt?”

“Yes!! Tell Wilbur that I love him!” Clay shouted, shimmying his shoulders in victory.

“I’m not telling him that,” George pulled a face, slouching down in his seat.

“My bad, I forgot you want him all to yourself...”

“Shut up!”

Clay giggled, “So, where do you want to stop for breakfast?” he asked, putting on his turn signal.

“Starbucks?” 

“But that’s so unhealthy!” 

“You literally demolish anything in front of you. I’m sure your metabolism can handle a microwaved egg sandwich,” George responded, sitting up straight. “I just don’t want to go inside anywhere. Please, Claybert?” 

“Ugh, fine,” Clay let out a fake huff and put in directions to the nearest Starbucks.

They ended up arriving to school five minutes late.

George hurried into AP Lit and sat in the back row next to Wilbur, eliciting a few indiscreet stares from classmates.

“Hi! Sorry I’m late– Clay and I stopped to get breakfast on the way, did I miss anything?” he whispered.

“Uh, hey,” Wilbur responded, not looking away from Sam, who was mid-lecture, “we’re just going over the answers for the Poe homework, did you get them all?”

“Uhm, most of them... I don’t like the essay questions, so I didn’t do them,” he let out a nervous giggle, causing Wilbur’s lips to curl into a smile. George’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before he turned to the board.

As the lesson droned on, he found himself sneaking a few quick glances at the boy next to him. He silently observed Wilbur’s pensive expression as he wrote down notes; the way he scribbled things out instead of erasing them to save time, the crude pictures he drew in the margins. He looked as if he was made of stone, like a statue– or of steel, like an android.

George snapped out of his daze, pretending to listen for a bit longer, to no avail. Bored, he leaned over again and whispered, “Sorry I stopped replying all of a sudden last night. I fell asleep right after I finished the homework.” He began to fidget with one of his pens, “I was so tired, I ended up sleeping in– that’s why I look like this,” he said, gesturing to himself subtly.

“It’s fine. I fell asleep too. I had a rough night,” Wilbur replied, hurriedly jotting down something Sam had just said, “and, uh, I think you look fine.” He shot George a reticent look, promptly turning his head forward again.

“Oh, um, thank you…” George smiled softly, his cheeks warming. “And– I’m sorry your night was rough.” 

“It’s fine. Uh– but I don’t really wanna talk about it.” 

“Okay, you don’t have to!”

Wilbur sighed, hints of guilt detectable in his expression, “Thank you. So, um, any reason you asked for Techno’s locker number?” 

Sam’s voice projected to the back of the room, interrupting their hushed conversation, “George and Wilbur, c’mon guys, not during my class,” he warned. “You’re in high school. Don’t make me separate you like children, okay?”

George spoke up, putting on a convincing frown, “Sorry, Sam. Wilbur just asked about my dog. She’s at the vet right now— not doing too well…” 

“Oh–” Sam stuttered for a moment, concern washing over his face, “I’m very sorry to hear that, but– is there any way you can continue talking about it after class? Just– not when I’m teaching, sorry...” 

“Don’t worry, we will. Sorry again… It’s just been hard.”

Wilbur simply gaped at George, dumbfounded at his ability to lie so fast on his feet.

Throughout the rest of class, the boys kept glancing over to each other, sending occasional texts whenever Sam would turn his back. Then– when the homework review was over– worksheets were passed around for the class to work on independently, and the room broke out in low chatter. Wilbur leaned back in his seat and George folded his arms on his desk, resting his head in them. 

‘Maybe I can just sleep here… would anybody notice?’

He didn’t want to do the worksheet, but after picking his head up for a moment, he saw Wilbur was somewhat working on it. 

‘Maybe I can copy off of him…?’ he shook the thought from his head. ‘No, that wouldn’t be fair. He said he had a rough night. I should respect that.

‘But what exactly happened? Is he talking about seeing Nick as a mermaid?

‘Ugh, what if he pries about me and Clay now that he knows about Nick?

‘ I hate this stupid secret– it’s so much damned work to keep.’

Sam abruptly cleared his throat and clapped to draw everyone in again. Irate, George sat up straight to listen.

“Alright! We ran out of time today guys! Just finish the worksheets at home and turn them in tomorrow! You all catch that? No homework tonight, just the worksheets!” 

George sighed in relief, glad he could focus on it later– when he was more awake. He began to pack up his stuff, watching as the other students did the same; some handing in their finished worksheets, and others talking to their friends while they waited for the bell to ring. He spared a glance over to Wilbur, seeing him with his bag over his shoulder as well, looking down at his phone with a frown. 

George stood up, “Everything alright?” he asked.

“Oh! Uh, yeah— Techno just texted me saying my dad wants to talk about last night...” Wilbur looked down at the other, changing the subject, “um, speaking of Techno, why’d you want his locker number? You didn’t get to say.” 

“Right, since Sam rudely interrupted me,” George joked, starting past Wilbur to leave the classroom. “Well, Clay is planning on making a move on him today, or something like that.”

The bell rang and Wilbur followed, “Mm. And he wanted his locker number so he’d have a guaranteed way to find him?”

“Yes, precisely that. I might go with him, though, just to see it all unfold.” 

“Interested in watching the shitshow? How devious, George…” Wilbur smirked as they walked past Sam, who stopped them in their tracks.

“George, can you stay behind for a second?”

“Oh, um. Yeah,” George awkwardly turned around, walking back to Sam.

“Um, should I go…?”

“You can stay, Wilbur,” Sam said, walking around his desk to stand in front of George. He continued, “Listen, I’m terribly sorry about your dog. I had no idea, kiddo. And I’m sure calling you out in front of the whole class just made you feel worse– so I want to apologize for that.”

George sniffled, effortlessly falling back into the ruse, “It’s okay… I just need some time to heal. But thank you for your apology.” 

“You take all the time you need, okay? And don’t worry about the worksheet, either. I trust you know the material— just focus on your mental health for now.”

Wilbur’s eyes shot open, and George felt an urge to do the same, but he made sure to remain in character, “Thank you so much, Sam. You have no idea how much I needed this. You’re the best teacher ever!” he sniffled again, giving his teacher a soft smile.

“No problem, kiddo. Now go talk some more about it with Wilbur. Let it all out, and let me know if you want to speak with the school counselor.”

“I will! Thanks again!”

George turned away, joining Wilbur at the door and giving him a shocked look once Sam couldn’t see his face anymore. Once in the hallway, the two began cracking up immensely.

“Do you even have a dog, George?” Wilbur managed in between wheezes.

The other shook with laughter when he spoke, “No!” 

“Oh my God, then you just lied your way out of homework!”

“That wasn’t my intention! I swear, I just wanted to get us out of trouble when he caught us talking!”

“George, you’re some kind of accidental genius!”

He nudged the taller boy playfully, “Um, only accidental?” 

“My bad– you’re the smartest person on Earth ,” Wilbur said, nudging him back.

“That’s better,” George’s laughter faded, “okay– I have to go to math now. What class do you have next?” 

“Uh, art.”

George beamed, “Oh, my friend Eret is in that class! Do you know her?”

“I can’t say I do, sorry. But, I can pay extra attention when the teacher takes attendance to see who responds to the name, yeah?” a gentle hand found itself on the smaller boy’s shoulder.

‘Big hands…’ his heart began to race. ‘Agh! Wait, no– I need to leave!’

“Sounds splendid! Okay, bye!” George rushed. “Um, text me later!”

“I will, George. Cheers!”

Flustered, he parted ways with Wilbur, daring to look over his shoulder to steal one last glance at the boy– only to catch him doing the same. Heat spread throughout his face and he quickened his speed, silently praying this wouldn’t come up later.

George’s phone began blowing up with texts from Clay promptly after he was dismissed from math, causing him to let out a sigh; while he felt less tired now, he still considered it to be too early for the other’s antics. Begrudgingly, he headed towards the history building and noticed the blonde looking around, having just left class. George raised his hand to catch his attention, then made his way over.

Clay greeted his friend with a smile, “Georgie! Hey! How was English?” 

“Good, thanks for asking,” a tiny smirk formed on George’s face. “I accidentally got out of doing tonight’s homework, so I’m looking forward to taking a long nap after school. And you?” he tilted his head, “How was history?”

“Well, I think I got marked absent again,” Clay frowned. “They keep skipping my name during attendance– but I was there! You just saw me walk out!” 

“I did,” George agreed, “hm, maybe you should talk to the office about it?” 

“Good idea, I’ll try to remember to do that!” he gave the brunette a thumbs up. “Okay– so you said Techno’s locker is by the cafeteria, right?”

“That’s what Wilbur said, yes.”

“Well then let’s go! We can’t be wasting time!” he grabbed George’s hand and began bustling to their destination.

“Ah– Clay!” he whined, “Slow down! I’m still tired!”

“But you said you’d come along!”

“Yes, come along, not sprint across campus—” 

“—OH! Look, there he is!” Clay half-shouted when he saw Techno standing in front of his locker. He let go of George, making his way over to the senior.

Pleased to be able to move at his own pace, George put his hands in his pockets as he continued following his friend, “So you’re just chasing him now?” 

“No, I’m catching up with him! Don’t make it weird!” 

“ I’m not the one making this weird. You could’ve just– I don’t know– talked to Wilbur and had him set something up between the two of you? The way a normal person would do things?” he snarked, colliding against Clay’s back when the other stopped abruptly.

“Shh! Yeah, I could’ve, but now we’re doing this— and we have to make it look natural!” he whispered, his green eyes fixated on Techno putting in his locker combination.

“Okay, Claybert,” George scoffed. “Then let’s just go talk to him,” he began to walk ahead of the blonde.

“George! No, wait! What are you doing–”

“Hey, Techno!” he waved slightly to greet him. “We were just looking for you!”

Techno turned, watching his brother’s friend walk towards him with his eyebrows raised in suspicion, “Um… Hey? What do you want..?” he said, pulling his gym clothes out of his locker.

Clay shoved in front of the other boy before he could answer, shaking his head and grinning far too widely, “Nothing! We don’t want anything at all! I mean sort of– I mean, yes, kind of!” he said, stumbling over his words.

George snickered to himself, ‘So much for acting natural…’ 

Techno grimaced, “Oh, wow. Does this have something to do with Wilbur?” he closed his locker and crossed his arms. “Ugh, he probably told you about the fight he had with Phil, huh? Well there’s no tea, kay? You don’t need to get involved.” 

The two younger boys exchanged confused looks, ‘What fight? Is that what he was upset about in AP Lit..?’ George wondered.

Clay hummed in thought, “Well, uh, I didn’t hear about that– but, you know, we’re not just Wilbur’s friends! We want to be yours, too!” he said, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Um, you do,” George said, watching his friend fully embarrass himself. “I’m just here for moral support.”

“Work. I appreciate the honesty,” the senior gave a tiny smile to George, before turning back to Clay. “Well– if he didn’t tell you, then just forget what I said.”

The blonde nodded eagerly, “Okay! We will! But– uh, I was just wondering if you–” he cleared his throat. “You, uh– you look really nice today! I like what you did with your hair!”

Techno blinked, taken aback, “Um… I know? But thanks.”

“No problem! And I really like the color! Is it supposed to bring out your eyes? Or do they just sparkle like that on their own?” a sly, bright green wink followed the compliment.

Techno furrowed his eyebrows, suddenly breaking the intimidating eye contact he’d been holding with the other. Without a word, he turned away, walking towards the locker rooms. 

Clay hurriedly followed him, panic flashing across his face, “Oh! Are you going to P.E. early? That’s a good idea! The locker rooms can get so cr— whoa!” caught up in his haste, he tripped over his own legs, causing George to look away in embarrassment.

Techno reached out and grabbed the back of Clay’s shirt just in time to stop him from falling face-first into the concrete. Effortlessly, he pulled him back to his feet.

He huffed out a laugh. “Hello? Watch where you’re walking, maybe?” 

“Y-Yes! You’re so right!” Clay stammered, his face turning bright red.

“Yeah, I am. And next time, just lead with the genuine compliment– it’ll make things easier for both of us,” Techno advised, before turning and walking away once more.

Clay slowed to a stop, thinking out loud, “Next time..? ...Both of us?” his face lit up suddenly, realizing what the other had meant. “Wha– hey! Wait up!” 

George– who was still standing by Techno’s locker– watched as his friend sped up again to walk beside the senior. He let out an amused laugh, shaking his head before heading off to his next class.

When it came time for lunch, George dropped his food tray on the table to catch the other three teens’ attention. They all looked up from their respective phones, giving him smiles and waves as he sat down next to Wilbur.

Nick cheered, “George! About time!”

“Yes, thank God you’re here,” Wilbur added, crossing his arms and looking across the table at Clay, “he’s been insufferably giddy about something that happened with Techno, but he refuses to tell us– which is annoying as hell considering he’s my brother.”

Clay scoffed. “Just cause he’s your brother doesn’t mean you need to know everything about him. Besides, I was waiting for George!” 

“Well, I’m here now so go ahead, Claybert,” he said.

“Thank you, Georgie,” his blonde hair bobbed as he nodded his head. “I already told them the first part since you saw it all happen—” 

“— and it was an absolute reach if you ask me.”

“Nick, shut up! It was not! He said ‘next time’ ! Why would he say that if he wasn’t at least a little bit into me?”

Wilbur chimed in, “Techno will say whatever if it gets someone to leave him alone. He does it all the time to me, my brother, and my dad.” 

“Ugh! But you weren’t there ! When he caught me, it was like– a thing – a connection! He said ‘next time’ because he wanted there to be a next time!” 

“Um, I think I would know what he wanted. Can we circle back to him being my brother? Your little ‘thing’ shouldn’t even be happening in the first place. Isn’t that bro code or something?”

Nick shouted out, “Yeah! It’s like that song– ‘Best Friend’s Brother’!”

Clay ignored him, “I met Techno before I met you, Wilbur. I’m pretty sure that’s like, some kind of loophole. Also, screw bro code because your brother is hot !” 

Wilbur couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of him as he yelled, “EW! Oh my God, never say anything like that ever again you loser !” 

The blonde opened his mouth to retort but stopped, hearing George giggling softly. 

“Oh my God, you two,” he said, his face noticeably red from keeping his laughter down. “I saw everything happen, and I think there may be some truth to what Clay is saying. It’s silly, but don’t worry Wilbur, he’ll definitely make a fool out of himself sooner or later.” 

Clay gasped. “Hey! I resent that! You know, he gave me his number! So you both can just go right to hell!” 

“He what ?!” Nick exclaimed, “Is that what you were gonna tell us?!”

“Yep!” his smile radiated with pride. 

Wilbur’s eyes widened and he pulled out his phone, rushing to send a text to his brother, “No fucking way...” 

“Hey! Wilbur, he gave it to me fair and square– don’t try to sway him in the opposite direction!” he reached out to try and nab Wilbur’s phone, causing him to lurch back, one of his long arms accidentally tipping over a water bottle on the table. 

All four of them jerked away to avoid the spill, a thick cloud of panic lingering in the air above them. George’s gaze lingered on the puddle on the floor before he looked up at his friends, noticing how even Wilbur’s eyes were clouded with fear. Confused, he looked over at Nick, who seemed to nod at the taller boy inconspicuously.

‘...Nick?’

Wilbur cleared his throat, “Um… sorry… Let me– let me go get napkins,” he stood up apprehensively, walking off to where the utensils were dispensed. 

George let out a deep sigh, “Holy shit...” 

Clay began once Wilbur was out of earshot, his voice hushed, “Nick, did you tell him about how we can’t touch water?!” 

“What! No!” he shook his head. “I told you he wouldn’t do anything to spill my secret! Plus, he doesn’t even know about you two!”

“Then why was there an open water bottle on the table, hm? Why did it just conveniently spill?”  Clay said, tapping his foot anxiously.

“Because I was the one drinking it! Water spills all the time, guys!” Nick huffed, crossing his arms. 

“I don’t know, it seemed so– like, staged,” He said, looking back at George.

Brown eyes met green, “Okay, but then why did Wilbur jump out of the way too?” 

Clay paused, contemplating, “You’re right… does that mean...”

“Nick, is there something you’re not telling us? Are you lying about something?” George asked, turning to glare at the teen in question.

“No! I didn’t lie ,” he quickly looked away. 

Clay gaped at him, “You did! You so did!”

The other covered his face with his hands and groaned, “Nick, what the hell?!” 

“I didn’t, George!” 

“Whatever— well, maybe he’s–” he caught himself, seeing Wilbur approaching them in his peripheral. 

“Here!” Wilbur said, holding a handful of napkins out to George, before standing back.

‘Why does he seem so nervous…?’

George laid the napkins down just above the water, making sure to step on them to avoid getting wet. But as he wiped up the spill, he could feel Wilbur looking at him. It seemed he had a question on his mind, but the tension in the air was so heavy that the only thing George could do was look right back. 

He could see some remnants of panic on the other’s face, but Wilbur didn’t seem as freaked out as Clay or himself. He also kept catching the taller boy sneaking glances at Nick, almost like they were in on some secret.

“Um… sorry,” Wilbur finally choked out. 

“It’s fine,” George said gently, “it happens to everyone.”

“Still,” he shrugged, averting eye contact.

“It’s really alright,” he stepped off the napkins and towards Wilbur, giving him a smile to show he wasn’t upset. The other smiled back, still avoiding his gaze.

Clay spoke up, clearly desperate to move on from this, “Okay– so, why don’t we just leave and let this dry...” he said. “Lunch is almost over, anyways. Plus, I need to swing by my locker– I forgot my phone charger...”

Nick sighed, “Sure, man,” he said, grabbing his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. 

The other two nodded, grabbing their stuff as well and following Clay to his locker. George lagged behind with a furrowed brow, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

For the rest of the day, the water spill debacle replayed itself over and over in George’s head. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Wilbur jumped back, and the way he kept looking at Nick– almost as if for reassurance. 

‘They’re definitely hiding something— but what does Wilbur have to hide from me?

‘Have him and Nick just connected in a way we haven’t...? 

‘Ugh, but why Nick?

‘No– what is wrong with me? Nick is great. Nick is my friend…

‘Nick is…

‘Nick is a total fucking liar!’

He balled up his fists, marching to his last class of the day. As luck would have it, it was one he shared with Nick– and all of a sudden, George was not looking forward to seeing him. 

He shook his head, ‘It’s just an hour or so. You can do this.’  

Wearing a determined look, he walked into science class, sitting down next to his friend.

“Hello Nick,” He said dryly.

Nick waved lazily, “Hey, Gogy. Uh– do you know what we’re doing in class today?” 

He twitched, ‘Just keep it classy, George.’

With a sigh, he said, “Did you check your email? Ms. Loft should have sent the schedule for the week.”

Nick rested his forehead on the table dramatically, “But Gogggyyyyy I don’t waaannnnaaaaaa…..” 

“Um...” 

“Hey,” he said, feigning seriousness, “I love you, alright?” a chortle slipped out of his mouth.

George rolled his eyes, clearly unamused, “Alright, Nick. Love you too.” 

“Yeah you do,” he patted the other’s shoulder. “Now, what are we doing in class?”

“I told you, check your email.”

“George! I already said! I don’t w—”

“I don’t care , Nick,” he snapped, “stop being ridiculous.”

“...Jesus,” he exhaled slowly, turning away. 

‘Dammit. I’m being crazy— why am I so mad? He’s lied to me before and he’s kept things from me, too– why is this different?’

An awkward silence fell over the two, but they didn’t have to marinate in it long before the teacher walked into class.

Ms. Loft whistled to catch everyone’s attention before greeting them. “Bonjour! Ladies– gentlemen– everyone in between– how are we doing today?” off their mumbled responses, she continued, “Oh em gee! You guys! Why so low energy today? We in our feels?” she quipped, pulling her glasses down slightly to eye everyone in the room. “Ugh, same though! That’s why I’ve moved the lab to tomorrow! Today you’ll just be doing a worksheet to prepare for it. Trés bonsoir, yeah? Well– no need to thank me!”

Nick leaned over and whispered, “There was supposed to be a lab today?”

‘Be nice...’

George huffed, “Jesus Christ, Nick. Maybe if you read the email ...”

He nearly clasped his hand over his mouth. ‘Fucking hell.’

Nick scoffed, annoyed, “Dude, can you get over yourself with this email bullshit? Why are you so pissed all of a sudden?”

Ms. Loft began passing out the worksheets, barring George from responding, “ And since I am the coolest teacher ever, you guys are free to sync up and work in pairs!” she said, sing-songy. 

When George received his worksheet he looked over to Nick, who was just staring at his own, scratching at the scruff on his face. He couldn’t help but feel bad; maybe Nick had a reason for being so secretive? 

‘What am I even doing? I DO need to get over myself...’

George hung his head, laughing quietly to himself about the absurdity of his actions. Then, he turned towards his friend, poking him to get his attention.

“Nick– I’m sorry,” He said, kicking his feet.

“Oh, you are? For what?” 

“...For being such a wretched asshole,” a smile began to form on his face.

“There ya go,” Nick chuckled. “It’s fine, Gogy. You’re all good.”

George nodded, “I’m just sort of—”

“Sort of pissed that I know something about Wilbur that you don’t?”

His eyes widened, “Uh, yeah, exactly…”

“Don’t look so surprised, pal. We’re best friends– I can tell when you’re jealous.”

His face went red, “I’m not jealous!!” 

“Right…” Nick snickered. “Just don’t worry about it. It has nothing to do with you,” he gave the other teen a kind smile before gesturing back to his worksheet. “Anyways, I don’t get any of this… do you wanna sync up?”

“Stop!” he burst out laughing, “Why did she even say that?” 

“Right? When I heard that I was like, ‘Jesus, pass the dramamine’.”

George laughed harder, causing the other teen to do the same. With the tension between them somewhat lifted, they started going through the worksheet together, alternatingly chiming in on different sections that they knew.

After a while, George spoke up, interrupting their work flow, “Hey, Nick?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Is the secret… that Wilbur’s a mermaid?”

“George, just drop it,” Nick replied, “even if he was, I wouldn’t tell you. Why are you so sure about this anyways?”

“Well… because you said he knows about you, right? Because he saw you swimming?” he tilted his head.

“Yeah?”

“Well, you never said anything about him swimming , ” George paused, “just that he was freaked out...”

“Well, duh, it’s not everyday–”

“It would make sense, right? I’m willing to wager that that’s why Wilbur jumped at the water today...”

“Then why don’t you just ask him yourself?” Nick said, irritation peppering his words. “Sorry– it’s just– I told you, if he is, then I wouldn’t tell you. It’d be a total breach of privacy.”

“Oh my God, you’re right,” his eyes shot open, “I should just ask him!”

Nick blinked slowly. “Dude, why do you need to know so bad, anyways?”

“Because,” He continued, his voice hushed, “if there’s someone else like us , I want them to know they aren’t alone. Especially someone like Wilbur, who–”

“Who you’re so hopelessly in love with that you’d turn on your best friend and start being a complete shithead to him in science class?

“Shut up!” George flipped him off, “You keep making comments about me being smitten with Wilbur, meanwhile Clay is actually in love with Techno!”

“We give Clay shit for that, too. It’s just your turn in the hot seat,” Nick said, turning back to his paper.

“You’re so annoying,” he sighed, “anyways, I think I’ll just ask him.”

“What makes you think he’d even tell you?”

“True… there’s no way he would,” he put his finger to his chin in thought, “unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless, I tell him !” George grinned, “Then, he’ll tell me , and we can all be mermaids together!”

“Jesus, why don’t you say that louder, it’s not like the whole class can hear you,” Nick snarked, looking around to see if anyone was eavesdropping. “Clay’s airheadedness must be rubbing off on you...”

“Oh please, nobody’s listening, Nick. It’s high school– nobody cares about anyone except themselves,” He huffed. “And I’m telling Clay you said that.”

“I’m so scared. Having the fright of my life, actually.” 

George rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone, his eyes locking onto it contemplatively.

‘ I know what I must do!’  

Today 3:07 PM

Hello! >

I want to talk to you about something… >

Can we meet tomorrow after school? >

Wilbur  (AP Lit)

< o

< um ya

< is it bad

No! Hehe >

I just have something to tell you... :^) >

Chapter Text

As Wilbur stood outside the gates, waiting for George, he reread the texts from the day before over and over again until the words on the screen looked like gibberish. He let out a long sigh and closed his phone. He prayed that whatever George wanted to talk about was quick– if he made Techno wait any longer than twenty minutes, he’d have to walk home. Picking at his fingernails, he scanned the crowd for the umpteenth time, relieved to hear a British voice call out to him.

“Wilbur!” George waved at him, approaching with a bright smile. “Sorry to make you wait– I had to finish up my lab in science.” He tilted his head. “Did you have to do that today as well?” 

Wilbur winced, glancing down at his bleeding fingernail. “Uh, yeah, but I just kind of watched my lab partner do it.” 

The shorter boy laughed. “I kind of made Nick do it, too. He understands it a hundred times more than I do” –he touched his finger to his chin– “though, I suppose a hundred times zero is still zero…”

Wilbur forced out a laugh. ‘His messages sounded so serious– why is he so cheerful?’

“What did– what did you want to tell me?” he asked.

“Oh, right! Well– it’s a secret, so nobody else can hear.” He grabbed the other’s wrist and pulled him behind a wall, giving them some semblance of privacy. Wilbur felt his ears go warm, eyes lingering on the contact.

‘His hands are so cold…’

“Okay, are you ready?” George said, his deep brown eyes twinkling. 

“Uhm, yeah, I suppose.”

“I’m” –he paused for the space of a heartbeat– “a mermaid.” 

“What?” Wilbur stepped back, feeling his body go cold. “Is this some kind of joke?”

George’s face fell. “This isn’t a joke, Wilbur. I’m serious,” he said, closing the distance between them.

Wilbur took another step away. “No, Nick set you up to this.” He scoffed, turning to leave.

“Wilbur!” He grabbed the other’s hand, lightly tugging on it. “Nick didn’t tell me anything, I promise.”

Whipping back around, he yanked his hand from George’s grasp. “Look, I get it, I’m an easy target for you guys, but this isn’t fucking funny,” he said. 

“No! I wouldn’t lie like that, Wilbur.” He frowned. 

“Yes, you would! Just yesterday you lied to mess with Sam—”

“–That was just to get out of trouble! I wasn’t trying to mess with him, and even if I was, I would never mess with you like that!”

A dry laugh escaped his mouth. “How touching, George. How do I know you’re not lying now?”

“Because we all jumped from the water yesterday!!” he exclaimed, rendering Wilbur speechless. 

He stared down at him. Logically, it did make sense, but he refused to be convinced. There was no way he wasn’t being put on.

“That doesn’t really follow,” Wilbur grumbled, “you could have just been avoiding getting wet. Nobody wants to be soaked…”

“I am telling the truth, Wilbur,” he insisted. 

“Okay, so if I dumped water on you right now, you’d just– what– grow a tail?” He crossed his arms.

“Yes! I have the same rules as you!”

Wilbur scoffed. “What? No! I don’t have rules, George. I’m normal!”

“We all jumped away from the water, though,” he said, a smirk beginning to form on his face, “and if you were normal, you wouldn’t even know about the touching water rule...”  

“Oh.”

‘Shit.’

George stepped forward, his smile growing. “Oh,” he said, “so…”

“So… should I say I’m a mermaid too now?”

“If you want…” he giggled.

“Well, I’m a mermaid,” Wilbur confirmed, a smile tugging at his lips, “and so are you, and Nick, and I’m hoping Clay?”

The other nodded. “Yes– and again, Nick didn’t tell me anything. I could just tell since you were both hiding whatever happened at the beach...” 

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I’m sorry for exploding at you earlier— I’m just stressed.” 

George hummed. “I get it,” he paused, pondering his next words. “Um… your brother mentioned something about a fight yesterday, is that what’s stressing you..?”

Wilbur grimaced, looking away from the other boy. “Uhm… yeah. I said some stuff to my dad and I guess I made him upset. We haven’t really spoken about it, and he told me whenever I’m ready to talk about it, he’d be too, but I don’t know...” He shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t mean to dump this all on you.”

“No, it’s alright!” he said, stepping forwards and grabbing the other boy’s hand. 

“I just” –he swallowed hard– “I don’t know! I think he’s just saying that because I made some valid points– but I don’t want to talk to him. I’ll just get fake apologies and stupid, temporary solutions.” 

George hummed, listening. “Well, what did you say?”

Wilbur felt his face flush. “Uhm. Well– I– okay maybe I didn’t have valid points, but I’m allowed to be upset about him not caring enough to acknowledge me.” 

Memories of days where he was nothing more than a ghost in the house flooded his mind. There was the time his father decided that Techno’s grades were more important than anybody else’s— and the time he decided Wilbur’s music was less interesting than Tommy’s video game— everything was about them.

Going home always felt like navigating through a minefield, and it was worse when either of them was angry– because they’d just go to Wilbur to pick a fight. God forbid he fight back, though, because how dare he feels attacked or singled out. This move really showed Phil’s true colors; it proved how little his father actually cared about him and his feelings.

George shrugged. “Well, if he’s letting you decide when you talk, then it sounds– to me– like he cares a little bit,” he said, “enough to wait for you to be ready, at least.” 

“I… guess.” Wilbur shifted his weight. “I don’t know. How would I even bring it up? What do I even say? ‘I feel like you’re abandoning me in favor of my brothers’? That feels so… dramatic.”

“Well, maybe not exactly like that, but if that’s how you’re feeling...” He giggled softly.

“I just don’t want him to cry again.” He huffed. “I want him to see my point of view for once, instead of only worrying about how things affect him and my brothers...”

George’s grip on Wilbur’s hand tightened. “If he is as caring as he sounds, I’m sure he’ll listen to you. He did say ‘whenever you're ready'...” 

He nodded his head, agreeing. George was right. His father had never been purposely neglectful with him, and he had valid reasons to be upset. So, if Wilbur expressed his feelings in a way that wasn’t so aggressive, his dad might actually begin to listen to him. 

But then again, the conversation would not be an easy one to have after Wilbur accused Phil of projecting his dead wife onto him. He made a note to apologize for that, knowing that it would ease some of the tension between them.

“You’re right. I think I’ll talk to him tomorrow, maybe,” Wilbur concluded.

“Good!” George smiled up at him, stepping back and nodding towards the gate. “Well, I should go now– Clay’s probably looking for me.” He walked out, dragging the taller boy by his hand.

“Do you need a ride? I’m sure he won’t mind driving you. I mean, we’ve all got to stick together now!” He giggled.

He shook his head, laughing softly. “No. Thank you for the offer, though. Techno will have a cow if I make him wait any longer.”

The shorter boy laughed in response, slowing down to walk shoulder to shoulder the other. 

“There you are!” Techno rolled his eyes, jingling his keys.

Behind him, Tommy was sending rapid-fire messages– to Tubbo, Wilbur assumed. The youngest looked up from his screen, his eyes widening as soon as he saw his brother walking towards him. Quickly, he shuffled closer to Techno, burying himself in his phone again. Wilbur kicked himself mentally for how wary Tommy was around him now, but he knew it was no one’s fault but his own. 

“Wilbur! Say bye so we can go!” the oldest called out.

He nodded, turning back to his friend. “Thank you for listening to me,” he said, “and... thanks for telling me, as well.” 

George beamed. “Of course. Anytime.” He looked at the ground, hesitating before suddenly leaning forwards to wrap his arms around Wilbur.

The taller boy froze for a second before hugging back, not even trying to hide the massive grin that spread across his face. Then, after a few seconds, he felt the other’s hand creep up to his shoulders, pulling him down to whisper something.

“Let me know when you want to go swimming. We’ve got to show you the Moon Pool.” 

Wilbur raised his eyebrow in a silent question but nodded his head. “Uhm, yeah– of course.” He stepped back, watching as George headed off towards Clay’s car. 

“Well, isn’t that just?” Techno remarked, turning away to walk to his own car. Tommy jogged to catch up with him and Wilbur followed behind, his happiness receding at the way the youngest looked back at him.

When they got in the car, Tommy started going on about something that Techno hardly understood, and Wilbur couldn’t help the small twinge of jealousy he felt. He knew if he never pushed him away, he would be the one Tommy was prattling off to.

Once the brothers got home, they all parted ways. Techno went directly up to his room, Tommy went to the living room to FaceTime Tubbo, and Wilbur went to the kitchen to find a snack.

He almost turned around when he saw his father looking over bills at the counter. Phil looked up at him, smiling softly. Wilbur wanted to spew apologies– he wanted his dad to reassure him, he wanted things to be okay, but it wasn’t going to be that simple.

He stood his ground and began rummaging through the pantry, able to feel Phil’s eyes on him. Save for Tommy and Tubbo’s voices audible from the living room, the quiet was overbearing, and Wilbur just prayed that Phil would say something– anything– to break the silence.

His father cleared his throat. “Wil?” he said, his voice quiet. 

“Yeah?” he answered, picking at the edge of his sweater. 

“How was school?” 

Wilbur never thought he’d be so relieved to hear surface-level small talk. “Uh, good,” he said, turning back to the shelves of food. “I– uh– I made a few friends.” 

“That’s good, I’m happy for you. What are they like?” His father’s voice did sound happy, though Wilbur couldn’t understand why. It’s not like Phil had cared before. 

‘No, no, he cares. Stop thinking like that.’ Wilbur scrunched his nose up, shaking his head to get rid of those feelings. It was futile, though, seeing as they situated themselves deep in his heart and throat.

“They’re cool...” He paused, grabbing a few granola bars and scanning through the labels. “Funny, too... I like them.”

“I’m glad.” Phil sighed. “Now, I’d hate to keep bringing this up, I just want you to know that I’m here for you, and I love you. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.” 

Wilbur heard careful footsteps towards him and turned around, his lips pressed in a thin line. “Right. I’m just...not ready. Not yet. I want to be sure of what I’m going to say,” he said, walking past his dad and towards the stairs.

“That’s fine, Wil.” He nodded. “Oh– if you’re going upstairs, do you mind bringing your brother his mail? A few universities are already advertising to him,” Phil said, grabbing a few pamphlets and envelopes and holding them out to Wilbur. 

The teen fought back a groan and agreed, grabbing the small pile and heading up the stairs to Techno’s room. 

He knocked with his free hand, his eyes scanning the first pamphlet on the pile. It looked like some university out west. Wilbur felt a small pang in his heart; this year would probably be Techno’s last living under the same roof as everyone. 

“Tommy, I said I’ll play with you later!” Techno’s voice called out. 

“It’s Wil!” he called back, using his thumb to peek at the next pamphlet. It was a Florida state– maybe Techno would end up staying close. Wilbur bit his lip as he read about the on-campus life. 

“Oh shit, one second!” Shuffling was heard– along with a few thumps, before the door swung open. “Get in here,” he said, staring the brunette dead in the eyes. 

Wilbur had barely any time to react before Techno pulled him into the room, closing the door behind them. Looking at the state of his brother, it was clear something was freaking him out; he had changed into sweats and a hoodie, and a pencil was keeping his hair in a loose bun.  

‘He hates casual dress… what’s going on?’

“Uhm, here,” Wilbur said, handing him the mail. Techno merely glanced at the top pamphlet before he dropped the pile onto his desk and sat down.

He groaned. “I don’t care about college right now,” he said, swiveling around in his chair. “That is so not number one on my list— my only competition for valedictorian is that sewer-priestess, Gina Duke, and calling her ‘competition’ is me being generous.”

Wilbur laughed. “Right,” he said, crossing over to Techno’s bed, “so what am I here for? Quality sibling time?” He sat down.

“No, bitch!” he exclaimed, throwing a crumpled-up essay draft at the other. “You know your silly little friend?” 

Wilbur quickly shielded himself with one of his brother’s pillows. “Better not let Phil hear you say that,” he joked.

“Cease! I wasn’t saying it in a bitch-get-back-in-the-kitchen-way, I was saying in like, the gay way!”

“Right,” he snickered, “so, what about Clay?”

“Well... he texted me– don’t make that face– and asked to meet up for boba, or something. Whatever the gays drink out here.” 

“And?”

“And I said yes, duh. I have eyes, I won’t pass up on a hot guy if he’s into me. Love Cher Horowitz the most, but I’m not clueless,” said Techno. “Plus, he said he’d pick me up, and the petrol prices here are absolutely killing me— or should I start saying gas again?” He shook his head. “Whatever.”

Wilbur groaned, falling back onto the bed. “This is so weird...”

“I don’t care? Stop being a total virg about this.”

“Virg? What does that even mean?” he propped himself up onto his elbows, laughing.

“Short for virgin, keep up.” Techno snapped his fingers. 

The brunette shook his head and lied back down, laughing harder. “Still, please don’t like– I don’t know– do anything around me,” he said, staring at the ceiling.

“Um, I don’t even know if I like him yet. Don’t make this weirder than it is.” He rolled his eyes and turned his chair so it faced the closet. “Anyways, I need you here because” –he threw his hands up– “what the hell do I even wear? This kind of shit was so easy in Brighton, everything was so formal.” He sighed. 

Wilbur sat up, his eyes wide. He hadn’t heard anyone in his family so much as mention Brighton since they moved. “What?” he asked, thinking he may have misheard.

Techno ignored him, still caught up in his rant. “Things are so backwards here, Wilbur. Did you know I saw a couple get married in flip flops and board shorts on the pier the other day? Flip flops. And board shorts. On the pier. They probably thought they were looking camp right in the eye– but it was gauche, is what it was.” 

“No– what, no go back. You miss Brighton?”

His brother turned to him, cocking an eyebrow. “I grew up there too, Wil, of course I miss it. The humidity fucks with my hair dye here, it’s cray.” He shook his head. “But you’re the only one out of all of us that’s been so grief jerky. Change is good, and also– nobody said you have to live in Florida forever.”

Wilbur stopped to think. The way Techno put it, perhaps his feelings about moving were a little silly in hindsight. He was treating it like the end of the world, but who was to say he couldn’t just move back once he was finished with high school?

“Would you come with me?” Wilbur asked, causing his brother to freeze. “You know, if I moved back to England?”

“Um, what?” 

“For uni,” he said, his eyes locking onto the pile of pamphlets on his brother’s desk, “some of those schools are really far away and–”

“–And I’ll make my choice when I’m ready. How did this circle back to college?” Techno let out a dry laugh. “I told you, I’m not worried about that stuff yet. Until Gina Duke steps her game up, I have no reason to be.” 

“Well, but then after university you’ll move out and” –he ran a hand through his hair– “I don’t know…”

“I quite literally chose you and Dad– I don’t think I’m just gonna pack up and move away from you guys.” He rolled his eyes. “You know that’s not something I can do.”

Wilbur nodded. “I know,” he mumbled, looking down at the sheets. 

He heard his older brother start towards him, feeling the bed dip beneath his weight. “Hun, I’m not going anywhere. Neither is Tommy” –he looked at the other through his eyebrows— “and neither is Dad...”

The younger teen groaned. “Ugh don’t remind me,” he said. “I don’t even know how to start the conversation with him.” 

“Like that,” Techno said, “he’s your dad too. If you don’t know what to say then just be honest about it. No use pretending you know when you don’t.” He shrugged. 

“I guess…” Wilbur hummed in thought, then shook his head. “But I don’t really want to get into this right now– just– show me what you’re thinking of wearing on your date with Clay.”

“Okay…” He pushed himself off the bed, walking to his closet. He sorted through the various colorful garments, selecting a few and laying them out on his bed. “This is gonna be, like, messy.”

Wilbur sunk into the warm water of the bath with a long sigh, letting his eyes lull shut. Today wasn’t great but it also wasn’t terrible. For once, things were beginning to look up. He had friends who understood him in a way nobody else ever could, his relationship with his dad was on the mend, and– thanks to his talk with Techno– he knew he wasn’t alone in this giant change.

Maybe it was a little weird that his brother and his friend were going out, but even then, it was practically harmless. Wilbur wouldn’t even have to give Clay a shovel talk, since, if anything did happen between them, he knew Techno could handle it himself.

He reopened his eyes when he heard a ping interrupt his music, and pushed himself up to check his phone. He was expecting a text from George– or maybe even the group chat Nick made with all four of them. 

The last thing he expected, however, was a text from someone he hadn’t thought about since his first day of school. 

Today 7:55 PM

Niki :PinkHeart: :Cat:

< Stop ignoring me.

<  U>.<U

< I didn’t mean the period!!!! (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞ 

omg sorry. >

i didn’t mean to ignore you >

i've just been busy  >

< Busy with your new friends? ●︿●

< You’ve got something to hide don’t you?

< Don’t worry, |ω・） I’ll find out your secret soon enough! (-‿◦)

Wilbur dropped his phone, eyes blown wide. 

What.

Chapter Text

Given that Wilbur and Dad were barely speaking to each other and Tommy was avoiding their brother like the plague– the weekend gave a nice reprieve from the chaos of the past few days. Finally, Techno was able to get out of the house and talk to someone normal. 

Although, maybe normal wasn’t the right word… Clay was weird. 

On one hand, he was jumpy and reminded Techno of a purse chihuahua; he was constantly trying to kiss up to him or make him smile, but anyone who had ever met Techno would know he wasn't one to grin easily. It took almost two full years for him to comfortably laugh around his own father– so then what made this junior boy think he was a special case?

But on the other hand, Clay was smooth and endearing; the incident before P.E. left a couple questions to be answered, but Techno would be lying if he said he didn’t find his clumsy disposition to be the slightest bit charming. Maybe it was peculiar that Clay was his brother’s friend, but Techno only agreed to one date. Not even to a fancy place– just a trendy juice bar. 

He figured he only had things to gain from it, since the rumors that were spread about the blonde indicated he’d get over it within a week if Techno ended up changing his mind. But– if it did end up working out– what came next would be unclear. 

Techno had never gotten more than a few months out of any of the boys back in Brighton. Something always had to go wrong with the relationship– whether it be that the boy refused to tell his parents about them, or that the boy himself was a lost cause– it all fell through eventually. Sometimes, he even considered that the issue lied within himself, but the relationships never lasted long enough to start unpacking any of that.

He had tried to bring it up with his government-assigned therapist, but seeing as they weren’t great, and he had a hard time talking about this stuff with Phil, he mostly just kept these feelings to himself. Regardless, it was too late to back out now– Clay would be here to pick him up within the hour and he was already ready to go.

He looked over his outfit in the mirror one last time, double-checking that everything was well-balanced. He considered adding another earring to complete the look, or removing the scarf he adorned, but it paired so nicely with his blue jeans that he immediately dismissed the thought. 

Techno sighed, twisting his upper body to see how the outfit moved with him, his pink hair falling gracefully upon the shoulder pads of the blazer he layered over a black turtleneck. Perhaps he was dressed too formally for a simple boba date, but there was no way he was going to tone himself down to appease some random dude.

He shook out his hands, trying to rid his system of any self-doubt. He reminded himself that– no matter what he wore– Clay would literally be tripping over himself. Any guy, for that matter, would think he was hot regardless of the circumstance…

But that was usually all they thought of him.

Needing to get out of his head, he went down to the living room. He’d probably be able to start a new book while he waited, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to focus on anything until Clay arrived– he felt stuck.

He slumped down onto the couch, staring off into nothing until a sudden voice snapped him back to reality.

“Why are you so dressed up?” Tommy said, staring intently while he waited for an answer.

Techno blinked, trying to process the question. “What?” 

He repeated himself, over-enunciating, “Why. Are. You. So. Dressed. Up.” 

“Mind. Your. Own. Business?” 

Tommy groaned and threw himself onto the couch next to the other. “I can’t!”

Techno cocked an eyebrow. “You can’t mind your own business?”

He shook his head, throwing an arm over his eyes dramatically. “Shut up! I hope you die!” He sat up and placed a soft hand on his brother’s forearm. “No I don’t– I’m sorry, you’ll live forever.”

“I’m sure,” he replied, amused at how Tommy inherited his dramatics. 

“No you aren’t, liar. ” The boy stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before abruptly snapping his attention back to his brother. “Hey– my theatre class is horrible.” 

Techno couldn’t help but huff out a laugh. “Oh, really? Is that what you came here to tell me?”

“No. I came here to ask why you’re so dressed up. But since you didn’t answer me, I’m changing the subject.” He blinked. “My theatre class is horrible.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“I love theatre, Technoblade.”

“We all do, Theseus.” He chuckled.

“So then you understand why my life is horrible” –he waved his hands around wildly– “there’s this really annoying kid in my class who keeps referencing stuff I’ve never fucking heard of and– and– I don’t care!” He began to kick his feet as well. “I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care!!!”

“That’s so cray.” 

Tommy crossed his arms. “I come down here to share with you my struggles ‘cause Wil’s being a whore– I mean, dumbass– and I get brushed off? This is not what I agreed to when I signed my adoption papers.” He squashed himself into the cushions, attempting to look grumpy. 

“I was being serious, Tommy.” Techno pulled out his phone, checking for any texts. He sighed. Still nothing. “Hennyways, have you talked to him about it?” 

He shook his head. “He’s… scary,” he said, lowering his voice, “he’s changed since we moved here...” 

“Yah. He def took it harder than the rest of us.” He turned towards the younger and lowered his voice as well. “It’s not an excuse for him to be such a woven belt to you, but that’s why he’s been so… crunchy. The best thing to do is probably ignore him for now, until his teen-angst bullshit hikes up its skirt and dissolves into the blackness from whence it came.” 

Tommy nodded slowly, agreeing but not happy. After all, Wilbur was the first one he opened up to when they started fostering him, and now that their brother was icing him out, it’s no wonder that the youngest felt betrayed. 

Techno nudged him softly. “Hey, he still loves you,” he said, “just give it some time. Then, after he’s over himself, you can tell him all about the lame duck from your theatre class.” 

The boy nodded again, looking more at ease now.

Lately, Techno felt like he was single-handedly keeping his family together. Trying to get Wilbur to open up to their dad was already hard enough– but now that Tommy was going through his own turmoil, it felt like Clay was giving him a break rather than taking him out.

A knock on the door broke the brothers’ peaceful silence, and Tommy glanced at Techno, who shrugged in response, getting up to answer it. Looking through the peephole, he tried to make out the figure on the other end of the door, immediately recognizing it’s bright green eyes and dumb smile.

Techno swung the door open. “Why are you here? Why didn’t you just text me like a normal person?” 

Clay beamed. “Hi!” 

Embarrassment flooded the room. Techno knew Tommy was staring at the two of them, and the only thing he could do was brace himself for whatever loud remark he was about to make. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Tommy said, sure as day, advancing over to his brother’s side to stare up at the football player.

“I’m Clay! And I’m assuming you’re the ‘other brother’ Wilbur mentioned?” He smiled down at him, causing Techno to groan internally.

“...Wilbur? Should I go get him?”

“Do not.” Techno grabbed Tommy’s arm to stop him. 

“Oh, thanks but I’m here for Techno actually!” Clay pulled an arm from behind his back that Techno didn’t even notice was there. “Ready when you are!” he said, holding out an extravagant bouquet.

Tommy looked at the flowers, then at his older brother, then at Clay.

“Oh, that’s messy,” he said, contorting his face into a cringe.

Techno didn’t know if he wanted to kill Tommy, Clay, or himself at that moment.

“Tommy, don’t you dare say a word of this to Dad.” 

“Okay, fuck!” He yanked his arm from his brother’s grip. “I won’t tell Dad that you’re being messy with Wil’s friend...” 

“Cease! And stop saying ‘messy’!” Techno snapped, whacking the other on the arm.

Tommy faked being hurt, but turned and disappeared up the stairs. 

“Were the flowers too much?” Clay asked, blinking dumbly. 

“What do you think?” He exited his house, dragging the blonde along to the car.

“I think” –he scratched the back of his head– “you look really nice tonight…” he said back, grinning widely.

“...Shut up and unlock the car.”

They stood outside the boba shop, staring at the caution-tape that surrounded it as if it was staring back. A note plastered to the door read, ‘CLOSED INDEFINITELY FOR RECONSTRUCTION’ and Techno let out a long sigh, turning towards a pensive-looking Clay.

“Well… now what?” he asked.

The blonde looked down at the ground, tapping his foot. Techno was almost surprised at how lost in thought he was, seeing as Clay didn’t seem to think much at all.

“What if…” –he exhaled slowly– “we go grab dinner instead?” he suggested. “Okay– I know this one place– it’s the best! You’ll love it!” 

“Um... Whatever, I guess.” He shrugged, following behind the other.

Although the drive was short, Techno immediately started to recognize the stark change from strip malls and small diners to grander and more expensive restaurants— he even saw valet parking at one of the places they passed by.

“Clay, where exactly are you taking me?” 

“You’ll see!” He took a turn and slowed down, pulling into a parking spot along the curb.

When Techno caught sight of the building’s white brick walls, he could already tell that he wasn’t being taken to an alternative to boba– but rather a massive upgrade.

“Clay, turn this car around. I’m not eating there.” He narrowed his eyes at the other when he put the car in park.

“What? No, you’ll love it, I promise!” 

“I’m not gonna love it when I have to empty my bank account to afford it,” he said, refusing to budge. 

“What?” He unbuckled his seatbelt. “No, I’ll pay! I thought we established that...” 

“We so did not.” Techno frowned. “Just take me to a hole in a wall or some shit.” 

“You deserve more than a hole in the wall! Besides, I asked you out. Why wouldn’t I pay?” He got out of the car and walked around to Techno’s side, opening the door for him with a smile. 

He did not smile back, but he did take off his seatbelt and begrudgingly follow Clay.

What the restaurant lacked in size, it certainly made up for in luxury, which immediately put Techno on edge. Everything in this establishment probably cost more than his whole house. 

Clay walked right up to the host and greeted them like an old friend– and they probably were if he could afford to dine here, Techno mused.

He couldn’t feel more out of place; his skin crawled with imaginary eyes on him, as if they could look past him and see how under-prepared he was for this dining expierence. He felt all the sound around him begin to muffle as he drifted behind Clay, the host leading them to their table.  

He snapped out of it the moment they sat down, though– as they were seated outside, and the fresh air gave him clarity.

“Why did you bring me here?” Techno asked, his eyes locking onto the other’s.

Clay chuckled. “Because I thought you’d like it, duh.” 

“Right,” he responded slowly, “you’re not trying to make fun of me, are you?”

“What! No!” He looked around, panicked. “I would never! I just figured this was the least I could do since the boba place was closed!”

Techno blinked. “Oh.” He glanced down at the menu placed in front of him. “Well, maybe next time, you should check beforehand to see if it’s even open.”

“...Next time?” 

“Watch it.”

After their food arrived, Techno caught himself engaging in an actual conversation with Clay. Even with his awkward fumbling, the blonde still managed to be quite winsome. They didn’t talk about anything personal, but the few things Techno had observed filed themselves away for later. 

For example; Clay was secretive. Not in an overt way– but he noticed that whenever they talked about going to the beach, the younger teen became tight-lipped and made strange efforts to move the conversation along. Of course Techno let it happen, but he noted the apprehension. He just hoped that the other’s secretiveness didn’t apply to him as well; he would not be some guy’s closet case.

Techno picked at his steak, trying to guess how much it was. He wanted a salad originally to keep the cost low, but Clay ordered for him before he got the chance. It was annoying, but he appreciated the blonde’s eagerness to treat him.

He looked up when a waitress made her way over to them, expecting the usual check-ins that they were supposed to do. But, what he wasn’t expecting was for the waitress to recognize his date. 

She came right up to the table. “Oh, hey Clay! Who’s the new flavor of the month?” She smiled at him, her face dropping when she saw Techno. “What?! Techno?”

“Uh, hello.” He waved awkwardly. 

Clay looked between the two rapidly. “Whoa! Do you guys know each other?” 

“She’s in my geography course,” he explained, feeling his ears warm. He really didn’t want his classmate to see them on a date– what if Clay was ashamed of him?

“Oh! That’s so fun! Well, Cara and I have known each other for years!”

Techno wanted nothing more than to leave and never return. 

“Yeah! He’s like my little brother,” she said, reaching over and ruffling Clay’s hair. 

“Hey!” He swatted her hands away, leaning back to avoid any further tousling. “Don’t mess up my hair– I’m on a date!”

Techno stilled— Clay admitted it was a date so openly. No hesitation was present in his voice, not even a hint of shame. 

“Oh, that’s so sweet! I’ll make sure to give you guys the couples discount.” Cara winked and Techno observed the red that bloomed across his date’s face. 

“Thanks, Cara,” he mumbled, shooting Techno an apologetic smile.

The waitress smiled towards him as well, then headed off towards the kitchen.

“Sorry.” Clay was still red, but now his focus was back on the other. “She’s just– I mean, you know how siblings are.” He laughed, his foot-tapping starting up again.

Techno nodded slowly. “What did she mean by ‘new flavor’?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

The blonde’s eyes widened and he vigorously shook his head. “It’s not like that, Techno, I just… have dated a lot of people.”

“So, I’m like one of a hundred?” He scoffed. “How just.”

“N-No! That’s still not what I meant! Look—” He pinched his nose bridge, trying to find the right words. “Cara was just teasing. Yes, I’ve dated a lot of people, but I’ve only ever taken one other person here!”

“Mmm, right.” He rolled his eyes, picking at his food. “Just… drop the act already.”

Clay’s hands darted forward, grabbing onto one of Techno’s. “Hey, there’s no act, okay? You’re interesting, and cool, and smart, and you didn’t start fawning over me the second I showed interest the way everyone else does, and—”

“Okay, fuck– I don’t need a love letter.” He shoved a piece of steak into his mouth– he had to admit, it was really good. Even if they didn’t go on another date after this, at least he got a high-quality meal out of it.

“Okay…” Clay trailed off, a smile growing on his face. “But– hypothetically– if I did write you a love letter, would you read it?” 

“...Your steak’s getting cold.”

Clay refused to let Techno see the check when it came, but his loud complaining only served to make the other laugh. His initial hesitance aside, the blonde’s jokes and silly antics were funny sometimes– and occasionally, they were even amusing. He wouldn’t tell him that, though. 

As they drove back to his house, the younger teen would ramble about the various places they passed– what his opinions were, what he didn’t like, and everything in between. Techno just listened, content with watching Clay explain his city to him. It did help a little, given that he hadn’t gone anywhere except school and the local grocery store since they moved, investing himself in his studies or a really good book.

Clay parked his car at the curb by Techno’s house and turned off his headlights. He shifted towards him, smiling softly. 

“Why are you staring at me?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“You look really pretty.”

“Try again.” 

“Beautiful–” 

“–Stop.” He felt his face warm.

“...Handsome?”

Techno groaned, a minute smile appearing on his face. “Yes, I’m all of the above. Now– just– stop complimenting me.”

Clay laughed. “Sorry, I just couldn’t resist...” He kept staring, refusing to look away. 

He opted to look out the window to avoid eye contact. “I’m sure.” 

“Hey,” he said, “I had a really good time tonight.” His words were tender, dripping with honey.

“Me too.” Techno bit his lip to keep his smile from growing. “...Thanks for paying.” 

“Of course!” Clay leaned towards him slightly, resting his arm on the center console. “I’m just happy you let me. Thanks for not chopping my head off,” he joked.

He looked back at his date, huffing out a small laugh. “Right.” 

They sat in a delicate silence, Clay’s eyes eventually drifting when he began to fiddle with the radio. Soft music filtered through– something off the top forty that Techno couldn’t possibly name. 

“What kind of music do you listen to?” the blonde asked, trying to start up another conversation.

“Nothing.”

“What? No, I know you like something. You can tell me, I swear,” Clay said. “My friend– Nick– literally listens to Eminem, you can’t be worse than that.”

Techno raised an eyebrow. “Eminem? God, what’s his damage?” He was about to kick himself for letting his usual vernacular slip out, until the other teen started laughing. He continued, mildly shocked, “Fine– my music isn’t total hose trash like your friend’s, so, um– I like classical stuff. It helps me focus, and I like the melodies…” 

“Hose trash?! Techno, that’s hilarious!” He wiped a tear from his face. “Okay, personally, I haven’t listened to a lot of classical music, but it’s like basically the building blocks for everything else! So, I think it’s really cool that you like it!” he said, nodding his head. 

“I guess.” He looked down at his fingers, trying to seem distracted. “So… what about you?” 

The blonde hummed, looking down to think. “Well, I really like Surf Curse,” he said. “They’re my favorite band! I feel like they fit my vibe really well, you know?”

“I don’t.” 

“Uh right– you don’t.” He laughed nervously. “But it just does.” He nodded his head, agreeing with himself.

Techno hummed. “So, what is this? Twenty Questions?” 

“If you want!” 

“Hmmm… you can have three,” he said, looking back up at Clay. The date was almost over– he figured it wouldn’t hurt to throw him a bone.

“Really? Alright! Okay” –he shifted in his seat– “what was it like living in England?”

The older teen thought for a moment. “Well… different from Florida. It’s obvs not as warm, but there’s like, the same amount of rain–if that makes sense. Everyone is really polite there, too. It’s just everything you’ve probably heard about it.” 

An awkward pause hung in the air.

“Okay… now you ask me one!” Clay said.

“Oh my god...” He rolled his eyes. “Okay, whatever. What’s your favorite color?” he said, blurting out the first question that came to mind.

“Green!” he answered immediately, “I love the color green so much! I like more bright greens, but I love all shades of it, honestly! I try and wear something green every day, because the color just makes me so happy!”

“You just said more about the color green than I did about where I grew up,” Techno said, tracing patterns on his own hand.

He nodded and looked away. “Sorry! I’ll keep my answers short for the other questions...”

“It’s nothing to lactate over, Clay. I don’t mind.”

“Lactate over?!” He burst into laughter. “Stop! How do you come up with this stuff?!”

“...I just do, I guess,” he said, a smirk teasing at his face. “Uh, but go on with your second question.”

“Okay, okay! Just give me a second!” he said, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to quell his laughter.

Techno just looked at him– he couldn’t believe Clay found him actually funny. The only people who he felt comfortable being his true self around were his family, since the guys in Brighton always found his vocabulary ‘pretentious’ or ‘crude’. But the blonde seemed to be thoroughly amused by it...

“Okay, I think I’m good now,” Clay said, squeezing out a few residual giggles. “Now, for my second question” –he drummed lightly on his lap– “on Monday, do you wanna swing by my table at lunch and say hi to my friends? I think it’d be cool if you all knew each other…”

He hesitated before answering, the return of warmth in his face catching him by surprise. “Sure. I’ve already met George, and he seemed tolerable enough,” he managed.

“Yes! Okay, your turn!”

“Um… I don’t know what to ask.”

“Come on! You can ask me anything. Like: is my hair naturally blonde, do I have any siblings, what football team I root for…”

“I guess the sibling thing, since I couldn’t give a nun’s clit about the others."

“Pffttt…” Clay managed to stifle his laughter this time, answering between dopey chuckles. “Well, I have a younger sister! Her name is Drista— my parents wanted to be out-of-the-box with it.”

“Wow. And out-of-the-box it is.” Techno let out an amused scoff. “Kay, last question?”

“Um…” He scratched the back of his head. “What do you think about me? Like, honestly...”

What did Techno think of him? The blonde proved to have many facets throughout the evening, it was impossible to sum it up with just a single sentence. 

“I think…” He paused, eyeing him up and down. “I think you’re a mess. You’re erratic and needy, and your whole aura reeks of skeeze.” 

“What? But I–”

“–I’m not finished.” He put out a finger to shush the other. “Tonight… you proved yourself to be more than all that. You were patient, and entertaining– and I’m not easily entertained. Plus, you’re very...” He debated whether or not he should finish the sentence, weighing all of the pros and cons in his head. “Cute,” he said, opting for the bold choice.

Clay’s face instantly lit up and stars filled his eyes, the dim glow of the street lamps filtering through his spring leaves. “Y-You… really think all that?”

“Um, duh.” Techno looked away, soft pinks and vibrant reds getting comfortable on his cheeks.  “Ugh, can I just– ask you the last question already?”

“Yes, of course!”

He gulped. “...Do you wanna walk me to my door?”

They stopped at the front door, nervous tension palpable between them.

“Do you maybe… wanna do this next weekend?” Clay asked, tapping his foot. 

“Yes,” he said, surprised at how fast the words left his mouth.

The blonde visibly brightened. “Cool! Um… I hope you have a good rest of your night!” He gave the other a thumbs up. “See you at school?”

“Yah. See you at school.” 

In the space between that second and the next, Clay abruptly took the other’s hand and pressed a kiss onto the knuckles. Techno felt his face get hot, his eyes shooting open.

‘What the fuck was that..?’

He stood there in utter shock, watching his date pull back and speed-walk away. He waved at the other when he got to his car, his face a familiar, red hue. Techno could only blink and wave back,  making sure Clay’s car was all the way gone before he turned back to his door and broke into a wide grin. 

He entered his house, trying to keep the noise down just in case anyone from his family was asleep. But– when he turned around from the shoe rack– he saw Tommy, awake. Still on the couch.

He looked up from his Switch, letting out a low whistle at the sight of Techno’s grin. “Eek. Messy night?”

Techno pointed a finger at his brother, his smile instantly vanishing. “Stop saying ‘messy’!!”

Chapter Text

Monday began with Wilbur rushing out the door and forgetting half his stuff, which forced Techno to turn the car around to grab it; so he was late to school, and he had to explain everything to Phil. 

He still hadn’t spoken to his father about their fight– and the longer he waited, the worse he felt. Sunday night, he kept sending Wilbur sad looks over the dinner table, and he even woke him in the morning– most likely in an attempt to show him his love. Then there was Tommy; annoying as usual, and still avoiding him. He could feel his family being torn apart because of him, but he wasn’t even sure how to begin fixing it. Adding to the mounting pressure, was the morning’s double-back to the house– which made Techno mad at him as well. It was like he was checking boxes of all the ways to make everyone hate him.

Furthermore, on top of his familial problems, Niki was making herself a hindrance now, too. 

He scratched his chin, deep in thought. ‘What does she know? How MUCH does she know?

I have to tell the others about this before whatever it is she’s planning happens…

But I can’t talk about it with George in AP Lit– someone will overhear. Should I just text him?

No. It’ll be easier to map out a plan in person.

I’ll talk to everyone at lunch,’

In the cafeteria, Wilbur noticed that George sat alone at their table— nibbling at some crisps and scrolling through his phone. He sat next to the boy, greeting him with a soft smile. 

“Uh, hey George.”

“Hello!” His deep, brown eyes seemed to meet Wilbur’s with a greeting of their own. 

“Where are Nick and Clay?”

“Why?” He tilted his head all-too-familiarly. “Am I not enough for you?”

Wilbur chuckled as if his life depended on it. “Uhm, no! I-I just–”

“–Dummy” –he nudged the other– “why so nervous? Something on your mind?”

He gulped. “Uh, yeah. I kind of need to talk to you guys about…” –he moved his arms in a small swimming motion– “you know?”

George’s eyes widened. “Is everything alright?” 

“...I don’t know,” he said, tugging at his shirt collar with his finger to loosen the sudden, constricting force he felt.

“Alright, well, Nick and Clay should be here any minute.” Tender hands reached out and adjusted Wilbur’s collar. Just like that, his breath went from stifled to staggered. “We’ll figure it out. You’re part of a team now.” His eyes met the other’s momentarily before flitting away.

Wilbur felt his ears burn up. “Right,” he said, trying not to fixate on the gentle hands so close to his face. “Thank you...” 

George’s hands pulled away, falling plainly in his lap. “You’re welcome!” A grin stretched across his face, accompanied by the fading in of warm pinks. “Also, I like when you layer a jumper over a button-up like this… it looks nice.”

“Oh, thank you…” He crossed his arms like it would make the compliment a lie. “I never really thought much of it” –he blinked rapidly– “but, uh, you look nice too…”

“Mhm,” he said, parting dark brown hair out of his eyes. “My pajamas are just so elegant, you think?” A snicker brushed past his lips.

Wilbur chuckled as well. “Yes. You seem so absolutely royal.”

“So…” Nick said, across from them, “you done yet?”

“Nick?!” George’s face went completely red. “When did you get here?!”

“Iunno. A few seconds ago. But you two just seemed so busy I decided not to interrupt.” He scratched at the scruff on his face. “Can I eat my food now, or are you two gonna keep gr—”

“—Just stuff your mouth, Nick! Whatever gets you to shut up!”

“Kay.” He took a sip of his chocolate milk. “Didja hear there’s gonna be a full moon soon? You think we’ll be good this time?”

Wilbur– who had been frozen with embarrassment– suddenly perked up. “O-Oh! Do you guys have issues with the full moon as well?” 

“If– by issues– you mean doing crazy shit and then blacking out, then yes,” Nick said. “It’s like the one downside of being a mermaid. Well, that, and keeping the secret, not being able to drink water normally and— anyways, the full moon just makes shit super weird.”

“Yeah… we usually stay the night at Clay’s house– since he has those blinds that cover the entire window,” George added on. “When the full moon comes, you must stay with us as well!”

“Uh, thanks for the invite, George. I’ll be sure to.” Wilbur shifted in his seat.

Nick groaned. “Jesus, I’m trapped with no escape.”

“Shut your stupid fucking– dumb fucking– idiot fucking” –George hid his face in his hands– “AGH!!! Nick! Shut up!”

Wilbur blushed, chuckling lightly at how flustered the other brunette was. “Well, here comes your escape.” He pointed at the door where Clay entered, his hand falling immediately when he saw who followed him.

“Um… Wilbur? Does your brother know about us?” Nick asked. 

“No.” He pressed his lips into a thin line, his eyes locking onto Techno’s from across the cafeteria. “He doesn’t. He shouldn’t...”

‘...What the fuck did Clay tell him?’

“Oh my God, you guys got all pissed at me for telling Wilbur, when Clay’s literally a fucking snitch!” 

Clay wore a broad grin as he sat down. “Hey, guys! This is Technoblade,” he said, setting his bag on the table.

George slid his hands down his face, exasperated. “We know.” 

“Well, Nick doesn’t!” 

“Dude. We’re in the same P.E. class...” He frowned.

“Oh, that’s Nick,” Techno said, his eyes snapping away from Wilbur. “Get a better taste in music.” 

“What?!”

“You listen to Eminem. Fix it.” 

“Why are you here?” Wilbur asked, clenching his teeth.

Techno turned to him. “Clay invited me,” he drawled, “and now I’m here. What’s not clicking?” 

“Did you just come here to be a dick to me and my friends, or what?” 

“I just told you why I came here, Wil. Plus, I hardly think you’re one to lecture me about being a dick.”

“Woah, Woah!” Clay tried to cut the tension, placing a hand on Techno’s shoulder. “Why are we fighting, guys?” 

Wilbur sniffed and glared at the blonde. “He should leave.” 

“Throwing a fit much?” His older brother snapped. “I’m not going. I told Clay I’d come, and I’m not flaky– unlike someone’s scalp...” 

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you. Maybe if you weren’t such an uptight hag, you’d have been able to prison-wallet some Head & Shoulders across the border.” 

“Fine, then! I’ll leave!” He went to stand up but froze when George grabbed his forearm. The smaller boy was smiling politely, but his grip was tight. 

“Erm, hellur? Not you making a habit out of storming out...” Techno remarked, a cruel smirk crossing his lips.

Wilbur narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to reply with something vile– something that would make Techno feel sorry he even came here.

Clay interrupted again. “Hey hey hey! Let’s all just chillax!”

The brothers turned to look at him, unable to stop the laughter that escaped them. 

“Chillax?!” Wilbur managed, causing George and Nick to start giggling as well.

“Hey! When did this all turn on me?!” the blonde whined, glancing rapidly between each of his friends. “Chillax is a completely normal term here!” 

“Chillax,” George repeated, mocking his accent. “I’m from Florida and I say chillax all the time!” It was an awful American accent, but it caused Nick to start laughing harder. 

“Stop mocking me!” Clay tried to reach over to swat at the brunette’s arm.

Techno put a reassuring hand on the other’s back. “You get used to it,” he said, an easy smile gracing his features. “When you talk the way I do, and are the only American in a family of Brits– the accent-mocking gets tired after a while.”

“Yeah, but American accents are so easy to mock,” Wilbur butted in, “you guys stress all your vowels.”

George leaned over, ‘whispering’ loud enough for everyone to hear. “It’s funnier to mock Nick’s– he gets all southern when he’s riled up.” 

“Hey now! At least my accent doesn’t make my mouth shaped like a butthole when I talk!” he exclaimed through his fit of laughter.

The tension lifted in the group; though some still lingered between the brothers since Wilbur was now unable to talk about Niki without also telling Techno their secret. He had kept this under wraps for as long as he’s known his brother– even going so far as to convince Techno he couldn’t swim to keep suspicion off of him. It may have made family trips to the beach a little awkward, but as they grew up and started visiting the beach less and less, the topic of Wilbur’s avoidance was dropped completely. 

“Hey, how was your date this weekend?” George abruptly spoke up, tilting his head as he stared directly at Clay.

The blonde’s face turned red, his eyes flitting over Techno, who seemed unbothered– save for the light pink glow on his cheeks.

“It was good! I brought Techno to Cut 432 and we both had a really nice time, I’m hoping?” He glanced over to the senior again. 

Techno rolled his eyes. “I never said that.” 

George giggled, watching as his friend faced the other with a look of surprise. 

Nick leaned forwards on the table. “Blink twice if you need help,” he whispered.

“Yeah, we’ll hold Claybert back while you run.”

“Oh come on, George! We had a good time!” Distress leaked into Clay’s tone as he glanced between his friends and Techno. “I swear!”

“You had a good time. I had fun. There’s a difference.” The older teen responded, leaning forward and grabbing fries from Wilbur’s tray. 

The blonde pouted. “What?! How!” 

“How are you going to keep dating my brother if you can’t handle his jokes?” Wilbur teased, before promptly glaring at Techno for taking his food.

“You were joking?!” 

“Clearly I was pulling your leg. Must you be so Liza-Koshy-at-the-Met-Gala in front of everyone?” He yawned. 

Clay blinked. “Oh” –he slowly nodded– “Liza-Koshy-at-the-Met-Gala...” he repeated, a puzzled look on his face.

Wilbur chimed in with a scoff. “That’s a new one.” 

George giggled. “Techno, I must say I am quite fond of your vernacular! Although, I haven’t any idea what most of it means…”

“Ugh,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes, “Liza-Koshy-at-the-Met-Gala means like– overdramatic, and nobody really asked for it, but like” –he glanced over to Clay for a fraction of a second– “surprisingly cute, to be honest…”

“Aww!! Techno…” His green eyes sparkled as he dared to lean into the senior, settling in when the other seemed to permit it. 

“Ooo! So I take it you two did have a nice time?” George clapped excitedly.

“If you must know— if you feel so entitled to that information— yes, me and Clay did have a nice time,” the eldest said, unbothered. 

“Thanks for the charity answer,” Wilbur said, eliciting giggles from the other two brunettes.

“Wait, Claybert– isn’t Cut 432, like, really costly– or is that somewhere else?” 

“Well, we were gonna get boba, but it was closed,” Clay said. “So, instead I took him for dinner!”

“At a pricey joint… solid plan B option.” Nick smirked. “Damn, you really know how to treat a man.” 

“He literally refused to let me even see the check,” Techno said.

“Yeah, that’s just the way he is.” George grinned. “It’s the way he’s always been. You just learn to accept it at some point.” 

“Oh, work. A sugar daddy.” He stole another fry, earning a smack from his brother this time.

“But… I’m younger than you, though,” The blonde said, putting his head on the other’s shoulder.

“Oh, work.” Wilbur mocked, “a cougar.”

Just as he was exiting his last class, Wilbur noticed George approaching him. The boy gave a wave, his bright smile being passed onto the taller teen as he waved back.

“Hi, Wilbur!” He dug his fingers under the straps of his backpack and looked up at him. “Do you have plans after school? Nick, Clay, and I are going to the beach!”

Wilbur blinked, slightly surprised that George was able to spot him in the crowd of students.

“Actually… yeah, I’ll go with you guys,” he said, puffing a strand of hair out of his face. “I still have to talk to you all about that thing, remember?”

“Okay. We can talk in the car!” The shorter brunette grabbed Wilbur’s wrist, leading him past the school gates. “Come on!”

He gave a nod, clumsily fishing his phone out with his free hand to tell Techno not to wait up for him. 

Today 3:32 PM

 hey, pinky. >

   going to the beach with george and co. > 

don’t need a ride. >

Techno :Sparkles: :SneezingFace:

    Idc. B home b4 5 cuz I wanna go thrifting.

< I need clothes 4 this fking Florida weather.

your new boyfriend is talking to me. >

gotta tune in. bye. >

< Kys :revolving_hearts:

“Oh, there you are!” Clay called out, leaning on his car. “Wilbur, you’re coming too?” 

“Wilbur?” Nick’s head poked out from the car. 

“Yeah…” he said, lightly tugging his arm away from George.

“Right– sorry.” He let go, the remnants of cold from his hands lingering on Wilbur’s skin.

The taller teen bit his lip, glancing around to check for anybody listening in on them. George seemed to take note of this, gesturing for the group to get into the car. 

They all climbed in, Clay and Nick taking their usual seats in the front and turning around to give their undivided attention.

Wilbur swallowed hard, glancing back and forth between the three other teens. “I think Niki knows something,” he said, finally.

“Um… who?” George tilted his head. 

“Niki...with the pink hair? She’s got an accent…she’s from Germany?” He was only met with confused stares. “She goes here. I’ve seen her– I swear to you guys! She’s always hanging out with some redhead guy and another, taller guy with curly hair...” 

The group all looked up to his own hair. 

‘Fucking hell..’

“Uhm– not me. I haven’t spoken to her since my first day in Florida,” Wilbur rushed. “I wasn’t trying to ignore her, but she seems to have made up her mind on that… She was so– I don’t know– threatening?” He shrugged.

“Woah, what? Threatening?” Clay glanced over to the other two friends to confirm shocked expressions on their faces, as well.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” said Nick. 

“Well, since Techno was at the table today” –Wilbur half-glared at Clay– “there was no way I could have said it then! Besides, Techno would’ve probably taken the matter into his own hands, too. I don’t need him snooping around in our mermaid business.”

Nick snapped his fingers, getting them back on topic. “Okay, so what’d she threaten you with? Like– bodily harm or rumors or what?” 

“Well– here, look.” He opened his phone to the text messages with Niki, passing it off to the other. 

His eyebrows shot up. “What the fuck?! ‘I’ll find out your secret soon enough’?” he read, causing the other two to lean over to read as well. “What are all these weird emoticons for— and why didn’t you send us this the moment it happened?”

Wilbur shrugged and looked away. “I don’t know… I just figured telling you guys in person would be better. I didn’t want to send you guys into a panic.”

“It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?” Clay snapped, causing everyone’s eyes to widen. 

George touched his fingers to the blonde’s shoulder. “Clay,” he huffed out, “don’t.” 

“No, he’s right. I’m not used to all” –he waved a hand between all four of them– “this. For the past six years, it’s just been me keeping secrets from everyone. I think I’m just getting used to how open you all are with each other...” 

Nick shakily pointed a finger at him. “Wait– back up. You’ve been a mermaid for six years?!”  

“Um… yeah.” He blinked. “How long have you guys been mermaids?” 

“Oh… like– five…? ish… years…” Clay answered, trailing off.

Wilbur paused for a second, raising his eyebrows at him. ‘Okay, so he’s obviously lying.’

“Right…” He grabbed his phone back from Nick. “Anyways, I’m sorry for not telling you guys right away. As I said, I’m not used to all the openness and honesty...” 

“Don’t fret, Wilbur. As I said, you’re part of a team now.” George nodded at him, eliciting a nod back. 

“Okay… so what do we do now?” Nick asked, looking to Clay as if he’d have an answer.

“We could… go and confront her?” he said. “Wilbur, do you know where she hangs out after school?” 

“She works at that bakery that’s close to the beach,” he answered. “But I don’t think confronting her would be the best thing.” 

Clay turned back to the steering wheel. “Well, she needs to stay true to her word. If she’s bluffing, then she’ll back down. Simple as that.” 

The others exchanged glances and shrugged, reluctantly agreeing.

Wilbur led them into the bakery, bells ringing as they walked through the door. When they got to the counter, Niki– similar to the first time Wilbur saw her– came rushing out from the back. But this time, instead of innocent curiosity dawning on him, he felt his stomach twist with dread.

“Oh, Wilbur!” she said, through an inappropriately gleeful smile. “I’m so happy you’re here again! We haven’t talked in so long!” She peered around his tall frame, noticing the company that followed. “Oh! A-And your friends are here, too! That’s so… fun!”

He gave a polite smile in return. “Hi, Niki. It’s good to see you as well. I’m actually here to talk to you” –he took a deep breath and lowered his voice– “about your texts to me.”

She hid behind her hands. “Ah! I-I’m sorry!! I told you– I didn’t mean the period!!” 

“I know, Niki. I was talking about the texts you sent after that; your most recent ones to me.”

“Right, I’m such an idiot! P-please don’t hate me!! We’re doing a sale right now where you can get two cronuts for free i-if you buy one! I can change the n-numbers! I can make it buy one get five– or six– or s-seven! Just please don’t hate me!!!”

George moved out from behind Wilbur to stand beside him. “Nobody hates you, Niki. We’re certain this is all just a very unfortunate misunderstanding…”

“You’re lying!!” She removed her hands from her face, promptly bringing them back up to cover a sneeze. “A-Achoo! Sorry…”

Clay turned to Nick slowly and whispered, “Did she just say ‘achoo’..?”

“Hey! I-I heard that you bully!!” Niki gripped the counter and stared through Wilbur at the blonde. “I-It’s one thing to talk about me behind my back, but it’s another thing to talk about me behind someone else’s back— in front of me!!!”

Wilbur took a small step forward. “Hey, don’t worry about them, Niki. Clay didn’t mean anything by that– he was just confused…”

“Yeah, he’s always confused!” Nick said, giving a friendly smile to the girl. “Don’t worry… uh…” he trailed off, stepping towards the counter slightly and squinting at her nametag.

She slammed her hands down, causing Wilbur and company to recoil in surprise. “It’s NIKI!!! Wilbur JUST said my name!!!” Her hands gripped at her pink hair– she seemed like she was about to rip it out. “You dumb, sloppy, g-gross, ugly, good-for-nothing IDIOT!!!”

The tallest advanced straight to the counter. “Hey, don’t talk to my friends like that, please. We can work something out, Niki, just calm down…”

“I WAS YOUR FRIEND FIRST!!!” She started heaving, her blue eyes becoming glassy. “You don’t get to pick and choose who you protect!!! You ignored me and n-never reached out!!! You’re just as bad as your dumb, piggy, stupid friends!!!”

‘Holy shit, she is crazy. Has she been hiding this side of her the whole time…?’

Wilbur was done trying to appease her. “Niki, do not talk about them that way,” he said, his tone dead serious. “You can be mad all you want, but that doesn’t mean you get to send threatening texts to me—”

“–Well then how else was I supposed to get your attention?!” she cried out, sniffling through her words. “Let’s go outside– I c-can’t risk my boss finding me like this...”

The others nodded and began apprehensively walking to the side door which led them to a back alley where the bakery received its orders. Along the way, the boys kept shooting each other various looks of surprise, confusion, and fear. 

Wilbur was the one to speak first once they got outside. “Niki… I’m s—”

“–Don’t act like you’re sorry now, and don’t act like you came here to apologize. You’re only here because I threatened you, I-I know that’s why!! You abandoned me and I knew those texts were the only way to get you to talk to me again! I’m s-sorry! Don’t hate me!”

George stepped in, clearly annoyed at her antics. “Nobody abandoned you. You could have approached our table during lunch whenever you pleased, but instead you chose to meander about and bask in your insipid loner persona.”

Wilbur and Clay’s eyes shot open, and Nick even let out an audible gasp.

Niki huffed and crossed her arms. “Oh, you say that like I w-wouldn’t have been shunned. You specifically are known to do that to people, George . Jonathan told me how you c-completely bullied him out of your circle– so it’s c-crazy that you let Wilbur into your little dream team.” 

“No one bullied Schlatt,” he said, narrowing his eyes, “he was the one making homophobic comments about Nick’s friendship with Karl. We only remove people from our group if they deserve it. Quit talking about matters you don’t understand.” 

“I-I understand, George! Trust me! So then, did Eret deserve to be kicked from your group?” She stepped towards the other, her hands balling up into fists. “O-Or what about Luke, hm? Admit it– you love to lure p-people in just to ice them out!!”

Clay stepped between Niki and George. “Hey, Eret wanted to leave,” he said. “They can come back whenever they want.”

She looked up at him, unclenching her hands and exhaling slowly. “Hmm, too bad she doesn’t want to...” 

The blonde scoffed. “And how would you know?” 

“Cause she hangs out with me.” She turned away from him, hands gripping at her hair once more. “Yeah– ever since you ostracized her, she’s been telling me all your little secrets.”

The group– aside from Wilbur– froze and stared at her. 

‘I don’t believe it… something is off.’  

“You’re lying,” Wilbur stated, plainly. “If she was actually feeding you information about us, then why would you throw her under the bus like you just did?” His friends’ heads snapped to him, all three of them wearing matching looks of surprise. 

Niki’s face flushed completely red. “Wh-What do you mean…?” 

George excitedly rushed to Wilbur’s side. “He’s right!” he said, beaming. “If Eret was really your informant, you wouldn’t have told us just now– since it would cause us to become wary of her and stop confiding in her!”

“Exactly. We’re done here.” The other teen scoffed and turned to leave. “Clearly you don’t know anything. Next time, why don’t you just reach out, yeah?”

Nick let out a low whistle. “Yeah, Ricky. You can come to sit with us tomorrow! Just– have all this crazy stuff worked out by then, please…” 

“...Ricky?” She paused, a wicked smile cracking across her face. “You know, Wilbur, it’s a shame, really. Your friends can’t be bothered to remember my name– but your brother would never forget it like that... Oh, he is just the sweetest little thing!”

Wilbur froze. “...What?”

“Oh, yeah! He actually already knew my name when he first walked through the door! He was going on and on about your contact for me– a-and there was something yesterday, too. It seemed to be really bugging him...” She tapped her chin in faux thought. “Something that involved you and– what was it… Techno? What an interesting name...”

He turned back to Niki, taking enough steps forward that she was now looking up at him. “Do not– ever– talk to Tommy, got it?”

“Why? Are you afraid he’s gonna hate you more or something? The way you h-hate me?” She batted her eyelashes and giggled. “You know, thirteen-year-olds are very impressionable. I-It would suck if his opinion of you were to sour…”

Wilbur took another step, now towering over her. 

George grabbed his arm suddenly, preventing him from saying anything more. “I’m growing tired of this,” he said, his dark eyes glowering at Niki. “The pathetic, cheap shots you’re trying to take at our group were interesting at first, but if the only tricks you have up your sleeves are empty threats– then I can’t say I care enough to stay and hear out your incessant babbling any longer.” He shook his hair out of his face, tugging on Wilbur’s arm. “Now, we will be going, but know this— it is imperative that you stay the hell away from Wilbur’s family. He’s expressed wishes for you to not speak to Tommy, and you will respect them.”

“...or what?” Niki gulped. “Y-You’ll hate me…?”

“Oh, Ricky…” George tilted his head, forcing his lips up into a scornful grin. “I already do.” 

He turned to walk away, leading Wilbur behind him by his sleeve. The other boys just stood there, stunned at George’s sudden sharp tongue. 

Nick turned to the girl. “I take back my invitation to sit with us, by the way,” he said, starting off to follow his friends.

“Yeah– and don’t talk to Wilbur’s other brother either, or I’ll do something very bad,” Clay added, before breaking out in a light jog to get ahead of Nick.

Niki slid down to her knees, defeated. “I’m s-so sorry!!!” She called out, her body beginning to rack with sobs. 

The group continued walking, and George’s grip on Wilbur’s arm tightened.

‘I need to warn Tommy about her…’ was his only thought.

“Hey George,” Nick said, breaking the silence in the car, “what the fuck was that?” 

“I know, right?” Clay agreed, his eyes not leaving the road.

The brunette looked out the window, resting his face in his hand. “What was… what?” 

“The way you totally fucking destroyed that girl!” Nick waved his hands around, reliving the moment in his head.

“Yeah, George. I didn’t know you had that in you…” Wilbur shrugged, side-eyeing the other boy. “It was a little scary,” he joked.

“Oh, stop it…” He turned towards the taller boy, shoving him slightly. “It was surprising for me, too. I haven’t had to do that for the longest time…”

“Time!” Nick shouted, randomly.

George rolled his eyes. “Right– time, yes.” 

“Wait– you’ve done that before…?” Wilbur fidgeted with his seatbelt, his curiosity piqued.

“There are plenty of things I’ve done that I don’t wish to speak about anymore. The past is the past– we can only move forward.” 

Silence consumed the car once again. 

Wilbur let out a long sigh, his eyes darting around the interior. “Well– I’m sorry, George... I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine. I just don’t like to linger on the topic.” He gave the other a shy smile to show he wasn’t upset before turning his attention forwards to Clay. “Claybert, put in Eret’s address. We’re going to talk to her.”

“Today? Right now?” The blonde looked around and changed lanes. “But we were gonna go to the beach!” he whined.

“We can go after, but we must speak with her about that Niki girl.” 

Nick chimed in, “Yeah, just ‘cause Wilbur called her bluff doesn’t mean we shouldn’t still be careful.”

“Precisely, Nick. We need to cover our bases. I don’t wish for there to be even a sliver of a chance that Eret could be working against us.”

“Ugh, fiiiiiinnneeee!” Clay huffed out, handing his phone to Nick. “Put in the address. It’s 24—”

“—I know what his address is, dumbass.”

Wilbur leaned over to clarify with George, “Right, so how much does Eret know?”

He crossed his arms and looked right into the other’s eyes. “She knows.”

After driving up five miles worth of paths, inputting the code to the security gate, and walking by the multiple decorative fountains in the courtyard, the group finally stood at the doors of Eret’s house. Although, mansion was definitely the more appropriate term. 

Clay buzzed into the palace, speaking into the intercom, “Eret! It’s Clay, Nick, and George! We wanna talk to you!”

The door opened almost immediately, and the teens were greeted by a butler. He wordlessly led them down the entry hall and into a living area to wait. 

Wilbur’s friends made themselves comfortable on couches that he couldn’t even dream of affording– and all he could do was sit down awkwardly next to George, and marvel at the architecture. He wanted to say something about it, but his phone buzzing in his pocket caused the words to die on his tongue.

He checked the notification, his eyebrows raising when he saw it was his brother. 

‘Shit, it’s five. I told him I’d be home by now.’

Today 5:13 PM

Techno :Sparkles: :SneezingFace:

    Hellur? Where r u. Don’t make me go

< thrifting by myself. 

shit. sorry. >

i lost track of time. >

george wanted me to meet his friend. >

< :neutral_face: 

    Sewwww like I get George is ur little 

    obsession atm but mayb at least lmk when

< u wanna make like ur scalp and flake.

< :caucasian_woman_shrugging:

george is not my obsession. >

i don’t know how i feel yet, actually. >

also… >

 what is your obsession with my dandruff? >

   Wut is ur dandruff’s obsession with *U*?

< Seek treatment. :skull:

you are the worst. >

i’ll be home soon. >

let’s go thrifting this weekend. >

i need clothes too. >

< Lingerie for George? :pleading_face:

please die? >

< :ghost:

Wilbur chuckled, turning off his phone and turning to George. “So… does Eret know about us?” he asked.

The other boy scooted closer to him. “Yes. She doesn’t know about you, though.” 

Nick shouted across the room, his eyes glued to his phone. “Well, he’s gonna have to know. We don’t usually have normal people just tagging along with us.”

“Wilbur doesn’t have to tell her if he doesn’t want to,” George replied.

“Yeah. We can make up some excuse,” Clay interjected, nervously glancing between the entrance and his friends.

“It’s fine. If Eret knows about you guys, then obviously I can trust her– or– him...” he trailed off, unsure of what pronouns to use. 

“You can say either– she doesn’t mind,” said George.

Wilbur nodded. “Thank you. Uhm, so then obviously I can trust her.” 

“Trust me with what?” A strikingly familiar voice rang out– and the person walked out to stand in front of the group with a smile.

‘Oh! This is the Eret that George told me about last week– the one in my art class.’

Clay was the first to move, bounding over to give them a hug. “Eret! Hi!” he said, patting them on the back several times. “I love this dress! The strawberry print is so cool!”

They laughed, patting him right back. “Thank you, Clay! How have you been?”

“Good!” He pulled away from the hug, scratching the back of his head. “Well… not good. That’s why we’re here.” 

“Oh? Is it something to do with…” Eret trailed off, their eyes drifting away to find Wilbur. “Oh hey– you’re from my art class.” 

“I am.” 

“And you’re here.” 

“Uhm, I am.”

“Got a pencil yet?”

Wilbur laughed. “No, not yet.”

Eret laughed as well. “Right, right… So are you…?” They motioned to the other three teens.

“Yes. I’m one too.”

It felt freeing– being able to openly talk about this secret with someone completely normal.

“Oh shit.” They grinned, sitting down on George’s other side. “So– did you get your tail at the Moon Pool too?” 

Wilbur shook his head. “No, uh… when I was like ten– maybe– I was playing around near some cliffs and I ended up falling into the water, and well...”

George giggled. “What were you doing near the cliffs during a full moon when you were ten?” 

“Oh, uhm” –he shrugged– “basically, I was out before the sun went down, and I ended up coming home soaking wet. My dad was incredibly cross with me— rightfully so, I’d say...” A chuckle tumbled out of his mouth.

“Ah– so you’ve been a mermaid for much longer,” Eret said, leaning forward to look at him across George, “you must have valuable knowledge.” 

Wilbur shrugged again. “Uh… I don’t know. Maybe.” 

“I see, I see– so is that what you guys came here to talk about?” 

“No, actually,” George sighed out. “Do you happen to know someone named Niki? She has pink hair, and she said she hangs out with you.”

“Yeah, with me and Floris,” they confirmed, “she’s… certainly a character.” They looked off to the side, a frown pulling at their lips. “She always asks about you guys since we used to hang out.”

Wilbur scoffed. “What is her obsession? You know, she kept blasting George and the rest of us, and she sent me these texts last night...” He handed his phone to Eret. 

They blinked, looking down at the texts displayed on the screen. “Um” –they looked back up– “I don’t think this is right...” They returned the phone, looking away with second-hand embarrassment.

He glanced down, his jaw nearly dropping when he saw his latest texts with Techno on the screen. “Right, sorry.” His ears burnt up and he hurriedly scrolled to the texts with Niki.  “Here,” he said, showing them the screen again.

Eret shot him a knowing look but looked through the messages, shuddering with surprise when they got to the end. “Oh wow. Well– uh, I can assure you that I didn’t say a single word about you guys at all. I wouldn’t– I swear.” 

‘We never said you did…’ Wilbur squinted at them momentarily before shaking any doubts from his mind, shadows of guilt creeping up on him. 

“We know you wouldn’t, Eret.” George placed a gentle hand on their arm, a kind smile gracing his face. “We trust you, we always have.” 

They nodded, sighing. “I’ll try to keep her off your tails– uh– pun not intended. But, what should we do if she does find out somehow?”

Clay let out a yelp of laughter. “Ha! ‘Pun not intended’. Eret, you’re so funny– you should come back to the group! At least until Niki leaves us alone...”

They winced, diverting their gaze from the other teens. “I’m still welcome?” they asked, glancing up to Wilbur for half a second.

Nick perked up. “Of course you are! We meant it when we said you’re welcome back any time. Stick with us!”

“Yes,” George said, “please don’t feel like we replaced you or anything. You’re still our friend!”

“Right. I’m not ‘the new you’ or anything,” Wilbur said, “I’m only in the group because of my tail...”

The other boy gasped. “That’s not the only reason why!”

Eret chuckled and nodded their head. “Alright, then! But, you know, I don’t want to leave Floris alone with Niki…”

Clay stood up, beaming. “So just bring Floris with you!”

“You sure? But we can’t talk about mermaid stuff in front of him,” they said, resting their head on their fist.

“Oh, true.” George hummed. “Do you still have your boat?” 

“You know it.”

“Then, why don’t we just meet at the Moon Pool whenever we want to discuss things pertaining to mermaids?” he concluded.

“That works.” Eret smiled softly. “Alright, I’ll talk to Floris about joining the group!”

“Right, then! So, for now, let’s all just stay away from Niki. And– Wilbur– are you going to inform your brothers about her as well?” 

“Uhm… yeah,” he mumbled. “Techno will listen– but I don’t know about Tommy. He’s not really talking to me right now...”

George frowned, bumping his shoulder with Wilbur’s. “Hey– I’m sure he’ll listen if you tell him it’s for his own safety...”

“Yeah! Show him you care about him! That’s what works with my younger sibling,” Clay said, giving a thumbs up.

Wilbur sighed. “Maybe...”

“Okay! Well, if that’s that on that” –he started towards the door suddenly– “can we go to the beach now? Eret, come with us!” 

“Oh, I’d love to! Just let me change out of my Demonias...”

After the beach trip, Wilbur made sure to enter his house quietly, his eyes peeled for the rest of his family. He heard soft humming from the kitchen– his father, surely– but the rest of the downstairs area seemed empty. He remained silent as he crept up the stairs, eventually finding himself standing before Tommy’s door.

He knocked softly and it cracked open; a blonde mess of hair poking into his view for only a second before the door slammed shut again. Wilbur blinked.

“Tommy?” he tried, gently. “Can we talk?”

“Go away, Wilbur.” A temptation to scream balanced on the boy’s tongue, but he kept his voice low.

“It’s important. I wouldn’t be bugging you if it wasn’t...” 

The door opened again, slowly, and blue eyes scanned him for a moment. Then– after nodding to himself– Tommy swung the door open, before crossing over to his bed and pressing his back against the wall. Wilbur shuffled over to the closet, ensuring that the boy had enough space for an escape route if he didn’t feel safe. His brothers’ experience in the foster system made them extra skittish, and this was something that would never leave them. Wilbur and Phil simply had to adjust to it.

“I…” He was at a loss for words– carefully considering whether he should jump straight to the point or just apologize.

“Why have you been such a dick lately?” Tommy said, his eyes flickering over to the open door. 

“I’m” –he sighed, crossing his arms and looking down at the floor– “I’m sorry, Tommy. I was so angry about the move, and a lot of other stuff, and I chose to take it out on you...” 

It felt weird– apologizing to his sibling. It wasn’t something that any of them usually did, but Wilbur knew that this wasn’t something he could rectify with only actions or time. 

His brother rolled his eyes. “Damn right you did. You didn’t even appreciate my very funny crab pun. Instead you just… you know.” 

“I do know.” Wilbur nodded. “I'm especially sorry for that.”

Tommy hummed, then nodded his head as well, showing he accepted the apology. “So then, is that all? Do you wanna play Super Smash Brothers?” 

“Well, actually…” The teen bit his lip, catching himself glancing over to the door now, too. “There’s one more thing; have you ever been to the bakery by the beach?”

“That’s it?” He scrunched up his face in confusion. “You mean the one with Niki Pink Heart Cat Emoji?” The boy stifled a snicker. “Yes, I did. We actually talked about you and your dumb, shithead self.”

Wilbur laughed along, trying to steer the conversation back to a serious place. “Yeah, that bakery. Uh– listen, Tommy, I don’t think you should talk to her anymore...” 

“What?! Why?!” 

“Because she's not a good person. I-I don’t trust her...”

“But she seemed perfectly nice when I spoke with her,” Tommy said. “She even gave me some advice!” 

‘That fucking snake…’

He took a deep breath, composing himself. “Okay, then. What did she say?”

“Well– I mean– I figured since she was your friend and all, I could tell her you were being a b– um, a not very kind person.” His face went red. “She said um…”

“She said...?”

“Hey! Don’t pressure me!” He crossed his arms and furrowed his brow. “Well, she said that I shouldn’t forgive people that keep making the same mistakes…” He began picking at lint balls on his shirt. “I didn’t think anything of it until you and dad started fighting... and– well...” 

Wilbur sighed, relaxing his posture and walking over to take a seat next to Tommy. “Toms, the issues I have with Phil are not your fault.” He took his brother’s hand in both of his, the boy leaning slightly into the contact.

“Yeah, but you kept bringing me and Techno up. Like we were just– add-ons to your family and not...” He cut himself off, turning his head completely away from the other. “I don’t know, I don't know, I don't know! Wil– we’re part of this family just as much as you are…” His face seemed to droop, the next words visibly taking strength to get out, “And it doesn’t matter if we’re not blood-related…”

His eyes widened and he stared down at his younger brother. “What? No, Tommy, that’s not what I meant when I was yelling at Phil–”

“–And you keep calling Dad ‘Phil’ just so you can prove some point as if he didn’t raise you! I had to go through so many homes until someone finally thought I was worth the effort, and you never had to go through that! You just… don’t seem very grateful.”

“Listen,” Wilbur spoke through gritted teeth, “you know that I’d never discredit your experiences, or Phil– shit– Dad’s love for you, but I don’t think you understand my side of things.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes, yanking his hand away from his brother. “No! I don’t think you understand my side!”

“Why does this always need to be a huge thing?” The teen huffed. “The fights between me and Dad are none of your business. If I bring you or Techno up, it's to prove a point. Not because I don’t see you as part of this family.”

“You always make it a thing!” His lip began to quiver. “You are such a cunt about EVERYTHING!!” he snapped, moving off his bed and away from the other. 

Wilbur leaned forward to get up. “Don’t call me that!” 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!!! Stop screaming at me!!! Get OUT!!!” Tommy pointed at the door, his finger trembling.

Wilbur began to advance slowly to the exit. “I wasn’t screaming at y—”

“–Shut up, Wil!! Why can’t you EVER admit when you’re WRONG?!” 

“I just apologized to you, Tommy! Do you want me to do it again?!”

The boy froze, his explosive anger compressing itself into a frightening silence. Wilbur felt chills run across the back of his neck, unsure of what Tommy was going to say next.

“Maybe Niki was right,” he said, his eyes wide and void of any further thought; he had made up his mind about Wilbur. “You keep making the same mistakes, and I keep forgiving you, but you’ll never change. You don’t care about anyone except yourself.”

Wilbur took a few steps back, stunned at his brother’s analysis of him. Regardless of whether or not it was true, it still hurt to hear something like that– especially when coming from someone who used to idolize him.

“Okay, Tommy.” He walked out of the room, stopping just outside the door frame. “I love you, yeah?”

Suddenly, his anger came flooding back to him. “I HATE YOU!!” he shouted, speeding towards Wilbur and slamming the door in his face.

He blinked.

‘What just happened?’

By the time the sun had gone down, Wilbur had not emerged from his room. He made a sincere effort to mend things with Tommy, but the conversation just spiraled out of nowhere; the youngest’s words echoed through the teen’s head over and over to no end– and he just hated himself for how things turned out.

Techno had peeked his head in earlier to ask what happened, but Wilbur just pretended to be asleep. He didn’t really want to tell him, anyways.  He knew that Techno would just side with Tommy, who then would side with his father– and Techno could do no wrong in his father’s eyes– so Wilbur would just be singled out once again.

He hadn’t even bothered to turn the light on as his room darkened– the warmth of a lamp was not something he felt he deserved with the way he constantly disappointed his brothers and father. 

‘I’m such a fucking loser. Maybe it’s MY turn to go through the foster system… I don’t deserve this family. They’re too good for me to always be ruining everything.

‘They deserve to be happy.

‘I know they’d be happy if I was gone…’

Phil’s sudden entrance broke through his thoughts, and he couldn’t help but tense at the intrusion. His father was usually one to respect their privacy, so whatever was making him enter without knocking was definitely serious. He had already established that it would be Wilbur’s choice to talk about the fight, so it couldn’t be that...

‘Ugh, it’s about Tommy, then.’ He rolled over, trying to block out the rest of the world.

“I can see the light from your phone,” Phil whispered.

Wilbur looked over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at his father’s silhouette. “What do you want?”

“To talk,” he said. “Tommy told me what happened.”

“Oh, great,” Wilbur grumbled, turning off his phone to bathe the room in darkness. “I’m sure that paints me in such a great light.” 

“Wil…” 

“Did he tell you that he called me a cunt?” He scoffed. “Your no-sexist-language lessons are really paying off.” 

“He… didn’t tell me that,” Phil said, walking over to Wilbur’s bed and sitting by his feet. 

He pulled his knees to his chest, keeping a wary eye on his father. “I was just worried about him, okay? I didn’t want him talking to an– uhm, ex-friend– of mine, then he got all” –he waved his hands around– “weird! And I apologized– I apologized for everything, but I guess he wasn’t ready to hear it!”

The man hummed, a small smile crossing his face. “That’s good, Wil. I’m proud of you for apologizing.”

Wilbur raised his eyebrows. “Oh… Uh, thanks,” he said, allowing the tension in his shoulders to ebb slightly. “So, you’re not mad at me..?”

Phil stood up with a sigh, placing a gentle hand on his son’s head and gingerly running his fingers through his curls. Wilbur leaned into it, closing his eyes and forgetting– just for a moment– that there was a wall between them.

“I prepared you a plate since you missed dinner. Please eat something, alright?” The delicateness of his voice touched a spot deep in Wilbur’s heart– a private room he was sure he closed off years ago. 

He felt his throat constrict, his nose scrunching up to quell the burn of tears in his eyes. “...Thank you,” he said. 

Chapter Text

Today: 3:45 PM

Wilbur (AP Lit)

< hey

Hello!  >

< so.

< bad news…

                               Your dad isn’t allowing you to 

spend the night? :^(  >

< yes. that. 

< i’m sorry… 

< i tried everything. 

    i told him clay would drive me to 

    school tomorrow, i offered to get

< clay’s parents on the phone...

< he wouldn’t budge.

    he said i “couldn’t sleep over on a 

< school night.”

How heartbreaking… >

                              Does he know that it’s your first 

full moon in Florida? I’m sure if he 

knew how big of a deal it is… >

< ?

   Right, sorry. I forgot he doesn’t 

know. >

< haha.

    how have you kept your secret

< this long, george?

Hey! Don’t be mean! >

< i was teasing.

Hehe. I know :^) >

        It’s truly a shame you can’t come...

we’ll be missing your company. >

< that means a lot.

< thank you. :yellow_heart:

George’s jaw completely dropped. “GUYS! He just sent me a heart!” he said, scanning his eyes over it several more times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming or hallucinating. 

Nick turned around from the passenger seat. “Jesus, how many? Your phone’s been vibrating like it’s on withdrawal.”

“Shut up, Nick!” He reached forward and flicked him on the shoulder. “That’s just how he texts– you know this! Now, what should I say?!” 

“Well” –Clay glanced at him in the rearview mirror– “what kind of heart was it?”

“Yellow..? I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Oh, okay.” He took a hand off the steering wheel to scratch his temple contemplatively. A nod cemented his decision into place, and he exclaimed, “You should play it safe, then– send him a smiley face!” 

“I’ve already sent one!”

“Jesus, Gogy. You’re so easy,” Nick chimed in, bracing himself for another shoulder flick.

George caught the hesitation and reached around to flick him on his other shoulder. 

“Hey hey hey! No flicking business in my car!” Clay reached behind himself to swat the other’s hands away from Nick. “George– just keep it casual. Send a heart back, and don’t say anything else!

“Okay, okay!” A second passed, the ‘whoosh’ sound of the message carrying an air of finality. “...I’ve done it,” he said, and it felt like admitting to a crime.

“Good! Now, ask him if he can come over tonight for the full moon.” 

George tilted his head. “I already have. He said his father won’t allow it.”

Clay turned the volume of the music all the way down. “What?! Then why didn’t you lead with that?!”

Nick shook his head. “Gogy, was the heart shit really more important than knowing whether or not he’d be spending his first full moon with us?”

“It was of vital importance to me!” He crossed his arms and turned his attention out the window. 

“Georgie, you can’t be this down bad, can you?”

“You’re one to talk, Claybert. Remind me; which of us has already put a heart in the contact name of the person they admire?”

“Hey– at least me and Techno are going somewhere! You and Wilbur have been ‘just friends’ for like, two weeks now!”

“That is completely normal! Not everyone likes their relationships to move hundreds of miles a minute.” George sighed, his face flushing at the thought of calling whatever he had with Wilbur a ‘relationship’. “Regardless– I’m not even sure if he likes me back, and I’m not going to say anything until I’m completely certain he does!”

Nick put a hand over his mouth to stop a laugh on its way out. “Taking the chicken way out, George?”

“It’s the safe way!”

“Dude– you gotta be kidding. He’s been all over you, especially ever since you told him you were a mermaid. And he sent a heart, or whatever– so why don’t you just ask him out?”

Clay placed his hand on Nick’s wrist, correcting him, “Well, it was just a yellow heart… If it was the double hearts or the on-fire heart, then I’d say he’s one-hundred-percent into him.”

“My bad, Clay. I forgot you had a fucking degree in emoji studies.”

“A fucking degree?!” the blonde laughed out. “But I’m a virgin!”

George hunched over, covering his face with his hands. “Oh my God, Clay. That was so stupid.”

“Well, there’s plenty more where that came from– and you can’t run away tonight!”

‘Damn this full moon…’  

Nick sighed. “Fuck this fucking full moon.”

“I was thinking the same thing, Nick!” 

When the brunettes began sniggering, Clay said, “Oh, come on! Don’t act like you hate it that much… You guys love our full-moon-sleepovers!” He shifted lanes, keeping on the route to his house.

“Who’s acting, Claybert?”

“Yeah, Clay! You’re the one in theatre class!” Nick reached his hand back to fist-bump George, who left him hanging. 

The blonde swerved suddenly to throw the other two off balance. “Just for that– you’re gonna help me memorize my monologue.”

The lavish living space of Clay’s house– while not as big as Eret’s– was more than enough space for the teens to get comfortable in while they waited for the full moon to pass. 

On the lush carpet that stretched across the floor paced an uncharacteristically-focused Clay, who recited aloud lines from ‘The Crucible’ while George and Nick sat exasperated on one of the velvet loveseats in the room. As the two boys passed a copy of the script back and forth to make sure their friend made no errors, they couldn’t fight the feeling of their eyes rolling into the backs of their skulls. With the full-coverage blinds drawn, the only light illuminating the space came from overheads and strategically-placed lamps.

‘If I have to hear him do this one more time…’

Clay turned on his heel for the umpteenth time, starting back to the other end of the room as he acted out his monologue, strong hands matching each word with a calculated gesture. “She thinks to dance with me on my wife’s grave! And well she might! For I thought of her kindly…” he trailed off and glanced over to his friends. “For I thought of her kindly…?” he repeated, his eyes now focusing on the script in George’s lap. 

‘Why is he looking at me like that?’

Nick pressed a firm elbow into the other teen’s side. “George– the line?”

“What?” He glanced down. “Oh, right. Um– I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Ugh. Gimme it, then!” Nick snatched the script from his hands, holding it out in front of him and squinting at the words. “The line is ‘for I thought of her softly’, Clay. Not kindly.”

Clay nodded. “Right, sorry! Thanks, Nick.”

“Don’t thank me. I just want this to be over faster.”

George giggled, leaning slightly into the other brunette. “Me too. Can we please take a break?”

“Absolutely not, George! I just know the reason the teacher gave all of us monologues from ‘The Crucible’ is because they want to do it for the spring play— and I need John Proctor on my resumé!”

Nick leaned forward, looking through his eyebrows at Clay. “Are you sure Carnegie Mellon is going to want to know that you played a creepy old guy who had an affair with a seventeen year old?” 

“Yeah Claybert, nobody likes creepy old guys. I say we take a break!”

“He’s the lead part! It’s not about if he’s a good person or not– if I play him, it’ll show that I’m like, a versatile talent!” Clay said, digging his hands into his pockets. “Besides, I’m not applying to Carnegie. No way I’d get in.”

Nick shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know anything about Carnegie Mellon, I just said the first theatre school that came to my mind.”

But before Clay had any more time to pout about his college plans, his phone began to ring from atop the coffee table in front of the other two teens. Ever so nosy, they looked over to examine the contact name and picture, a silent conversation being had between them through eye contact once they saw.

“Oh! Techno’s calling!” The blonde jumped into action, tapping the green icon to pick up the call before putting it on speaker. He cleared his throat, his voice seeming to drop a bit lower. “Hey, Techno…” he said, a grin beginning to spread across his face. “Before you say anything– I want you to know you’re on speaker. I’m with George and Nick.”

‘Kill me right now.’

“How just,” Techno said, his voice carrying a hint of apprehension that everyone but Clay seemed to pick up on. “Uh, look– I’ve kinda got a sitch...”

“A sitch,” he repeated, a smile tugging at his lips. “That’s short for situation, right? What’s up?”

There was a pause on the other end and sounds of shuffling, then a car door slam. “Hold on a sec, my phone’s gonna connect to the car.”

“Okay...” One of Clay’s fingers found itself a lock of his golden hair, and he began twirling it with sickening infatuation.

George was flabbergasted. ‘Oh my God… Clay is literally a moron,’ he thought. He shot a look at Nick in search of validation of his feelings– but the other only shrugged.

Techno’s audio quality deteriorated slightly, signaling that he was now speaking through his car’s Bluetooth. “Right, so I think Wilbur’s high or something,” he said, letting out an incredulous scoff. “He keeps mumbling something about your house– or swimming? But I don’t want him near the water, he doesn’t even know how to swim! God, I hate stoners. So fucking gauche.”

Clay laughed and bit at his lip. “Oh my God, that’s so nuts. Well–  I didn’t know he couldn’t swim, can you swim?” he asked, sitting down on the carpet, cross-legged.

“Ugh,” he said, ignoring the question, “it’s fucking freezing.” 

The noise of heated air blowing kept the call from going into total silence, and the three teens could hear Wilbur mumble something, but the microphone didn’t pick it all up. 

“Clay, I’m literally pissed. Wilbur said he’d come thrifting with me so I could get clothes to deal with this neurotic Florida weather– but now I have to wait all the way until the weekend since he just had to meet another mud-bug from ‘George and Friends’.” Techno’s tone was bitter, but George chose not to read into it. 

“Oh, thrifting? What are you wearing right now?” Clay uncrossed his legs and flopped onto his stomach, kicking his feet into the air.

Techno exhaled out of his nose. “Perv. My brother’s in the car– quit being such a whored-out skeeze for two seconds,” he teased.

The blonde giggled. “Noooo, not like that,” he said, rolling over onto his back.

Nick turned to George, now visibly irritated as well. “Hey– do you think Wilbur is...” he whispered, gesturing his hand up to signify the moon.

“I don’t know...” the British boy reached his hand out and gestured with his fingers as if to say ‘give it’. 

Clay put the call on mute. “George, no,” he whispered, “he never calls first! Let me enjoy this, please?”

 “Oh come off it, you’re not even listening.” He swatted the other’s head. “Wilbur’s in trouble. Let me talk to Techno.”

“Ow! Wait– he is?” He reluctantly handed George the phone.

The brunette glared at him and took the call off mute. “Hi, Techno– it’s George. So you said Wilbur is talking about Clay's house and swimming, yes?” he said, his voice carrying a heavy urgency that his friend had been lacking.  

“Oh, hi. Yeah– swimming, Clay’s house, and the moon, too.”

‘Okay, so it’s DEFINITELY a moon thing.’

“Right then– um, and you said he was high?”

“Yeah. I mean he doesn’t have red eyes or anything but he’s certainly being very… Russell Brand, you know? I’ve never seen him like this.” 

“He probably is,” said George, “um, high– not Russell Brand. You should bring him to Clay’s for the night so your dad doesn’t find out.”

Nick jutted in, “And, uh, I’ve got experience with coming down from a high. He’ll be safe here.” 

Clay sat up. “Yeah! Come over! We can take care of Wilbur!” he cheered. “And, if you want, you could come in and say hi!” 

The other two teens locked their gazes on the blonde. His eyes widened, but the stupid smile was there to stay.

“...Sure,” Techno said, the slightest waver detectable in his voice.

“Okay–I’ll text you the address! You can just let yourself in, too. We’ll leave the door unlocked!”

“Whatever, Clay.” With that, Techno hung up, leaving the three teens in silence. 

“You are so… daft,” George remarked.

“Hey– I’m sorry, okay? I got excited!” Clay whined.

“...Evidently.”

“No! Not that kind of excited! What’s wrong with you?” 

George rolled his eyes. “What’s wrong with you? Instead of being concerned that Wilbur– our friend–  is all moon-blinked, you chose to flirt with his brother instead!” He tossed Clay’s phone back to him.

“Oh, come on– you’re one to talk! You were the one freaking out about a heart Wilbur sent you when you were supposed to be focused on whether or not he could come over!”

“Enough,” the brunette huffed out, his face warming slightly. “Techno will be here soon– we need to be prepared for when he drops off Wilbur. It’s likely he’ll be acting the complete opposite of his normal self– the way we act when under the moon’s influence.”

“Okay, right! Well– I should go clean up!” Clay started towards the stairs, an irritating bounce to his step.

Nick leaned back into the cushions. “Techno’s not gonna care if you look messy, Clay.” 

“Um, he so will!”

Thirty minutes later, a knock sounded from the door, followed by the creaking of its opening. George and Nick took Techno’s arrival as their cue to put on a pair of dark sunglasses each, just as an extra layer of protection from the moon. But Clay– on the other hand– took it as his cue to come racing down the stairs in a completely different outfit, his medium-length hair slicked back into a golden bun. All three teens watched as Techno stumbled into the entrance hall, struggling to stabilize his brother and close the door behind him at the same time.

‘Oh dear… Wilbur looks so out of it…’ George thought– and he wasn’t too far off.

Wilbur was leaning on Techno– apparently unable to support his own weight. The older teen looked mildly annoyed at best, but George swore he saw his face soften slightly when Clay rushed to his side to take the younger off his hands.

“Oh– thank you, Clay,” said Techno, his voice carrying the same waver as before. “Wilbur’s gone from silent, to clingy. Just– take him...” 

“Right!” Clay wrapped one of Wilbur’s arms around his shoulder, holding him up with relative ease “So… how are you?”

“I’m… fine.”

“Do you wanna stay for a second? I can make dinner…”

“Um—”

“—He can’t, Clay. We need to give Wilbur our full attention, remember?” George chimed in, starting towards the blonde. 

He unwrapped Wilbur’s arm from around the other’s shoulder, trying to carry him himself. Feeling the taller boy’s full weight on his side, he started to lose balance– until Nick came up next to him and took Wilbur’s other arm. Once the two boys distributed the weight comfortably, they began to drag him across the room to one of the large couches in the living area.

George briefly glanced over his shoulder, catching Techno looking on as his brother was taken away. There was a moment where he looked like he wanted to follow them– but he kept his feet right where they were. 

“Wait…” Wilbur mumbled, “where’s Techno? I wanna say bye...”

“He’s talking to Clay,” said George, as he tried to lay the teen down across the couch. “Nick, will you cooperate?”

“I’m sorry, Jesus!” Nick panicked and dropped him onto the cushions, causing George to nearly fall over with the sudden pull.

“Wait…” Wilbur made grabby-hands towards the other two. “Claybert…? Where is Claybert?” 

George felt his eyebrows shoot up, and Nick let out a bark of laughter.

“Ha! George, when did Wilbur start calling him Claybert?!”

“I’ve never heard him call him that before... Only I call him that,” he responded, tilting his head.

Nick kneeled down by the couch. “What’s the matter, Wilbur? Want me to go get him?”

“Yes… I want a hug from him!” He said, pushing his head into one of the pillows. “He’s my hero!”

‘Techno was right about the clinginess… 

‘Well, it’s certainly the opposite of Wilbur.’ 

George blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“He’s my hero,” he continued rambling off, “he’s my savior– he’s so nice! You’re so nice to me too, George. I thought it was so nice when you fixed my collar yesterday. You’re such a good friend.” His voice cracked, and he turned over to stare at his friends. “And Nick! Don’t even get me started on Nick– he is so funny! Nick, you're so funny, and you’re so handsome!” 

Nick snorted and put his hand up to his ear. “Welp” –he got up from the floor– “do ya hear that sound? I think Clay is calling me. Bye!” 

“Nick, don’t just— Nick!” George called out after him, but he was gone before any protest could be given. 

“Where is Clay?” Wilbur whined. “He gives the best hugs– I want a hug...” 

George scoffed. “You’ve never hugged him.” 

“But I can just tell! He’s so strong and he probably smells so good and—”

“—Okay, and since Clay isn’t here right now, he can’t give you a hug.” He felt his ears burn when the other leveled him with a look. “What?” he asked, crossing his arms.

Wilbur broke into a smarmy grin, accompanied by a few stifled giggles. “You’re so mad...” he teased. 

“I am not!” George huffed out. “You know, you won’t even remember this tomorrow!” He got up to leave, ready to send Clay in his stead.

“No!” Wilbur grabbed onto his wrist, twisting his body to reach the shorter boy. “Don’t go! I don’t want to be alone, please.” His voice quieted, eyes wide and searching George’s face for any sign of disapproval.

He paused, looking down at the teen. “Okay…” He sighed and sat down at the end of the couch. Wilbur brightened, leaning back onto the pillows and looking over to George with a smile.

Clay walked back into the living room, his pearly whites on display for everyone to see. “Guys, Techno asked if I’d been working out– then, he poked my arm! He totally wants me!!” he exclaimed.

Nick followed behind. “It seemed more condescending than anything, Clay.”

Wilbur’s eyes widened. “Clay!” he cheered, making grabby-hands once again, which elicited an eye roll from George.

The blonde shouted, “shut up, Nick!” before walking over to the other brunettes on the couch. “What’s up, Wilbur? How are you feeling?” he said, a smile washing over his features once his attention was off Nick.

“Like… like I want to swim,” he responded.

“That’s typical,” said George. “You know, he’s been requesting a hug from you since Nick and I laid him down.” 

Clay laughed. “Awe, what?! I can’t have both the Watson brothers now, can I?” 

George shook his head. “That’s not even funny…” 

“No, don’t make it weird” –Wilbur rolled away from the other two– “you’re a dog.”

“Yeah, Claybert– you’re a dog!”

Clay gaped for a moment, then he crossed his arms and gave a fake attitude. “Well, fine! I was gonna give you a hug, but now?”

“If you’re gonna creep on me, I don’t want your silly little hug,” the taller boy mumbled out, his face squished into a pillow again. 

Nick– who had disappeared at some point without anyone noticing– came back with a glass of water and a straw. He handed them to Wilbur with his eyebrows raised and said, “Don’t spill this on yourself. We don’t have the means to get you to a body of water right now if you turn into a mermaid.”

“Well, there’s always my pool–“

“Clay, shut the fuck up.” 

Wilbur stretched, letting out a long groan. “Ugh, I love when we’re all sleepy together.” 

Nick blinked. “We’re wide awake…”

“We’re together and I’m sleepy. Is that not enough for you, Nick? You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” he affirmed, reaching over to ruffle Wilbur’s hair. The other turned back, giving an open smile towards him.

“Okay, good– because, sometimes I think everyone hates me,” Wilbur began on a new tangent. “‘Cause my friends back in Brighton– I’m sure they hated me, and Niki is a snake and so she definitely hates me, and I keep thinking you guys are gonna wake up one day and decide to hate me, too! But, I think you guys are so cool– so it’d suck if you hated me...”

“We don’t hate you,” George said, reaching over from his spot on the couch to place an awkward hand on Wilbur’s shin. 

He sniffled, shaking his head. “But you could! My family hates me, and they’ve known me for years!”

“Hey now, Techno doesn’t hate you. He was actually really concerned about you,” Clay reassured. “If he hated you, then he wouldn’t have stepped in to give me advice on how to help you!”

“But– he thinks I’m high!” Wilbur exclaimed, sitting up. “I’m not high! I’m just a mermaid!”

Nick sighed, turning to Clay. “Man, I’m glad your parents decided to go on a last minute vacation. He’s literally yelling about our secret.”

“Yeah, okay– my parents are gone but Drista’s in her room, so please keep it down!” 

Wilbur raised his eyebrows. “What? Your sister is here?” 

“She’s not gonna bug us, but yeah. Come on– I mean, she’s thirteen. It’s not like she was gonna miss school for a trip to Spain.” 

“Oh! My brother is thirteen– he’s a little gremlin, and he hates me.” 

Nick groaned. “Oh my God. Wilbur, your family loves you, now please keep your volume down.”

“Ugh, okay,” he pouted. His eyes drifted down to the glass in his hands, and he lifted it, about to take a sip. But– before he could– Nick grabbed his hands and forced them down, causing Wilbur to simply say, “I’m thirsty.” 

“Use the straw, asshole. If you grow a tail right now, I’ll kill you,” he responded, taking the glass and setting it on the coffee table.

“But... I want to.” 

“You can go swimming tomorrow,” George said, “when you won’t show everyone our secret.” 

“Yeah, but, for now” –Clay moved behind the couch and put his hands on Wilbur’s shoulders– “why don’t you get some rest?” 

Wilbur huffed. “Fine– but could one of you stay with me?”

“I’ll do it,” George said, without hesitation.

‘God, I’m such a desperate hoe.’

Clay and Nick shot each other knowing looks before the blonde stepped away from the couch. “Alright,” he said, holding back a snicker, “we’re going to be upstairs. If you need us, call us!”

Then, the two boys started off and up the stairs, leaving a flustered George and a delirious Wilbur all alone.

George was certain the other was going to sleep with the way he just flopped back down when Clay and Nick left– but before he could entertain that thought any further, Wilbur lazily lolled his head to the side, brown tangles of hair falling over his face.

“So… tell me about yourself,” he said.

George tilted his head. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I wanna know about you.” Wilbur kicked his feet. “You’re my best friend!”

“No” –a flustered chuckle slipped out– “I’m not. You said you had friends back in Brighton, yes? You were just talking about them…”

“Yes, but I also said they hated me.”

“You’re much too hard on yourself, Wilbur. I don’t think there are as many people who hate you as you think there are.”

He sat up, looking right into the other’s eyes. “Well, what makes you think that?! I’m so annoying– and Tommy says I only care about myself!”

“Well, I hardly think you’re annoying. Your company is something I very much enjoy,” George said, heat circulating throughout his face. “It’s something we all enjoy… Clay, Nick, and me. Also, you’ve shown in multiple instances that what Tommy said isn’t true– like when you stuck up for us when Niki was making those slighting remarks.”

Wilbur seemed to only register the latter part of that statement. “Ugh! Then there’s Niki!!” he shouted, flailing his arms about. “I said this earlier, too– but she is such a snake.”

“I agree– she certainly is.”

A sudden hand found itself on George’s shoulder.

“You just get me, George.” 

‘Big hands…

‘Agh! No! Not again! Stop thinking about that! What is WRONG with you?!’

“Yes, I suppose I do…” Deep brown eyes darted away, avoiding eye contact with Wilbur at all costs.

The taller teen paused for a moment, eyeing George up and down. The silence was almost as intense as his stare, the piercing nature of his moon-blinked eyes carrying a million thoughts but conveying none of them; secrets locked behind those lonely, brown pools.

“You know,” Wilbur finally began, “you’re very attractive.”

George nearly jumped out of his seat, his breath hitching. “What?!”

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t know! You have pretty privilege, George.”

“Pretty priv–” –he blinked in disbelief– “what?!”

“Mmm…” Wilbur trailed off, rubbing his eyes. “Can I have a hug?”

‘He HAS to be joking… I’m being put on.

‘But… when he says those things, I–

‘–No.’

“O-Oh, now you want one from me? What ever happened to Claybert?”

“Claybert is all the way upstairs… and I’m tired... and you’re right here…” He held out his arms, the warmth of his smile and comfort of his chest becoming extreme temptations for George as more and more excruciating seconds ticked by.

“I... can’t,” he said. “Or– maybe I… can?”

Wilbur looked at him, confused.

‘Dammit– he’s so cute...’

George scooted into the embrace, and Wilbur wrapped his arms around him delicately. The smell of his cologne wafted through the shorter boy’s senses, and he felt himself melt completely into the hug.

“This is nice…” Wilbur said, inhaling deeply. “And you smell nice, too.”

“Th-thank you… likewise...”

That statement was met with the other teen leaning back against the arm of the couch, pulling George with him. 

“I’m so” –his mouth widened into a yawn– “so… sleepy…”

Once Wilbur’s grip went limp, George squirmed for a moment, adjusting himself in the other’s arms. The thought of breaking free never crossed his mind.

‘I’m tired too.. 

‘But I can’t fall asleep here– not like this!

‘Not while being held by Wilbur…

‘But he’s so… warm...

‘And I’m so… cold...

‘And so… tired...

‘And so…

‘...’

Chapter Text

Wilbur felt three things upon waking up from his slumber; the sun’s warmth on his face, a weight on his chest, and a daze of confusion. He lifted his head, surveying his surroundings. 

‘Where am I…?’

His eyes found their way to the mop of brown hair resting on him, and they immediately shot open when he realized.

‘GEORGE?!’

A fourth feeling began to creep up on him— absolute terror.

‘What the FUCK happened last night?!’

As if the pounding of Wilbur’s heart was enough to wake the sleeping boy, George groaned, tilting his head to look up at him. The same terror seemed to flash across his face, and he shoved himself up, accidentally hitting his head against the other’s.

Wilbur’s instinct reaction was to shout, “Ow!” and rub his head, cringing at the pain– although, it was a welcome distraction from the confusion and guilt he was feeling prior.

“Oh my God,” George said, rubbing the spot where they collided, as well. “I’m so sorry!”

“Wh-Whoa! I-It’s fine, um, it’s not your fault!” Wilbur said.

“No! Not just that! It wasn’t my intention to” –he gestured to the position they were in before– “you know? Again– I’m sorry!”  

Wilbur felt his ears go warm. “It’s okay, it’s okay!” He lowered his hand and shook his head. “Um– I’m just confused! Where are we, exactly?”

George’s eyes went wide. “Oh, we’re at Clay’s house… the full moon was last night, remember?”

“No, I don’t… the last thing I remember was my dad opening the blinds… and everything from then on is fuzzy.”

“Right!” He flushed red, glancing away from Wilbur altogether. “Well– of course you don’t remember...” 

After a painful silence, the shorter boy shook his head before abruptly getting up and walking off into a different room wordlessly.

Wilbur raised his eyebrows, thinking to himself, ‘...What the fuck?’  

“Jesus, that was sad,” said Nick, his sudden voice causing the other to jump. 

“Fucking hell, Nick!” Wilbur shouted, looking around frantically. “Where did you come from?!” After a second, he finally found him buried under a pile of blankets on the floor. 

Nick’s hand stuck out to wave him off. “Dude, shut up. It’s like, ten in the morning...” 

“What?!” Wilbur paused before something else caught his attention. “How many blankets do you even have?!” he said, gesturing to the teen in disbelief. 

The blankets shifted and Nick mumbled, “I dunno. Now– quiet, please.” 

“No! Nick, what the hell happened last night?!” 

“Jesus Christ, if I tell you will you let me go back to sleep?” 

“Yes!”

“Ugh, okay.” Nick sat up, rubbing his eyes and stretching himself out. “So basically– the full moon hit, then Techno called and was all like, ‘Oh my Gawddd Wilbur is sewww hiiiggghhhh’ and then Clay was all, ‘Durrr hiii Techno let’s all get naked’ then me and George were like, ‘I’m about to jump off a bridge’.

“So then, you came over and you were all fuckin’ weird and out of it, and George volunteered to take care of you like a nurse during the black plague, then when me and Clay came back downstairs he was all up on you” –he made a crude gesture with his hands– “so we just went to bed.”

A million thoughts raced through Wilbur’s head, but only one was able to leave his mouth.

“Oh my God,” he said, “my dad is going to kill me.” He unfolded his legs and hurriedly pushed himself off the couch, ready to scramble out the door in bare feet. 

“Chill, dude. What happened to you knowing how to handle the full moon?” 

Wilbur buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know, I– I think it’s just such a different environment– and since I’m a completely different person under the full moon—” 

“—Your full-moon-self was like, all lost, which is probably what made you tweak out,” Nick finished. “Yeah, that makes sense. But I’m glad Techno was able to get you here, imagine if he didn’t.” With a huff, he pushed the blankets aside and stood up, scratching at the scruff on his face. “Well, I can’t go back to sleep now– so I’m gonna see if Clay’s made breakfast yet. Wanna come?”

Wilbur was unable to do anything else but nod, and follow Nick.

Clay danced around as he cooked. The smell of eggs covered the kitchen like a blanket, and upbeat music rang out from a bluetooth speaker by the stove. Wilbur saw two other people, as well, sitting at the bar counter. George, and a blonde girl who he couldn’t make out from only the back of her head. He hesitantly stepped further into the room, behind Nick, and the two were greeted loudly by their friend.

“Oh, good you two are awake!” Clay yelled over the music, gesturing vaguely to the stools where the others were sitting. “Do you like soft-scrambled eggs?”

“I’ve never had them, I don’t think,” Wilbur said, raising his voice to be heard.

“Well, then sit down! I’m about to blow your mind with these eggs!”

Wilbur just raised his eyebrows before sitting beside George, who gave him a polite smile that seemed a bit forced. 

‘Why does he seem so embarrassed…?

‘Was last night really as vulgar as Nick made it out to be?

‘No, that can’t be true. He was exaggerating the whole time– plus George and I were both fully clothed when I woke up, so there’s no way it was THAT raunchy. 

‘Also, George would never. Not while I’m under the influence of the full moon...

‘... I should probably stop thinking about this.’

The blonde girl sitting on George’s other side did Wilbur a favor by cutting off his train of thought. “Hello. You must be Wilbur,” she said, with a smile. “I’m Drista.” She stuck her hand out to shake Wilbur’s, forcing George to lean back as she reached over him.

Now that he could see her face, he could tell she was noticeably younger than the rest of them. “Oh, are you Clay’s sister?” he asked, taking her hand– her grip was surprisingly firm.

“Yes. What’s your favorite city?”

Wilbur blinked, the music now becoming slightly overstimulating. “My… favorite city?”

Clay chimed in, “She has a geography hyperfix! If you tell her your favorite city, country or whatever, she’ll tell you all about it!”

“Uh, okay,” Wilbur said, slowly, “Brighton, I guess.”

Drista nodded and pulled her hand away, swiftly. “Well, did you know that Brighton is actually considered to be the second most haunted city in all of Britain. Well– after York, obviously.” 

“I did.” 

“Dris, he’s literally from Brighton,” Nick said, taking a seat by the girl.

She side-eyed Nick and said, “Irrelevant. I’m sure there’s something he doesn’t know.”

Wilbur huffed out an amused laugh, turning his attention down at his folded hands as he tried to tune out the blaring music. The others in the room began to chatter amongst themselves, only worsening the overstimulation he felt.

He could feel the seams of his clothing rub against his skin, feelings of hopeless agony enveloping him the longer he sat still. He began to bounce his leg, and run his thumb over his knuckles in an attempt to distract from the textures encasing him. 

Feeling something bump his knee, he turned towards it and was met by George's honey brown eyes staring at him with concern. The other boy tilted his head, motioning subtly to the bluetooth speaker. Wilbur blinked rapidly, meeting George’s gaze with one of confusion. 

The shorter boy sighed, and said, “The music is sort of loud, huh?” 

Wilbur nodded, beads of sweat beginning to accumulate along his brow.

George raised his hand to catch Clay’s attention. “Can I see the speaker please?” he asked, fighting to be heard over all the noise.

The blonde hummed in question, but grabbed the speaker and handed it over to him. “Sure! Just don’t break it.” 

“Dammit, how did you know what I was about to do?” George joked, before pressing the mute button.

Wilbur felt like he could finally breathe, his bouncing leg slowly stopping.

“Nooo, I just bought that!” Clay whined.

George scoffed. “Did you also just buy that ‘Eat Big, Dream Bigger’ apron, or is that your mum’s?” he quipped, tilting his head condescendingly. 

“So what if it is?!” 

Drista cut in, “It isn’t. It’s his.” She snagged the speaker and began to fiddle with it. “You know, I don’t see the benefit of playing your music at such a vexatious volume. Is it really that hard to keep to yourself, Clay?”

“It’s for the vibe!” he said, pointing at his sister assertively. “It makes the energy in the room all lively, and fun!”

She looked at him through her eyebrows. “So, since it definitely doesn’t…” 

Clay let out an offended gasp. “Well— you know, if you would have just said something, I would’ve turned it down!” 

“So, since you definitely wouldn’t have…” she drawled.

“Hey— If you want breakfast, you’re going to have to be nice to me.” 

Drista blinked. “I’d rather be famished,” she said, which caused everyone but Clay to burst into laughter.

“Hey!” The blonde pouted, slumping his shoulders in defeat.

It was then, when a slight pitter-patter could be heard drumming on the scenery outside.

‘Rain…’

“Wait—” Clay hurried to the nearest window, shock manifesting on his face at what he was seeing. “No no no no no!! It’s raining!!” 

“Yes, Claybert. How astute of you,” George said. 

“Shut up, George!! How are we gonna get to school?!” He ran his hands through his hair, pacing back to the others.

Drista tapped her chin, confused. “What does rain have to do with getting to school?”

Clay froze, then glanced over to the stove, desperate to change the subject. 

“Oh, look at that!” he said. “The food is ready! Drista, do you want to pass out the plates?”

She squinted at her brother. “No. I want to go to school.”

Nick tried to intervene, “Since when? You wouldn’t mind missing one day, would you?”

“I wouldn’t mind. But– since it seems like a hindrance to Clay– I’m attempting to create chaos,” said Drista, as a smile began to spread on her face.

Nick sighed. “Can she just take the bus?”

Clay’s nose scrunched up in disgust.“Ew, no!” He began passing out the plates, and he gave everyone a serving of soft-scrambled eggs and bacon jam on sourdough toast. “Now, just eat! Before it gets cold,” he said, sitting down with the others.

George nodded. “Thank you, Clay, and” –he tilted his head– “what do you mean, ‘ew?’” He took a bite of the breakfast, his eyes widening at its surprising decadence.

“Rich people don’t take the bus, George,” said Nick. He took a bite as well, the same shocked reaction forming on his face. “Clay– this is really fucking good.”

“Oh, really?” The blonde smiled proudly. “Thanks, Nick! Do the rest of you think it’s that good?”

Wilbur and Drista tasted the food, and nodded enthusiastically to answer Clay.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” Wilbur said. “Maybe my dad should open the blinds more during full moons!”

“Aw, thanks Wilbur– I think,” Clay replied. “But, is he going to be okay with you missing school?” He gestured to the window, which made visible the now heavy rainfall.

Wilbur was about to take another bite, but froze. “Fucking hell, he’s really gonna kill me now.”

The blonde crossed his arms. “It’s not like we can do anything about it, it's raining cats and dogs out there.”

“Surely he’ll understand,” George said, “and if he doesn’t, you can simply say you got food poisoning this morning.” 

“George! That’s so mean!” Clay exclaimed, his mouth full. “Do you hate my cooking?”

“No. Stop being such a crybaby, Claybert.” He rolled his eyes, elbowing the other.

Drista walked over to the sink suddenly, having finished her food without anyone noticing. “I still don’t understand what the rain has to do with you all being absent from school. But, did you know that in Honduras, mysterious fish have been known to rain down from the sky? This whole ordeal reminded me of that.” She gave a familiar-looking thumbs up.

Clay looked around, waiting for anyone else to answer. “Um, no… I didn’t know that.”

“Well, people think it's from water spouts, but maybe it’s something else.”

“Something like magic?” Nick teased, causing the other three boys to glare at him. 

“Magic isn’t real,” Drista said, “but, great guess.” She started out of the kitchen, muttering a barely audible, “Not.” 

The boys burst into giggles at Nick’s shocked face, the tension leaving the air. 

“I was joking…”  Nick said, his mouth pressing into a thin line.

George nodded mockingly. “Well we knew that.”

“Drista and Tommy would get along well, I reckon,” Wilbur said, a smile tinting his words. “But– I should probably go home soon so my dad doesn’t flip out.”

“Maybe they would!” Clay beamed. “Okay, so it’ll probably rain for a few hours, then once it lets up we’ll just hurry to the car so we can take you home, okay?” 

“Sure, I guess,” he mumbled, the pattering of raindrops growing more fierce as the rain continued.

When the rain finally let up, the teens were granted a nice reprieve from the indoors. They pulled their shoes on, grabbed their things, and put on gloves to brace themselves for the outside.

The drive to Wilbur’s place was mostly wordless, as George had put on his car playlist and wanted to listen in peace. There were a few times when Clay or Nick tried to initiate a conversation, but they were ignored by the boy. 

They pulled up to the curb, and Wilbur unbuckled his seatbelt. “Come in with me? My dad is probably still at work,” he said.

His friends nodded and followed behind him into the house.

“Oh, great,” Tommy said from the top of the stairs, his eyes fixated on Clay. “Nobody’s favorite boy toy makes a surprise reappearance...” 

Before Clay could even react, Wilbur shot back, “Toms, what the hell?” 

“Fuck off, I wasn’t talking to you, weasel!” 

Techno’s voice was audible from upstairs. “Oh my God, why so loud?! Attention whores— all of you!” he shouted. Heavy footsteps followed his words and he came downstairs, his eyes narrowed and a scowl on his face. 

“You’re boyfriend’s here!” Tommy said, skipping down the last of the steps and beelining towards the group. 

Clay waved, slightly flustered. His eyes were locked on the senior at the top of the steps. “Hi,” he managed.

Techno blinked his glare away from Wilbur, his features softening slightly. “Hi,” he huffed out, approaching the group as well.

Wilbur rolled his eyes and toed off his shoes. He tried to move past Techno, but stumbled slightly when his bicep was grabbed by his brother, which stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Nuh uh, girl.” Techno shook his head, leveling him with a glare once again. “Don’t think you’re not in deep shit. The minute your little breakfast club leaves, we are going to have a serious talk.” He let go of his brother, before turning to address Clay. “Hey” –he looked off to the side– “uh, thanks for taking Wil home– and for taking care of him last night. That… means a lot to me.” 

“It’s no problem, really!” The blonde took a step forward, laughing nervously. “I’m glad you called!” He took another step closer and reached out his hand, his fingertips brushing against Techno’s. 

“Ew!” Tommy’s voice sliced through the tension, causing Clay to jerk back. “That’s fucking disgusting!”

Techno’s face matched his pink hair in color. “Scram, you little freak!” he said, shooing the youngest away. 

Phil called out from the kitchen, “Boys!” 

The man entered the room, his eyes meeting Wilbur’s right away. The teen took a step back and held his head high, refusing to look away from his father’s piercing blue eyes. Eventually, Phil faltered, stopping before his son.

He glanced around, taking in the rest of the group. Then, a polite smile crossed his face, and he took a deep breath.

“Hello! You all must be Wil’s friends,” said Phil. “I would’ve made extra food had I known you were all coming! But no matter, why don’t you all stay for a late lunch?”

“Lunch?! Oh, epic!” Tommy cheered, racing towards the kitchen. 

“Oh– uh, it’s great to meet you, Wilbur's dad,” Nick said, looking down at his phone. “But as great as that sounds, I should probably head home— my dads are blowing up the family group chat.” 

“Ah! That’s too bad.” Phil tutted, then placed a hand on Techno’s shoulder. “Well, see Techno? It’s normal for families to have a group text together!” 

The eldest teen glowered at Nick. “Since when was someone who listens to Eminem normal?” he grumbled. 

Nick looked up from his phone, irritated. “Why are you so hung up on my music taste?” 

“Oh please, you must be Ellen— since calling that shit ‘taste’ is way too generous.”

Clay interrupted the spat by jangling his keys obnoxiously. “Well— I guess that’s also my cue!” he said, smiling apologetically. “I’m really sorry we can’t stay, Mr. Watson, but duty calls! Thank you for the offer, though!”

“Yeah… maybe some other time!” Nick said.

Techno scoffed. “Yeah, or maybe never.” 

“Hey, Techno— I’ll text you?” Clay said, starting towards the door. 

The teen in question immediately blushed, visibly disarmed. “Yeah, sure, whatever,” he said, his eyes flicking over to Phil and Wilbur. “I’m going to my room. Don’t bother me for the next five hours. Wilbur— we’ll talk tomorrow.” With that, Techno turned on his heel and walked up the steps, turning back once he was at the top to sneak a final, discreet look at Clay.

“Bye!” Clay smiled brightly, then turned to Nick. “So, where's George?” 

Wilbur looked around. Now that Clay brought it up, he noticed that George wasn’t with them anymore. “Uhm, I can find him...”

“I can drive him home if you two are in a rush,” Phil said, the polite smile refusing to budge. 

Clay glanced at Nick for input, and he grimaced, nodding his head. “Yeah, uh, my parents… they’re being pushy— sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Phil said, chuckling lightly, “really. I don’t mind.”

“Okay, then!” Clay ran forward, lifting Wilbur in a surprise hug. “Bye Wilbur!” He set him down, and began walking to the door. “And thank you again, Mr. Watson!” 

Nick hollered over his shoulder as the two of them exited, “Yeah. Thanks, Wilbur’s dad!”

The second the door closed, Wilbur escaped into the living room to avoid any questions his father had. He glanced behind him to ensure he was unseen, and froze when he turned back and saw George standing by the mantle, looking down at some picture frames.

‘What…? Why is he here, of all places?’ Wilbur thought.

He hesitantly stepped closer, and warning sirens rang through his head.

‘It’s a bad time.

‘You’re bothering him.

‘Don’t be annoying.’

Curiosity seized him, however, and he ultimately discarded his worries. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Wilbur asked, walking over to George’s side. “You scared everyone with how you disappeared. How’d you do that?”

The boy didn’t answer, a pensive expression plastered on his face as he stared at the photo. 

Wilbur nudged him softly. “George?” 

Still no answer. It was then, when Wilbur began silently cursing himself for ignoring the warnings.

He tried again. “George,” he said, “are you alright?” 

“Is this you?” George said, finally. His gaze on the picture did not falter whatsoever.

Wilbur raised his eyebrows and stepped closer to the other’s side to peer down at it.

It was a photo of Wilbur at age 6, squished between his father and his mother. He recognized it as one from their first road trip as a family. They were smiling widely, mid-laugh as little Wilbur was showing off the small gap in his teeth. The memory began to swallow him whole; he felt a smile tug at his lips as he recalled how— when the picture was taken— he was trying with all his might not to laugh, but his father had told a joke which rendered all his efforts in vain. Phil didn’t joke like that anymore. Wilbur didn’t laugh like that anymore.

His eyes drifted to his late mother’s face, his features softening as he stared into her two-dimensional eyes. The way they shone was another thing that faded, along with Phil’s sense of humor and Wilbur’s joy. This picture would be the last remaining evidence of the shine her eyes carried; the sparkling of those soft, muddy orbs being lost to time. Wilbur hated himself for inheriting her eyes— he felt unworthy to have them.

Wilbur swallowed. “It is me, yes,” he managed.

George smiled softly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You were so… small.” 

“Yeah” —he chuckled— “I was six.” 

“Was this when you lived in London?” The shorter boy finally looked away, up at Wilbur.

“Uh, yeah, how’d you know?”

“You told me that you used to live in London, like, the day we met— remember? But, when did you move to Brighton? I don’t think you ever said...”

“Oh yeah, I forgot.” Wilbur scratched at something on his arm. “And uhm, when I was… nine or ten, I think. It was a year after we adopted Techno.”

“That’s crazy,” George said. “Do you think there’s a chance we may have passed each other? I mean, we’re around the same age, and we both lived in London at the same time...”

“Oh?” Wilbur raised his eyebrows.

The other boy laughed softly. “No— that’s stupid. I doubt we would have ever passed each other in London. That city is massive.” 

“I don’t think it’s stupid, it’s completely probable...” Wilbur shrugged.

“Right, then.” George rolled his eyes playfully, then looked back at the picture. “So, that’s you. And obviously, that's your dad, so is this your mum?” 

“Yeah. She, uhm, passed when I was eight.” The taller teen looked away from the photo, feeling his chest constrict as words just kept tumbling out. “She took her own life. I didn’t really find out what actually happened until a little later, but I knew she was gone when— one day— I came home from school and she wasn’t there.” He crossed his arms, guarding his heart. “It was weird— it was some strange intuition. Like, when you just know something is wrong.”

Suddenly, Wilbur felt something press itself against him. It was George— he had wrapped his arms around the other in a comforting embrace. 

“I… had no idea,” said George. His words were careful, as if Wilbur were made of glass. “I’m very sorry…”

Wilbur was frozen, his mind reeling at the abrupt sign of affection. He let out a sigh, and unfolded his arms to hug the shorter boy back, resting his chin on his head.

“It’s okay, there’s no way you could have known,” Wilbur mumbled. “But hey— if I ever go to your house— you have to show me your family pictures, alright? It’s only fair.” He smiled down at the other, trying to lighten the mood.

George pulled away, looking up in confusion. “I don’t have any.”

“What do you mean, you don’t have any? Didn’t your parents take a photo when you got off the plane, or something like that?” 

“Um, no. They dropped me off at our new apartment with a nanny and got on a different plane.” He glanced down at the floor. “My parents never took pictures of me.” 

“Oh, sorry…” A frown pulled at Wilbur’s face. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

“There isn’t anything to talk about. We just… aren’t that kind of family,” George said, drifting over to a different photo. “Um, is this Techno?” 

Wilbur went along with the topic change, paying respect to George's boundaries. “Yeah. That was the day his adoption papers finally went through— it was a fight with the court.” He began to grin against his will. “They thought Phil wasn’t fit to adopt, despite having fostered Techno for about a year up to that point.” 

“His hair used to be all… brown.” 

“Well yeah, he’s not a natural pinkette.” 

“Pinkette?” George tilted his head. “That’s not a word.”

“It’s not,” Wilbur confirmed, nodding.

A smile spread across George’s face. “You are so… weird,” he said, his deep, brown eyes meeting the taller teen’s.

Wilbur wasn’t able to do anything but stare, and— not for the first time— he found himself admiring George. The freckles that dotted his face like stars, the way his messy hair swooped across his forehead, his bright smile, it was all so…

‘Perfect…’

Phil had purposefully sat them both in the backseat. Wilbur recognized the twinkle of mischief in his father’s eyes and hated that he couldn’t even say anything about it. 

“George, was it? How long have you been in the states?” Phil asked, glancing at the two teens in his rearview mirror.

“About six years— or since I was ten.” George answered, his eyes locked on his hands in his lap. 

“Oh, that’s great! How was the move? I know our transition here hasn’t been the easiest.” It was a lighthearted comment, but Wilbur still grumbled under his breath. 

“It was fine, I suppose. I think the hardest part was understanding everybody’s accents.” George replied, laughing quietly. “Oh, left here.”

Phil nodded, turning at the boy’s directions. He pulled into the driveway, parking in front of the garage.

“Thank you for driving me home, Mr. Watson,” George said, opening the door. 

“Of course. Thank you for coming over. It was nice to finally meet Wil’s friends.” 

George placed a tender hand on Wilbur’s. “Bye.” He smiled, and left the car.

Wilbur’s face warmed as he watched George walk to his door. He opened it, turning and waving one last time before stepping in.

“So… this George character, huh?” Phil inquired, causing Wilbur to groan as his face warmed even more. 

“Dad...” he grumbled, sinking into his seat, “stop. You’re not funny.”

Phil chuckled softly, putting the car into drive and heading out of the neighborhood. “I’m happy you’re making better friends, son. I was never too fond of those Brighton boys.” 

“I...guess, yeah,” Wilbur said, staring out the window. “I’m glad you like them.” 

Chapter Text

Techno’s voice caused Wilbur to look up from the clothing rack. “Wil, thoughts?” he asked while he held a shirt to his frame, looking for some kind of approval from his brother. Off the other’s shrug, the eldest rolled his eyes. “You’re like, zero help.”

Wilbur laughed, resuming his sifting through the clothes in front of him. “Sorry, king— I mean, what do you even want me to say?”

“Um, I don’t know, your opinion, maybe?” 

“Remind me why my opinion should matter to you? You have a better fashion sense than me.”

Techno scoffed. “Your opinion doesn’t matter, cretin. But you know what I wear— so like, do you think this would go with anything?” He began to walk over to his brother. 

Wilbur glanced over, trying to picture the shirt with a normal outfit Techno would wear. “I think so, yeah. Probably.” He nodded his head. “Uhm— is it... breathable?”

He felt the fabric between his fingers. “I… guess?”

“And is the texture good?” 

“Ugh, sure, whatev.” Techno rolled his eyes and placed the shirt into the cart they shared.

The brothers continued to browse the aisles, commenting on items the other would pick up every so often, and joking about the weird clothes they came across. Eventually they made it across the store to the furniture, browsing through some of the smaller knick-knack items before Techno cleared his throat to get Wilbur’s attention.

“Kiki time, bitch,” Techno said, turning to face Wilbur. “You got high the other night— spill. And when I say ‘spill’, I mean spill your guts all over my fucking shoes, you greasy-haired heathen. I want no stone unturned— not a single detail spared. What reason could you possibly have for your sickeningly gaudy behavior that night?!” He crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow. “You got high, Wilbur. That white trash shit is so not on the level. I presumed you to be above it, but I guess that was on me.”

Completely stunned at his brother’s harsh rhetoric, Wilbur could only mutter, “...What?” 

“Hello? Do not play dumb with me.” Techno started closer to his brother, causing him to take a step back. “You were greened out— or cracked out— or whatever, and you made me drive you to Clay’s house.”

“I wasn’t—”

“—That’s bull!” Techno snapped. “I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like I’m not mad that you smoked— but what makes me so incredibly livid, is the fact that you couldn’t even be bothered to hide it! Just unabashedly zooted out of your damn mind— and you had the nerve to ask me to drive you to CLAY’S?!”

Wilbur bit his lip. “...I wasn’t high.” 

“The hell you say, Wilbur?”

 He flipped over the small globe he was holding. “I wasn’t high!”

Techno narrowed his eyes. “The hell you say—”

“—No! Look, I don’t know what happened! One second, dad opened the blinds, and the next, I woke up at Clay’s!”

“...So then, what the fuck?” 

The brunette avoided eye contact, his fingers trailing on the shelves. “I-I don’t know! Everything got hazy and it felt like I was watching myself in third person...”

The silence that followed caused Wilbur to look up at his brother, noticing the shock that had settled on his face. 

“Wilbur… that’s dissociation...” Techno said slowly, letting his arms fall from their defensive position.

“No” —he shook his head— “no, it’s not that— it’s not!”

“Wil, did you not notice yourself walking out the door in a daze?!” Techno furrowed his eyebrows and looked away from his brother. “You didn’t even grab your shoes— I practically had to corral you to my car! It was—” He grunted, balling up his fists. “I’ve never seen you like that!”

Wilbur sighed, slumping his shoulders. He could tell that Techno was uncomfortable talking about this. “Look, pinky— I’m sorry—”

“—Do not call me that right now! Ugh!” He turned away and huffed. “You know— the fact that you wanted to see Clay of all people… it was really sketch.” His voice suddenly became soft, wavering for only a moment. “Look, I like Clay and everything, but since when do you and I keep secrets from each other?!”

Wilbur’s heart panged— Techno was right. Shortly after Techno was adopted, he opened up to his younger brother before he opened up to their father , and from then on the boys were always seen together. Of course— as they got older— they were able to branch off from each other, but the brothers always found themselves back where they started every time things got rough. Techno broke through Wilbur’s defenses, and Wilbur supported Techno’s words and feelings. 

Though Wilbur kept his tail a secret from the eldest, it was never out of malice. He wanted more than anything to tell Techno; he couldn’t stand having to avoid him whenever he was around water or at the beach. But, Wilbur didn’t even know how his brother would react to it, and he didn’t want to entertain the thought of it being a negative response.

“I… I’m not trying to keep anything from you,” Wilbur lied, stepping closer to the other. Techno’s eyes flicked over to him, predicting his next movement. “I don’t know what happened that night. But, I’m sorry— I really am.” 

Techno shook his head. “Wil— if something is wrong, you’ve gotta let me help. Please.”

Wilbur placed a comforting hand on his brother’s right shoulder, and rested his chin on the left. Techno stiffened, shocked by the contact, and he reached his hand over to rest awkwardly on top of Wilbur’s.

The brunette sniffed. “Okay. When something is wrong, I promise I’ll tell you.”

“Okay,” Techno responded, pulling away when he realized how vulnerable he was being— in public no less. “I mean… work. Now hands off, bitch. Stop being clingy.” A smirk teased at his face.

Wilbur laughed and grabbed their cart, trailing behind him. “Okay, but” –he sped up to walk beside him eagerly— “can we get boba after we pay?”

Techno rolled his eyes. “Please, Wilbur. At least try not to be so Internet Explorer. As if we weren’t gonna get boba. Anything to be away from home, I’m desperate to breathe– trapped in that fucking blonde bubble.” 

As soon as the brothers entered the door, Wilbur called out, “I’m going out!” his eyes fixated on his phone. 

Techno raised an eyebrow, sipping at his drink. But when he opened his mouth to speak, their father cut him off.

“Wilbur— where are you going?” Phil said, turning the corner from the kitchen.

“Uh… the beach,” Wilbur replied. “With friends. Uhm, you met them a couple days ago…” 

Techno gave him a look, asking a silent question that Wilbur was scared to decipher. 

“Oh, do you need a ride?” His father asked, moving to stand next to the eldest. 

“I can walk, it’s only a couple blocks from here.”

Techno scrunched up his face. “I’m going to my room,” he said, suddenly, before turning on his heel and stomping up the stairs. Wilbur could only look around in confusion at what just happened.

“I’ll talk to him.” Phil shook his head. “And um… speaking of talking…” 

‘Oh my God, he better not bring up what it seems like he’s about to bring up.’

Wilbur huffed. “What is it, dad?”

The man sighed, visibly trying to find the best way to phrase his next words. “I’ve… I’ve given you a lot of time, Wilbur. And if you think you need more, then just tell me and I’ll give it to you. But— at the same time— I cannot keep living like this, son.” He exhaled slowly. “I’m not the biggest fan of the tension between us, and I’d like for it to be resolved— for it to be fixed. Do you want that?”

Wilbur scratched at something on his hand, an adequate response eluding him. “Uhm,” he said, finally, “I guess… yes. B-but I don’t know if I’m ready…”

‘Or if I’ll EVER be…’ his thoughts chimed in. ‘Nothing will come of it, what’s even the point?’

“Okay, please let me know whenever you decide. I’m ready any time,” Phil said, placing a gentle hand on his son’s shoulder.

The brunette looked away, a concoction of annoyance and pity mixing itself up in his stomach. “Sure, I… will.”

Phil smiled softly. “Okay, you may go now. Be careful— don’t go too deep in the water.” 

Wilbur shrugged his dad’s hand off, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. See you tonight.”

“You’re here!” George called out, which silenced the conversation happening around him. 

The boy got up from the picnic blanket, bounding over to Wilbur and throwing his arms around him for a moment. He led him back to the group by the wrist, beaming the whole time.

Wilbur’s face heated up. ‘His hands are so small…’ he thought.

“Glad you could make it!” Clay said while digging through a bag. He triumphantly pulled out a bottle of sunscreen. “Wait! Before you even say anything— put this on!” The bottle was tossed to Wilbur, who fumbled before catching it.

“Claybert,” George began, his head tilting as sure as day, “don’t be willfully obtuse. Wilbur doesn’t need that.”

“Willfully… what? I’m confused,” said Clay, mimicking the other’s movement. “Why doesn’t he need it? We all do!”

“No, we don’t. Have you already forgotten what we’ve planned?”

“...Yes…”

George reached over and flicked him. “Dunce.”

“Ow! Hey!”

“‘Scuse me, sorry to barge in, but can you two please choke on gravel?” Nick grumbled, pushing himself up from the sand. “Wilbur— we wanted you to come today because we’re gonna show you the Moon Pool.”

Wilbur stammered. “W-wait, right now?”  

“Nick! I wanted to tell him!” George said, putting his hands on his hips.

“Well then that sucks, doesn’t it?” Nick replied, a sardonic grin spreading across his face. “Chill out, he’s already been there.”

“What?!” George and Clay both exclaimed in unison, eliciting raised eyebrows from both Nick and Wilbur.

“...I have?” Wilbur asked.

“Uh, yeah. That’s where I took you when we first found out about each other,” Nick said, lying back down. “Remember?”

“Yeah, I d—”

“—How could you?!” George yelled, swatting Nick’s shoulder.

He flinched away, his eyes narrowing. “Where else could I have taken him?” 

“Well, you could’ve come back and told us from the start!” Clay said. 

Wilbur felt his ears go warm from mild embarrassment, but he just shook his head. “I didn’t trust you guys yet, I’m sure Nick knew that.” 

“Bingo,” Nick said, tilting his head to squint up at Wilbur. “I don’t know why I’m the demon all of the sudden!”

“Because that spot is sacred!” George whined, “I didn’t want to miss Wilbur’s first time seeing it!” 

“George, if it’s any consolation, I don’t really remember it. I was… more concerned with other things.” Wilbur shrugged. 

George sighed, pouting. “You still saw it. It ruins the whole surprise.”

“Well, you could still surprise me.” Wilbur rubbed his shoulder. “I didn’t see it, actually. It was kind of dark…”

George looked at him, the worry on his face dissolving at the offer. “Well… then, I suppose that’s fine! Let’s go!”

“Let’s wait for Eret, then we can go,” Clay said, tugging off his shirt. He rubbed sunscreen on his hard body before putting the bottle back in the bag. “And if none of you guys are going to put on sunscreen— George, Wilbur— then I guess I’ll be the only one walking out of here burn-free!”

Nick yawned. “We’re all going to be burn-free, idiot. We’re going in the water.”

Clay glared. “So?!”

Suddenly, a small fishing boat zoomed by, the engine cutting as it neared the group. Wilbur squinted at the source of the noise; he could barely make out the tall, slim silhouette that belonged to Eret until they hopped out of the boat and tugged it up onto the shore, anchoring it.

“There she is!” George exclaimed, waving them down. 

“Finally.” Nick pushed himself up onto his feet, arching back to stretch out his joints, groaning. “Ugh, I feel cooked.” 

“Aha!” Clay pointed a ‘gotcha!’ finger at Nick. “Now— tell me— would you feel this way if you put on sunscreen?” 

Nick twisted to squabble with the blonde, and Wilbur tuned into the conversation Eret and George began to have. 

“Can you believe Nick?!” George said. “That was meant in jest— I really don’t care.”

Eret laughed their signature, goofy laugh. “It’s good to see you, George.” They smiled, greeting the teen in a half hug, glancing over to Wilbur to give him a polite smile. 

He looked around, slightly shy. “Hi, Eret. You’re coming?”

They pulled away from George to greet Wilbur with a fist bump. “Yep! Hey, Wilbur! You alright?” 

Automatically, Wilbur responded with, “Yeah, great, thanks. You?” 

“You’re sure? I meant that genuinely…” Eret clarified, grinning.

Wilbur huffed out a laugh. “Uhm, right. You know, things could be better, actually. But I feel fine now that I’m here with you lot.”

Nick cut in, looking between the three confusedly, “Was that like a…” 

“A British thing? Indeed!” George responded.

Clay interjected as well, rocking on his heels, “Guys, can we go? I want to swim sooo bad… Plus, people are staring at me now! I feel objectified…”

“Oh, shut up. You love being objectified,” Nick said.

“...True, but let’s go!”

“Yes, yes, c’mon!” George said, grabbing Clay’s arm and pulling him over to the water. Nick trailed behind, laughing as George turned on the blonde to shove him into the waves.

Clay stumbled for a moment before kicking up water to hit George as well, which made him shriek in laughter. Then, the two continued into the ocean, diving into it with playful competitiveness. 

Nick followed closely after, disappearing into the water as well.

Wilbur dug his feet into the sand; a ball of nerves had settled itself in his stomach as he watched the waves crash into the shore. 

“I’ll meet you guys at the island,” Eret said, walking to their boat and pushing it back into the ocean. 

Wilbur nodded, sparing a glance over to Eret, then back at the view in front of him. He sucked in a breath, holding it for a moment before puffing out. He had never swam with anybody before, and— naturally— he had a plethora of doubts and worries.

‘What if the way I’ve been swimming this whole time is wrong?

‘Who would have even told me? It’s not like anyone else knows.’

He shook his head. ‘That’s it. They’re offering to integrate me into the group— it’d be stupid to say no, George would be so upset…

‘I need to do this.’

He nodded to himself, cementing his decision into place. Then, he started off to the shore. The sensation of the cold tide ran over his feet, causing him to quicken his pace, and he broke out into a jog. Once he was deep enough, he threw his arms forward and dove in— once again— to the deep, blue underworld.

He stalled for a moment, waiting for his scales to form over his legs before pushing forwards. He angled himself to swim lower, seeing bright corals come into view. He grinned to himself, pushing down deeper and perching on a rock while looking for the others.

Upon seeing a flash of green, Wilbur jerked his head to the left to see the movement. He drifted a few feet over, his golden tail flicking just enough to keep him afloat. When he slowly turned his head back, he was met with Nick right in front of him, similar to their first ocean encounter. But now— instead of complete shock— Wilbur let out a laugh, a flurry of bubbles escaping him. 

Nick smiled, shaking his head in a silent laugh. He pointed above him, directing Wilbur’s attention upwards. What he saw was Clay’s face blocking out the sunlight that shone down onto the reef; his blonde hair flowed around him like a halo, and his smile shone brilliantly under the crystal waters. He waved, continuing to leisurely swim above the other two. 

Wilbur noticed the iridescent scales, which shifted from bright greens to dark purples and blues that blended in with the sea. He also noted how Clay’s multichromatic tail, well-defined body, and golden hair made him resemble an ocean god.

‘But where’s George…?’ he thought.

Clay swam lower, circling behind Nick to swim up next to him. He mouthed, ‘Your tail!’ while pointing at the yellow and orange hues that ran down Wilbur’s body. Wilbur glanced behind him to see for himself before turning back, mouthing his thanks to the compliment. 

Clay nodded enthusiastically, before his eyes darted to something to the side of Wilbur. He tilted his head to see what Clay was looking at, and his eyes widened when he caught a glimmer of blue. He twisted his body to get a better look.

Still unable to see what the brief, blue shimmer was, he glanced back at Nick and Clay in a silent question, but the blonde just waved him forward.

Wilbur turned back, catching another glimpse of blue behind an underwater arch. He advanced forwards, swimming through— but still not seeing anything. He pushed his hands in front of him to halt his movement and looked around. 

When he caught deep, honey brown eyes staring into his own, relief washed over him and a grin settled back over his face. He saw George stare down at him, his eyes squinted in silent laughter. The shorter brunette pushed himself down so he was level with Wilbur and tilted his head, then he shifted himself to circle the other’s tail. George’s eyes drifted down to the end of the fin before looking back up at Wilbur, a red hue hiding behind his freckles.

Wilbur huffed a few bubbles out his nose, rolling his eyes, but still smiling brightly. George’s eyes trailed down his tail again, the boy visibly marveling at its color. Wilbur felt his ears go warm as he watched the awe manifest and linger on the other’s face. 

Everything stood completely still.

Wilbur was overwhelmed. George was looking at him like he was the only person that mattered. He refused to believe it, but it was nice for him to live in that world for a moment— a world where it was just them. He realized he was inching closer to George, feeling a magnetic pull from the other boy. He stopped, and gave a small, awkward wave. Bubbles fluttered past George’s lips as he waved back, holding in his giggles. 

He tilted his head towards— what Wilbur presumed— was the Moon Pool, and he twisted his body to begin swimming there. Wilbur took a moment to admire George’s tail when he turned around, watching the blue shift of his scales move as the sun hit them. 

‘His tail is so beautiful…

‘The color compliments his skin really well.

‘Oh, his skin— it’s so smooth and sparkly. Is that because of the water?

‘Oh, my heart— what’s happening? Why do I feel like this? It’s beating so fast…

‘Oh, shit.’

Breaching the surface of the Moon Pool’s waters felt different for Wilbur than last time. A distinct, welcoming energy enveloped the area; the water was warmer, the cave was brighter— illuminated with a gleaming light as opposed to being pitch black— it was magical. 

“Oh my God!” George exclaimed as he broke through the water, Nick and Clay following promptly after. “We should have done this ages ago!” He pulled himself up onto a rock ledge and rested his chin on his forearms. The others did the same, leaving a spot open for Wilbur. 

He approached next to George, propping his arms up to match his friends. “Agreed. I haven’t really gotten to swim since I went in after Nick.”

Clay turned to him, his eyes wide. “What?! That’s such a long time! You must have been so dehydrated!”

Wilbur looked away. “Uhm, I took baths… I wasn’t, like, completely dried up.” 

“Still,” George began, “you’re a mermaid, the ocean is your home. You’ve missed it, surely!” 

“Yeah, I did.” Wilbur nodded. “Thanks for this, guys. I needed it.”

Then, a few thumps were heard, causing the four of them to perk their heads up. Eret stepped through the entrance, ducking slightly to avoid hitting their head on the low hanging rocks. 

“Sorry about that— she loves to get all chatty when we stop,” they said, looking down at the mermaids in the Moon Pool. “Oh gosh, I thought you guys took your time getting here?” 

“We did,” George confirmed, resting his cheeks on his arms. “The island just made the path longer so we’d meet up at the same time.”

“The island… made the path longer?” Eret asked.

“The island’s magic, dude,” Nick replied, running his hand through his hair. 

Wilbur raised his eyebrows. “Wait, Eret— I’m confused. Who’s ‘she’?...”

“Oh, she’s my boat! She uses any and all pronouns, though, like me!”

“Fair enough.” He shrugged. “Hey, George— I guess the news articles about this island were right, then? It really is magic…”

George giggled. “Yes. But, the protective elements that the reporters deem ‘mysterious’ make it so that the magic stays secret.”

“That’s how we knew to not tell anyone!” Clay interjected. “It’s like the island just told us to keep it on the low.”

“No, I told you to keep it on the low because you wanted to tell your sister,” George replied. “Although, I suppose your sister would have never believed you, anyways.”

“Yes, she would have!” 

Nick rolled his eyes. “She called me dumb for jokingly suggesting that the raining fish bullshit was magic.” 

Clay threw his arms into the air. “She did not! She just thought your guess was dumb!” 

“Dude.”

George groaned. “You’re dumb, Claybert,” he said, before using his tail to splash water onto the blonde.

“Hey! Hey!” Clay sputtered, wiping away the water running down his face. “She would’ve believed me once I told her!”

“She’d probably tell your parents… didn’t she say she likes to cause chaos?” Wilbur added.

“No! Well— yes, but she’s really good at keeping secrets!” Clay defended.

Nick scoffed. “Wasn’t she the one to out you to us?” 

Clay gasped. “WHAT?! You said you knew ‘cause of a hunch!”

“Yeah, a hunch named Drista,” Nick replied.

“This is crazy!” The blonde shook his head. “I should have never told her I was pan… She’s a terrible secret keeper!”

George giggled. “Oh, Claybert” —he patted the other’s shoulder condescendingly— “at least you're pretty.” 

Clay gasped once more before shoving George, causing him to slip from the ledge and into the water. The teen reemerged, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Hilarious.” He huffed, pulling himself back up. “Sleep with one eye open.”

The others began to hide their own sniggering, either covering their mouths with their hands or turning away completely.

“Right,” Eret began, “so— since we agreed to only discuss mermaid stuff here— I have a genuine concern… What are we going to do about Niki?” 

Nick looked around, confused. “Who?”

Wilbur groaned, ignoring Nick’s question. “I don’t even know, Eret. I mean, I know I was in the wrong for ignoring her for so long— but I didn’t think she’d be so… extreme.”

“It’s not your fault, Wilbur. What she said really came out of nowhere,” Clay said.

“I don’t know… it could’ve been resolved better. I was already dealing with a lot, I didn’t think she’d mind if I wasn’t the best texter for a few weeks.” 

“Were you ever going to respond to her?” George asked, quietly. Wilbur’s silence answered for him. “That’s okay. You know, she had a weird energy the moment we walked into the bakery… She was acting like she hadn’t sent a threatening text prior. What did she even expect to happen?”

“Innit? And— why did she assume I even had a secret? She said stuff about you shunning people, George. I know that’s not true but even so— why would she just go making stuff up? What exactly does she know?” Wilbur spoke gently, almost as if to himself.

Suddenly, the group went silent, all four sets of eyes darting away from Wilbur. 

“It is true,” George replied, just as quiet. “Before you arrived— before we had our tails— we weren’t exactly the best of men… I said that day on the way to Eret’s house that the past is the past for a reason— and so I won’t delve too deep into it, but the stuff she said wasn’t entirely wrong…”

Clay nodded, still avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, um… we don’t like to talk about it. But, maybe that’s why she thought you were keeping secrets?”

“That, plus us not really welcoming people into our friend group— she probably came to her own conclusions…” George added.

Wilbur sighed. “Okay… I don’t care who you all were before. You’re good people now. That’s what matters, yeah?” 

“True,” Eret said, “you guys were only mean to the people that deserved it.” 

“Well, evidently, that’s not the narrative that was spread around the school.” George bit his lip, sinking slightly deeper under the water. 

“Oh! Is this about Ricky?” Nick asked. “Does anybody even know her? Even if she did try to expose us, it wouldn’t even do that much.” 

“She hangs around Floris and me sometimes, remember?” Eret said. “But she wouldn’t shut up about Wilbur when he first showed up.”

Wilbur groaned. “She’s so… ugh! You know, she’s also getting into my brother’s head, and turning him against me and all that shit…”

Clay slicked his hair out of his eyes. “Who? Techno? Can’t you talk to him about it?” 

“No— Tommy. I tried, but he won’t listen to me even after I apologized.” Wilbur huffed. “I’m just a villain to him now.” 

“He’s— what— thirteen? He might just be going through puberty,” Nick said.

“I know I was like that when I was his age.” Eret chuckled. “I rained hell on my sibling.” 

“You have a sibling?!” Clay exclaimed.

Eret shrugged, but didn’t answer. “Wilbur— just give him time. The fact that you care shows that you’re a good older brother.”

“I guess,” Wilbur grumbled. “And on top of that, I still need to talk to my dad about our fight, so it’s like– you know…” He shrugged.

“Why do our conversations always come back to this?” George’s voice was quiet, but it silenced all of them. His eyes flicked up, widening when he saw his friends staring at him, and his face flushed immediately. “I mean— I— nevermind!” He shook his head and pushed away, dipping under the water. 

“What…?” Nick blinked, watching the shimmer of George’s tail escape the pool.

“I’ll get him,” Wilbur said, pushing away as well. 

“Wait, um, I don’t th—” Clay’s voice was cut off once the brunette dove under.

Wilbur pushed forward, squinting as he came through the opening of the cave. He turned his head side to side to find George, catching a blue glimmer in the corner of his eye. Twisting quickly, he was able to see the end of George's tail flick behind a hill of coral. 

He pushed off with his tail to catch up quickly, and saw George look over his shoulder, his eyes widening as he seemed to frantically try and swim the opposite direction to escape. Wilbur held up his hands in a benign gesture, trying to calm the other down.

George paused, his eyes going from wide to narrow, but he stayed where he was. Wilbur swam forwards to be shoulder to shoulder with him, reaching out to gently grab his hand. He squeezed it reassuringly before pointing up, receiving a nod.

The two broke the surface of the water, taking in air and moving with the gentle waves. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to say that!” George gasped out, his face still painted red. 

Wilbur maneuvered closer, gently grasping the other’s shoulders. “It’s alright, I promise. I shouldn’t have been so— so self-involved.”

George sighed, looking away. “That’s not what I’m upset about!” He looked back to lock eyes with Wilbur. 

“Oh… then, what’s wrong?”

“You seriously haven’t noticed?!” George pushed Wilbur’s hands off of him. “Every single time we talk, it always comes back to your family issues! You are so lucky, and you are just” —he ran a hand through his hair— “too daft to see that!”

Wilbur blinked, frozen in shock. “I—”

“—You have so many opportunities to fix things, but you don’t! You just want to complain!” George shouted. “Your family cares so much— your dad cares so much, which is why he put up all those photos of you around his brand new house!”

Wilbur stared, opening and closing his mouth without saying anything. A small part of him knew George was right, and that he had every right to be angry. 

“Stop gaping at me like a goldfish!” George snapped. “Maybe you should consider how he feels, for once! Your dad is letting you decide— on your own terms— when you two talk about your fight, and I’ve told you before that that is proof in and of itself that he’s trying!” The boy’s eyes began to water, but he continued. “My father doesn’t try like yours does— I’d do anything for something like that…”

“George…” 

“No! I don’t want you to say anything!” He pushed Wilbur back, dipping him under the waves for a moment.

Wilbur reemerged, wiping water from his eyes, and staring at George in disbelief. The waves began to grow in size, and it was harder to stay on top of them as he felt a familiar feeling of resentment begin to grow. 

“Why did you fucking shove me?!” Wilbur shouted. 

“I don’t fucking know!” George shouted back, his voice breaking at the volume. “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have said anything in the first place!” 

“No! I’d rather you tell me if I’m being an asshole as opposed to keeping it bottled up inside you! If you’re mad, then just say so!”

George struggled to stay above the water, his words becoming slightly muffled. “I’m not mad at you! I’m mad at me! I’m mad at my dad, and my mum, and my whole entire life!” Tears began to flow freely down his cheeks. “When I saw that picture of you and your parents, I just thought, ‘wow, he’s so loved!’ and I’m not! I get so lonely at home… I don’t have brothers to annoy me or keep me company— I don’t have mum or dad to make me dinner— I don’t have anybody!”

Wilbur froze, the weight of George’s words finally hitting him. 

‘I AM lucky, aren’t I…?’ he thought. 

The storm started to ease and slowly ebb away, leaving the two of them in calm waters— alone with their words and feelings.

“George… I’m so sorry,” Wilbur began, carefully. “I hadn’t any idea things were like that for you, and it was shitty of me to complain about my dad when I’ve no clue how yours is. I realize that lately I’ve been acting like the only one with problems, and I understand how invalidating that could be for you— or even the others, for that matter.” He floated to the other boy, closing the distance between them. Up close, he saw the way George’s glassy eyes reflected the light of the sun, and the way the red hue of his cheeks lingered when their gazes met.

“Thank you… for your apology.” George sniffled. “It’s not your fault, and I’m sorry for taking it so personal. I made a big deal out of nothing, and—”

“—No, you didn’t. Your reaction was perfectly justified.” He put a hand on George’s shoulder, smiling softly. “I get it, and I promise I’ll be more wary of your feelings whenever I air out my family problems.” He chose his next words very carefully. “And, about you not having anybody, I promise you’ll always have me… Uhm, and Clay and Nick and Eret and” —he coughed— “okay?”

George sniffled again, and gave a shaky smile. “Okay…” he said, barely audible. “Thank you again. You’re very sweet, Wilbur.” He inched closer to the taller teen, hugging him gently. “Your tail is a marvelous color, as well.”

Wilbur chuckled, warmth spreading throughout his cheeks as he hugged back. “Thank you… yours too.” He pulled away and grasped George’s hand. “C’mon, let’s go back.” 

George nodded and let Wilbur lead him back to the Moon Pool.

Neither noticed how their hands were intertwined the whole time.

When Wilbur got home from the beach, he found that George’s words still lingered in the back of his mind. Even though their conflict was resolved, there were a few things Wilbur had to think about. 

‘Phil isn’t the WORST dad in the world— George is right. He cares enough to let me decide, and he gives me space when I ask for it…

‘He asked me this morning if I wanted to fix things, and I feel it may be worth a shot.

‘God, I hope I don’t regret this…’

Wilbur stopped to pull his shoes off before walking to the kitchen— it was completely silent. He stopped at the entrance, squinting in the darkness to try and detect his father. Once he saw the coast was clear, he grabbed a granola bar, feeling a strong sense of deja vu, but ultimately chalking it off to the anxiety bubbling in his gut. 

Then, he ascended up the staircase, keeping his footsteps light. Even if there were no consequences to breaking the quiet, Wilbur still hated feeling like a nuisance.

He drifted over to Techno's door, knocking lightly. Before he sat down with his father, he decided that he wanted to fix the squabble between him and his older brother. 

“Come in,” Techno’s monotone voice called out.

Wilbur peeked in, barely taking a step into the room. Techno was seated at his desk, rapidly typing something. 

Techno swiveled the chair, the neutral look he bore turning into a grimace. “How just. It’s you.” 

“Uhm, hi,” Wilbur walked up behind him, peering over at the screen. “What are you working on?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” Techno snapped, turning the chair completely to glare up at his brother. 

“Are you cross with me?” 

Techno rolled his eyes. “What gave you that idea?” 

“Hey— I know you are.” Wilbur huffed, crossing his arms defensively. “I just want to know why…”

Techno hummed, turning the chair away. “How was the beach? Did any of your little friends clock your inability to swim? Did they give you floaties? Or was it more like… a chicken fight situation? Whatever it was— it’s a shame you didn’t drown.”

“Is that what this is about?” Wilbur asked. “Are you jealous of me or something?”

“God, no,” Techno said, “why would I be jealous of some six-and-a-half foot jacuzzi turd having a ki with the world’s most ragamuffin group of clowns I ever saw?”

“Right…” Wilbur nodded slowly. “Does this have anything to do with a certain blonde junior?” 

Techno breathed out, his shoulders tensing. “It’s not about Clay. He’s fine.”

“Sure.” 

“It’s not, Wil!” Techno pushed his chair away, standing up. “Must I spell it out for you? You up and left in the middle of our day; you had just said you were going to stop ditching me to hang out with your friends, then got home and ditched me to hang out with your friends!”

Wilbur gaped, taking a step back when he was met with Techno’s glare. 

They stood like that for a moment before the eldest let out a sigh, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “It’s fine now,” he said, “I’m not that upset anymore. Just drop it.” 

Wilbur stepped forward cautiously. “Techno… I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine— I’m not even mad at you anymore. Just irritated.”

“Okay…what can I do to fix it?”

“Nothing, Wil.” Techno sighed, sitting back down. “Just let me do my homework, and stop being a dick.” 

Wilbur nodded. “Yeah, I figured. Today just seems to be a bad time for everyone. I don’t know what I did to make everyone hate me…” 

“Ew, guilt trip much?” Techno scoffed. “Get the fuck out, nerd.” 

The brunette rolled his eyes and turned on his heel, stopping abruptly at the door to ask, “Wait— where’s Dad?” 

“Um, his office?”

“But his car’s in the driveway…”

“His home office, you basic cable bitch.” Techno huffed. “Close my door behind you, or you’ll die very soon.”

Wilbur nodded, exiting and purposely leaving the door cracked, a small smirk crossing his face for a moment. He heard Techno curse at him and slam the door, causing a small giggle to escape. 

He continued down the hall, passing his room and Tommy’s and arriving in front of a pair of double doors. He knew that just behind them was his father, waiting for Wilbur to sit down and talk with him.

Wilbur stared at the door handles, and they seemed to stare back, taunting him. He shook out his nerves and pushed open the door, only to freeze as his heart rate sped up. 

He saw his father typing away at his work computer, a pair of dainty glasses resting on his nose bridge. Phil looked above his monitor to see who had just entered, straightening up as Wilbur stepped further inside.

Wilbur hesitated to meet his gaze, choosing instead to scan over the numerous bookshelves that were spread around the office like chess pieces. He drifted over to one of them, tracing his finger along the leather-bound writings.

“Wil,” Phil said, eyes locked on the boy’s movements, “nice to see you. How was the beach?”

“It was fine…” Wilbur said, trailing off slightly.

“So— are you here for any particular reason…?” asked Phil, sensing there was something else on his son’s mind. 

“Yes— I… I’ve been thinking about what you said this morning, and I think I want to fix this. I think I want to talk about” —he gulped— “mum, and our relationship, and everything I said to you that one day.”

Phil’s eyes widened in surprise, and he nodded, pushing away from his desk. He made his way over to the couch that sat against the wall and patted the seat beside him, smiling gently. Wilbur stared for a moment, then moved to the couch and sat down, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“So, should I start?” Phil asked. “Or would you like to?”

Wilbur sighed. “I’ll start.” He turned to face his dad as much as he could without his nerves overpowering him. “I… I guess I should start by saying I’m sorry for saying all of that terrible stuff, and making you cry. It was an emotional moment for me— I think I was too wrapped up in my own feelings to consider yours, but that’s something I plan on working on.”

A gentle smile spread across Phil's face. “Thank you for the apology. I accept it,” he said. “Now, would you like to reiterate what exactly were your feelings then? Just so I know we’re on the same page.”

The teen shrugged, drawing his knees closer. “I feel like you only keep me around because I remind you of mum, and, I don’t know” —he rubbed his thumb against his clenched fist— “I also feel like ever since Techno was adopted, you’ve pushed me to the side.

“I’m not mad at either of you. I’m happy Techno’s my brother, and I’m happy you fought to adopt him. But then— right when I thought you’d talk to me again— you adopted Tommy. And I’m happy you adopted him, too, even though he and I are fighting right now. 

“But I guess what I’m trying to say is: I feel like the two of them have always been your primary focus, and” —Wilbur paused to let out a shaky breath— “ever since you adopted them, we never speak past small talk. I feel like you don’t know anything about me,” he finished, before turning his head and ducking away from his father. 

Phil placed a gentle hand on his son’s shoulder, sighing deeply. “It’s okay Wilbur,” he said. “Thank you for telling me all of that— I’m sorry you’ve been feeling neglected.”

“That doesn’t fix anything!” Wilbur said. “I just wish you’d be honest, because I know you only adopted them as an escape from me.” 

“I—” 

“—I don’t want wishy-washy apologies, dad. I want the truth.” 

Phil hesitated, before letting out a sentimental chuckle. “Fine. The truth is: you’re right, Wilbur,” he said, shifting in his seat. “You do remind me of your mother. You’re smart like her, headstrong like her, and you’re always right, just like her…

“Everything you said was correct. Raising Techno and Tommy was an… escape of sorts. Of course, I care for, and love each of you so much. But, again, you were right in assuming that I associated you with your mother.”

“Well, no shit,” Wilbur grumbled. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. You know, that’s also why we moved here; I was running away from Kristin— from our home.” Phil leaned back against the couch, tilting his head up to look at the ceiling. “The pay isn’t that much better here… it just hurt so much to live in the house that I shared with her. She was the love of my life.”

“Why didn’t you just— I don’t know— get therapy? You didn’t need to drag me, Techno, and Tommy away from our entire lives just so you could start a new one here.” 

“People go through grief in different ways, Wil. I didn’t know how to ask for help— especially seven years after her death. I was given the opportunity to go abroad, and I took it.”

Wilbur stayed silent, watching his father try to process his own thoughts. He wanted to scream that it wasn’t fair, that Phil left his son behind in that process, but he couldn’t. 

“If it hurt that badly, why didn’t you just–” Wilbur shrugged his shoulders and vaguely gestured a shooing motion. 

“Because you’re my son and I wasn’t going to abandon you. I also figured it’d be better for you, too— since your friends in Brighton weren’t the best kids. You were so alone, as was I, and I thought our family needed a reset.” 

Wilbur blinked, averting his gaze. A lump situated itself in his throat, and he knew his eyes had become glassy as the burn of tears started to creep up on his senses. “So, now what? Do we just– do we just move on? Go back to co-existing in the same house?”

“No, we don’t,” Phil said. “We— I will fix this.” 

Wilbur furrowed his eyebrows. “You don’t have to—”

“—Yes, I do, Wilbur. I’ve not been a good father to you lately. I swear that from now on, I’ll stop viewing you as an extension of Kristin.” The man smiled, his eyes squinting with kindness. “You’re your own person; I should have been treating you like it this whole time.”

Wilbur froze, his eyes frantically searching for a lie where he couldn’t find one. The lump in his throat grew, and he found himself unable to stop the trail of tears falling down his cheeks. 

“Thank you, dad,” he managed. “This talk wasn’t as agonizing as I thought it’d be…”

“Oh, Wilbur.” Phil’s smile grew shaky, and he opened his arms for his son.

Wilbur threw himself into his father’s embrace, tucking his face into Phil’s shoulder. The man tightened his hold, humming gently and letting the boy pour out his emotions. 

After a couple minutes, Wilbur was able to bring down his sobs to shaky breaths, his tears slowing to a halt, leaving his eyes raw and red. He heard his father’s heartbeat— slow and calm, and it erased all of his worries. 

“I love you,” Wilbur said quietly, muffled by Phil’s shirt. 

“I love you, too,” His father’s voice rumbled, lulling Wilbur into a sense of security. “I always will— and I’m going to do everything I can to fix this— but you’ll have to forgive me if I make mistakes.” His tone was lighter, more teasing than anything. 

Wilbur snorted and shook his head. “Okay. But if you mess up, you can’t avoid me like before.” 

“Agreed.” 

They relished in each other’s embrace for a moment more before Wilbur slowly pulled back. Phil looked at him with worry in his eyes, but Wilbur shook his head to dismiss it, sniffling and using his shirt sleeves to wipe at his eyes. The man hummed in understanding, raising his hand up to run them through Wilbur’s curls.

Wilbur sighed, easing into his father’s touch. His eyes fluttered shut, letting the feeling of peace wash over him. But it wasn’t long before that peace became drowsiness and Wilbur moved away from Phil to stretch across the couch, his legs hanging over the side. 

“I think I’m gonna take a nap… crying makes me tired,” he said.

Phil chuckled. “Right. But, before I let you rest— I need to ask, are you alright with seeing a psychiatrist?” 

Wilbur groaned. “Yes. As long as it’s not because you think I need to be ‘fixed’.”

“Never. You’re the perfect amount of neurotic. I wouldn’t rather you be any other way,” Phil joked. “But, in all seriousness, I feel like seeing a doctor could be the first step to helping you.”

Wilbur let out an amused laugh, before closing his eyes again. “Okay, sure.” 

Phil laughed as well, getting up to leave. He walked slowly to the doorframe and just stood there, looking over his shoulder. It seemed like there were words balanced carefully on the tip of his tongue, but they went unsaid. 

Instead, Phil smiled fondly at his son and flicked the light off. He made sure to leave the door cracked when he left, though.

Just in case they needed one another.

Chapter Text

Techno and Clay weren’t strangers. They saw each other every day and knew each other pretty well since they met through family and mutual friends, respectively. But even so, the air between them was seldom a casual breeze— it felt more like a storm; thick with intense, building pressure that would crush them both if they weren’t careful. 

Or at least that’s how Techno saw it while he laid across his bed on his stomach, anxiously fixated on his phone while he waited for a text from Clay. He wished he could play dumb and pretend he didn’t know why he was so nervous to see the blonde later that night— he wished he could chalk it up to “teen hormones” or “superstition”. But Techno knew exactly what it was that sat in his stomach, stirring up dread and misgiving. 

The truth that plagued his mind was this: he was simply unprepared. He just didn’t have the experience that was required to survive something as formidable as a second date.

After all, first dates were a completely different— more manageable— beast for Techno. They were quick, simple, and most importantly for him, distant. He was able to use that time to analyze and break apart whomever sat across from him, and he’d gotten so proficient at it that, at times, he felt like it was all he was good for. 

A knock on his door cut through his thoughts, and he quickly sat up to turn towards the source of the noise. 

“What do you want?” Techno asked, trying to conceal the waver in his tone. 

The door swung open to reveal his youngest brother centered in the doorframe, not even looking at him. But before Techno could even process the encounter, Tommy beelined to his desk, immediately beginning to go through his jewelry stand. 

“Um, hello? What do you think you’re doing, you clown?” he barked, pushing himself off his bed to grab at Tommy’s hands.

“Can I have one?” Tommy blinked. “An earring.”

“No! What’s wrong with you?” Techno tried to shove Tommy out of the room, but the youngest resisted, instead moving to Techno’s bed and flopping down onto it. 

“Techno, why do you look like that?” Tommy asked. 

“Like what.”

“Like, somewhat presentable. Where are you going?”

“On a date,” Techno answered, grabbing Tommy’s hand and attempting to pull him off the blankets. “Now, get out.”

The other refused to budge. “With Clay? I hate Clay, he’s such a tool.” 

“Why are you so obsessed with being a dickhead?” 

“I’m not! I just have a lot of questions! I’m very inquisitive and bright.”

“...You are such a fucking water stain.” Techno’s eyes drifted over to his phone which rested dangerously close to Tommy. He snatched it off his bed and pocketed it. 

Tommy seemed to ignore this. “Ugh. I’m bored, can I please have an earring?” he pouted.

The oldest sat down at his desk chair, glaring over his shoulder. “Go bug Wil or Dad.” 

“Wil is a bitch and Dad’s busy.” 

“Hey— you can’t say that,” Techno snapped, before pinching his nose bridge. “Can’t you just go play Fortnite, or something? Since when do you care about jewelry so much?” 

“You’ve inspired me,” Tommy said, walking over to Techno’s desk to try and poke through it again. 

Techno slapped his brother’s hands away. “Jesus, what’s wrong with you today? I clearly haven’t inspired shit, Tommy— you wear the same shirt every day.”

“No I don’t!” 

“Yes, you do.” 

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yuh-huh.”

“I don’t! I don’t! I don’t! I d—”

“—I’m not having this argument with you,” Techno groaned. “Get out of my room, please. I’m begging.” 

Tommy sniffed, crossing his arms and turning his face away. “What time will you be back?” 

“Why do you care?” 

“I don’t.” Tommy turned and walked back to the doorway. “And I don’t even play Fortnite.”

“Theseus, I truly could not care less.”

The blonde gasped theatrically. “TECHNOBLADE DOESN’T CARE ABOUT ME AND HE SAID IT HIMSELF!!!” he yelled, running out the door.

Techno recoiled. “I didn’t say th—”

“HAVE FUN WITH THAT BLONDE BIMBO, YOU…” a string of non-verbal screams completed Tommy’s threat, and he sped downstairs, his stomping feet trailing off once he made it to the living room.

“He’s not a—”

Another long shriek, muffled by the walls and floors, cut him off before he could defend Clay. Faintly, he heard their father telling the youngest to quiet down.

Techno abhorred as he thought to himself, ‘...Freak.’

Alone once again, and able to fixate on his own issues, Techno couldn’t help but wonder why. Why was Clay taking him out for a second date? He knew practically everybody at school wanted a piece of the football player, so what made him special? He didn’t know, and the uncertainty gnawed at his brain like hungry zombies. 

A notification ping stopped him from pondering any longer. Techno pulled out his phone and his eyes widened when he saw a text from Clay announcing his arrival. He hurriedly grabbed his wallet before leaving his room, skipping stairs to reach the front door, which he opened as he was pulling his shoes on. 

From the driveway, he could see the blonde waving enthusiastically from inside his car. Techno felt his face warm, and he took a deep breath before getting in. 

“Hey! I was gonna knock, but you didn’t seem to like that last time!” Clay grinned brightly, turning to face Techno. 

“It’s fine, thanks,” said Techno. “So what are we doing tonight?”

Clay turned back to the wheel, putting the car into gear. “Okay, so they’re playing these old horror movies at the park and it’s couples night, so I packed us a picnic!” 

Techno raised an eyebrow and scrunched up his nose. “Oh? That’s so…” he trailed off.

“Now, I know it might not be your thing, but at least try it out! We can leave if you hate it, I swear!” 

Techno sighed and nodded. “Fine,” he said, leaning into his seat. “But it’s not like, jumpscares or anything, right?” 

“No no no!” Clay pulled out into the street. “It’s stuff like ‘ Dracula’! Old, old movies, you know?” 

“Alright,” Techno said, tossing his hair over his shoulder, “that’s like, camp. I could vibe.”

“Camp?!” Clay giggled. “No, it’s not—it’s a picnic!”

“Jesus, Clay, you make me feel like I’m speaking a different language.” Techno sighed. “Camp is like, doing too much— but in a way that’s not totally embarrassing.” 

“Ohh… Then yeah, it’s camp?”

“...Um, sure.”

The first thing Techno noticed when they parked was all the couples mingling about the scene. He knew the moment Clay said where they’d be going that they’d be out of place, and it was glaringly obvious now; he surmised that all of the couples— no matter how young or old they were— had been together far longer than a few weeks. 

Clay got out to grab the picnic and blankets from his trunk, which left Techno sitting in the passenger seat. He took a few deep breaths, trying to push down his anxiety before the blonde could notice and worry over him. 

He stepped out of the car, drifting over to Clay to watch him stress about the amount of blankets they needed. It was endearing— the way Clay wanted everything to be perfect, but he still couldn’t figure out what made himself worth that effort. 

“Can I help you carry anything?” Techno asked, crossing his arms while he waited. 

“Um…” Clay trailed off, “yeah, wanna grab the bag with the blankets?” 

Techno nodded, scanning for the said bag and pulling it over his shoulder wordlessly.

With a slam of the trunk, they made their way to the movie watching area and found an open spot in the grass to set up. Clay quickly got to work, laying out the plaid fabric and pulling out covered plates from the picnic basket. Afterwards, he took a seat, patting the spot next to him and smiling up at the older teen.

Techno sat down, crossing his legs and peering at the covered plates. He went to pull up the foil, raising an eyebrow. 

“Wait, wait!” Clay leaned forwards, grasping the other’s wrist gently. “You can see what I made when they start the movie— but it’s a surprise until then!” 

Techno froze, eyes flicking over to the blonde. “What? Why?” he asked, pulling his arm out of Clay’s grasp. 

“Because it’s supposed to be eaten with the movie. We have to wait.” 

“Oh… okay?” 

Techno leaned back and began to observe the couples around them, watching the pairs laugh and flirt with each other. He felt like a miserable hater amongst a crowd of lovers, and doubt began to creep back into his thoughts. 

But despite what he tried to tell himself, it was clear that Clay genuinely liked him for him. There wasn’t a ‘but your family is crazy’ attached, or a ‘you’d look so much better with short hair’. Clay was something entirely new; he cooked him dinner to go with the movie— something no boy has ever even considered doing for him— and he even took care of Wilbur, asking for nothing in return. For the umpteenth time, Techno wondered when it would stop. What would be the breaking point? He’d never gotten this far with anyone, so surely it was coming soon.

Techno startled when he felt calloused hands suddenly grasp his, stilling the unconscious picking. He looked up, blinking a few times as the world readjusted. Green eyes looked into his own, concern shining through. 

“Is it too loud? It’s kind of loud for me, I dunno if it’s actually that loud, but I’m sure everyone will quiet down when the movie starts,” Clay rambled, his thumb brushing over Techno’s knuckles. 

Techno looked down at their joined hands, hating the way his heart raced. “Have you ever used lotion? Your hands are more beat than Ru Paul’s face,” he blurted out.

Clay squinted. “...Who’s Ru Paul?” 

“Absolutely nobody.” Techno looked away. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Did they do something to you?” Clay’s worried expression returned. “If they did, I can beat them up.” 

“Wow, testosterone overload much?” Techno furrowed his eyebrows, genuinely thrown off. “But, um, thanks… I think.”

The blonde chuckled. “Of course! I’d hate anyone who made you upset.” 

“That’s… very sweet of you,” Techno answered, turning to face the screen. “When is this damn movie starting? This waiting period isn’t giving ‘overture’ as much as it’s giving ‘the land over yawn-der’.”

Clay let out a polite laugh, but Techno noticed the way his eyes wandered about— like he was contemplating something.

“Hey…” Clay began, uncertainty sprinkled throughout his words, “is it okay if I k—”

Just then, the speakers boomed with the sound of the Universal Studios fanfare which caused both of them to jump, Techno squeezing Clay’s hand in a vice grip. 

Halfway through the movie, Clay finally uncovered the different plates, revealing the vast array of food he had prepared for the two. 

“What’s all this?” Techno whispered, looking between the dishes with an eyebrow raised.

“Oh! Well, these are cucumber sandwiches— with the corners cut off, of course!” Clay explained, his voice low as well. “Queen Elizabeth the second really enjoys them during tea time, and I figured since you’re from England you’d like them!” 

Techno opened his mouth to speak, but Clay cut him off to continue on his spiel. 

“Do you know why they cut the corners off for the Queen? It’s because serving anything with sharp corners means that someone wants to overthrow the monarchy!”

Techno gaped, looking at the plate in mild shock. “Thanks for explaining my own country to me.”

“No, no, I didn’t mean to—”

“—It’s fine. It’s cute that you were thinking of me when you made this…” 

Techno took a slice and delicately observed it up close. It was expertly crafted; the way everything was layered made it look like it should have been served to the actual Queen of England. Instead, it was being served to him.

“Of course I thought of you! I’m not going out with anyone else, am I?” Clay chuckled, gesturing to the next dish. “I also made spring rolls and a salad, but the sandwiches are the main dish!” 

Techno nodded, eyes still observing the food in his hands. He looked up to see Clay staring at him intently, waiting for him to take the first bite.

Techno scoffed, putting up a hand to shield his face. “Ew, don’t look at me while I chew.” 

“Sorry! I just want to make sure you like it.” Clay laughed softly, focusing on something else so the other could try the sandwich.

“Relax, I probably will.”

Techno waited a moment more before taking a bite, and when he did, the flavors flourished in his mouth like a dandelion being blown out. He was genuinely surprised, looking down at the sandwich with approval. 

“Holy shit, Clay,” Techno spoke once he swallowed, looking away from the food and up at the blonde. “This is really good. How the fuck did you make this?”

“It wasn’t that hard, actually! I’m glad you like it!” Clay grinned, grabbing a slice himself. 

“I didn’t realize you knew how to cook or bake.” 

“I don’t really bake, but I’ll do it if I have to!”

“Love that. So like, are you a brain genius at anything else?” 

“Oh, well, I love swimming! But I also love running, and I plan to run a marathon pretty soon, actually!” 

“Oh, that’s…” Techno grimaced. “Sorry, running is so, like, sweaty.”

Clay laughed. “Oh, you don’t run? Then how do you stay active?” 

Techno shrugged. “I used to fence, but I haven’t done it in a while since I can’t find a fencing club here that isn’t filled with old geezers. Since I moved, I’ve just been doing body weight stuff.” 

“Wow, fencing? That’s so cool!” Clay exclaimed, causing the couple next to them to glance over for a moment. He winced, lowering his voice slightly before continuing, “Would you still fence if you had a good partner?”

“I… guess?” Techno bit into the last piece of his sandwich. He took a moment to chew before speaking again, “I haven’t really been looking. Again, it’s literally only old people that can barely lift their sabers. It’s a little pathetic, but I’m not mad, though.” 

Clay snorted, nodding. “Right, but that’s still so cool!” 

“Thanks… so uh, what about you? With the whole swimming thing?” Techno asked, trying to redirect the attention off of him.

“Oh!” Clay’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment, a look of worry crossing his features. “Um, I don’t really swim a lot anymore…”

“So, do you wanna tell me about when you did…?”

“Sure, sure.” Clay huffed out a laugh, still tense. “I used to swim competitively until my sophomore year. I was on track for the Olympics— which is crazy, I know— but I guess I just fell out of it.” 

“You just ‘fell out’ of being an Olympic swimmer?” 

“Well, it’s not like it was really my choice. My mom thought I’d be a gold medalist, so she always kept pushing. I guess I just got burnt out? I swim on my own now— just for fun— but it took a while to get back into it.” 

“I get it,” Techno said, “expectations are that bitch, sometimes.” 

Clay nodded, looking down at the food he was eating. He fidgeted with his fork as he thought. It looked as if he was trying to decide something, and when he looked back up he seemed determined. 

“Techno, is it alright if I—”

“—Clay?!”

They both froze as Cara’s voice broke between the two. Clay jumped, his head swiveling around to find the girl. 

“Oh, shit! Hey, Cara!” Clay said, causing a few couples to shush them. 

Cara winced, mouthing an apology as she moved through the crowd and sat beside the blonde. 

“On a second date, I see!” She grinned, her voice more hushed now. “That’s rare for you, Clay…” 

Her tone was teasing, but Clay still turned red, hunching slightly. “Cara, shut up,” he whined. 

Techno crossed his arms, on the defensive now. 

“I’m only kidding, I promise.” She giggled. “I’m happy for you two! You’re the absolute cutest!”

“Thanks, I guess,” said Clay. “So wh—” 

“—Who are you here with?” Techno asked, a frown settling on his face. 

Cara’s eyes widened and she pointed vaguely across the grass. “Oh! My girlfriend!”

Clay gasped. “What?! You’re dating someone?! And you didn’t even tell me?!” 

“Hey, we just started dating a month ago or so. It didn’t get serious until this week,” she answered, chuckling softly.

“Do we know her?” Clay asked. 

“Oh, probably not. She goes to our school, though!” 

Techno raised an eyebrow, but didn’t bother pressing. It wasn’t his business, so he didn’t really care. 

“Maybe we’ll see her around?” said Clay, turning to Techno to see if he agreed. The other teen just shrugged.

“Maybe,” Cara said, nodding. “But I should really go, I told her I’d be right back…” 

“That’s alright! It was nice seeing you!” Clay leaned in and gave her a side hug before she got up, ruffling his hair. 

“Nice seeing you, too! Good luck with the rest of your date!” Cara said, beginning to walk away. “See you in class, Techno!” 

“How just,” Techno said, rolling his eyes as she continued to leave. 

Clay turned to his date as soon as Cara was out of earshot.“Sorry, I didn’t think anyone from school would be here,” he said.

“It’s whatever. Can we just watch the movie?” 

“Uh, yeah, sure!” Clay nodded, before tripping over his next words. “Um, can I… put my arm around you?” 

Techno sighed, but scooted closer to signal a ‘yes’.

They walked with joined hands back to Clay’s car after the movie, then unloaded everything into the trunk.

“So… is that it?” Techno asked, looking up at the sky. It wasn’t that dark outside yet.

“Well it’s all I had planned,” Clay said. “Why? Do you want to do something else?”

“Um… if you want to.”

Clay thought for a moment, tapping his foot as he looked around.

“Oh! I know this one place— it’d be a perfect way to end the night! Do you wanna hear it?”

Techno sighed, turning to face his date. “Take me wherever, Clay, as long as we can be alone.” 

Clay grinned, nodding. “Okay, then it’ll be a surprise!” he said, before dropping Techno’s hand to open the passenger door for him. 

“Wow, and they say chivalry is dead,” Techno quipped, getting in. Clay laughed and circled around to his side of the car.

He drove for about five minutes before he reached the beach, where he parked on the street and got out, Techno following behind. 

They trudged through the sand, passing behind a dune and into a clearing where Clay stopped in front of a pile of singed wood. “Okay— this is it, just give me a minute!” 

“A bonfire…?” Techno asked, finding a seat on one of the surrounding benches.

“Yep!” Clay answered while stacking sticks and driftwood onto the set up. “Do you have a lighter?”

“Do I look like someone who’d have a lighter?” 

“I dunno. Nick carries one usually, so I was just asking. Don’t worry, though! People drop them around here all the time!” Clay got down on the floor to look for a lighter, but it wasn’t long before he found one.

“Clay, is this ironic? Because I don’t do irony.”

“Why would this be ironic?”

“Nevermind— can we wrap this up, please? I’m getting cold.”

“You look pretty hot to me!” Clay winked and gave his date a thumbs up.

Techno let out an amused scoff. “Good one. Now, light this damn fire or I’m going home.”

“Okay, okay!” 

Clay grabbed a twig, tossing it into the pile once it was lit. While waiting for the fire to pick up, he decided to take the opportunity to sit beside Techno, shoulder to shoulder.

“Hi,” the blonde half-whispered, a dumb grin taking form on his face.

Techno huffed, but leaned into Clay as he watched the flames rise. “Hi,” he replied.

“Did you like the movie?” 

“It was… nice.” 

“Just nice?” 

Techno groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Yes, God, what else do you want me to say? ‘I thought it was really nice that you cooked us a meal’?” 

“That works!” Clay said, with a snicker.

Techno shoved him with his shoulder, jostling him for a moment. “Yeah? Well, that’s all you get.” 

Clay laughed, pushing back. “Come on, now! I wanted our second date to be special, and I figured you’d like it more than another fancy restaurant. Plus, you strike me as someone who likes movies.”

“The whole populace likes movies,” said Techno. “Me being a ‘film buff’ doesn’t mean anything when it’s the most widely consumed media in the world.” 

“I never said ‘film buff’!” 

“You didn’t, I did. I love old films— but I wouldn’t call something like ‘Dracula’ a good date movie.” 

“I think it is,” Clay said. “I’m pretty sure the point was to like, make out during it.” 

Techno scrunched his nose up. “Ew. Dozens of strangers all making out in the same place? That’s so like, slobbish-locker-room vibes.” 

Clay laughed. “I guess. I mean, when you put it that way…”

Techno paused, gathering his thoughts for a moment. “It was…” —he turned towards Clay— “nice, though. With you.”

Clay blushed, meeting Techno’s gaze as an abrupt hush fell over the two of them. For a moment, green eyes flicked down to the other’s lips before looking back up. 

“Techno?” Clay’s words carried an indescribable weight to them as he leaned closer.

“...Yeah?”

“Can I”—he cleared his throat— “can I kiss you?”

As soon as the words left Clay’s mouth, Techno had ripped himself away to double over in laughter. It left Clay shocked, frozen in fear as his date gasped for air, trying to contain his cackling. 

“What?!” Techno managed out, still trying to catch his breath. “Are you serious?!”

Clay frowned, looking away. “It was stupid. Nevermind.” 

Techno sat up, huffing out the last of his giggling and grabbing the blonde’s hands. “No no no— Clay, I need you to tell me if you’re serious! I-I literally cannot tell!” 

“...What?” Clay huffed, his cheeks tinged red with embarrasment. 

“You want to kiss me?! Right now?!”

“Yes! What’s so funny?!” 

“I just— didn’t picture a first kiss to be a second date thing,” Techno said, stubborn coughs of laughter poking through his words.

“Well, me neither! But you just look so nice, and it’s really pretty ou—”

“—Pause,” Techno interrupted, eyebrows raised, “I thought you went out with people all the time. Shouldn’t you of all people know if that’s something you do on the second date?” 

Clay went silent, looking away. 

Techno’s eyes widened. “Oh my God. Clay— how many second dates have you been on?” 

“Maybe two…” Clay mumbled out, eyes trained on the fire. 

“Is this the second one?” 

Clay gave a bashful nod and furrowed his brow. “I know, it’s kinda weird,” he said.

“No, it’s not,” said Techno. “I hadn’t been on a second date at all until today. So, for what it’s worth, you’ve been on more than I have.”

“Wait— really? This is your first second date?”