Work Text:
The breeze sifted through the forest, plucking up leaves as it danced and whispered to the birds. Sunlight was seeping in through hanging branches, reflecting off of the surface of the glassy river water. Small pebbles tumbled along the stream, picking up debris as it went. A frog sung a low tune as it hopped along the very edge of the river bank. Somewhere, a crow gave a sharp caw as it presumably missed its landing.
Wilbur hummed a melody to himself as he plucked away at the guitar rested on his lap. The grimy strings needed to be replaced, and the wood was scratched and dented in several places, but alas, it was the best he had. It was the best that most had, especially now. It wasn't easy to obtain brand new instruments during a war. So he dealt.
He wasn't quite sure what he was playing. Perhaps he made it up, a long time ago, back when he, Tommy, and Techno would run around in fields or pretend to be their own band. Or maybe, Wilbur had heard the song somewhere. There was no way to tell. Nowadays, he typically played whatever came to mind first.
It was a good day, Wilbur noted. It didn't seem like he had too many of those anymore. There was far too much bloodshed and tears to take a moment and fill his lungs with fresh air. His organs had often felt clogged, filled with the murkiest water straight from the dirty, contaminated lake. His throat would plead for a break, anything to taste something besides salt. But he choked it down regardless of what his body told him, he choked it down in a solid gold goblet, sticking his pinky finger out as the liquid fell down to the pit of his stomach and coated every wall and left a repulsive trail as it went. But not anymore. Or at least, not today. Today was a good day.
Wilbur got a sense of déjà vu as he strummed the tune, glancing up through the bundles of leaves and at the cotton white clouds dotting the sky. He only felt as if he was missing something, although he couldn't put his finger on what.
The sound of leaves crunching in the distance hardly registered in Wilbur's mind. He was far too used to the sound of nimble animals chasing down rabbits, pouncing on them and dragging them away to their dens. He barely noticed that the crumbling noise was a bit too heavy.
The boulder that Wilbur was perched on was rough against his ankles, scraping his skin and leaving trails of red scratches behind. But he didn't mind. Today was a good day.
“Oh," said a voice all too familiar to Wilbur's ears.
And suddenly it clicked. This was their song.
Wilbur's movements over the fretboard slowed to a halt as he struck a wrong note in alarm. He turned carefully, mesmerized as the glint of tattered dress shoes caught his eye. Wilbur forced his stare upward, and found himself looking into a familiar gaze.
Wilbur didn't say anything. He simply just stared, a chill creeping up his spine.
He watched as Schlatt took a deep breath, eyes flicking back down to his feet as he begrudgingly moved a foot in Wilbur's direction.
Schlatt trampled several more leaves as he came closer, snapping a branch or two in the process. He stepped over Wilbur's beanie laid on the forest floor, strewn away in an attempt to feel the wind in his hair.
He hoisted himself onto the rock Wilbur was sitting on. Schlatt pulled his legs upward until he was slouched with them crisscrossed. The breeze ruffled his tie, making him appear less professional than usual. He was facing forwards, refusing to face Wilbur's direction.
"Well," Schlatt mumbled. "Don't stop playing just because I showed up."
Wilbur released a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. It had been too long since they were this civil to one another.
He moved his hands back into place, letting the melody flow and fill both of their ears. It sounded like familiarity and it felt like a time from long ago. Schlatt leaned his head back, and for once it felt like things had fallen correctly into place for Wilbur. It was their window of peace.
Today was indeed, a good day.