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In the stillness of the night, one hospital room was bustling with noise, a very special occasion happening…
“Good, good, you’re doing very well. Keep pushing.”
“Doctor, she’s losing too much blood!”
“Make sure to keep an eye on her—we don’t want anything to happen to the child.”
Loud screams and heavy pants, convulsions and spasms wracking her body as she cried, throat sore and in pain from all her screaming, feeling faint and dizzy but stubbornly pushing forwards, egged on by both the doctors and nurses’ words and her baby's piercing cries.
“Doctor, I really don’t think she’s going to make it!”
“... Keep pushing, ma’am, your child is almost through. I know it hurts and you’re exhausted, but please don’t stop on us just yet.”
After another long, agonizing ten minutes, the baby had finally come out, still wailing as the nurse quickly wrapped it in a towel and hurried out of the room.
The woman watched as her baby was properly taken care of, a huge sigh of relief escaping her lips as her eyes slowly closed shut, exhaustion finally taking over her.
“Don’t close—open—too much blood—” All she could hear was the fractured shouts of the doctors and nurses shouting at her but she was too tired, simply slipping into a deep, eternal slumber.
Wilbur paced the outside of the room, watching with worried glances as he heard his wife’s screams and the doctors and nurses’ frantic shouts meld into one.
He’d been late, having been at work when Sally’s water had broken and she was rushed to the hospital by a kind neighbor of theirs.
The neighbor had called him and he left without even informing his boss of his leave, which he was sure to get fired over but the place was a piece of shit anyways and besides—he had more important things to worry about.
Changing places with the neighbor when he got there, the nurses didn’t let him inside, saying there were “complications” and that they couldn’t afford any distractions.
Wilbur, of course, was worried—rightfully so. That was his wife and child in that room, and he was being told that there were “complications”?
Unfortunately, all he could do was wait.
Hours passed and his mind was completely frayed; he was pacing back and forth, on the verge of a panic attack multiple times, listening to Sally’s screams and cries as the staff seemed desperate to try and help her, and all he could do was wait, uselessly .
When he’d finally heard the baby's cries, everything only seemed to get that much worse.
More and more hours passed, the rushing of doctors and nurses and the screaming of both his child and wife running circles around his mind, when, almost all of a sudden, everything seemed to stop.
Confused and infinitely worried, Wilbur wanted to rush in and see what had happened, but forced himself to stay in the hallway, to not bother the doctors as they worked.
Minute by painfully slow minute passed, somehow going by sluggishly compared to the hours that seemed to fly by just moments before, and Wilbur was about to pull all of his hair out in worry.
Biting his index finger in a nervous habit, Wilbur waited.
He waited, and waited, and waited…
Then…
“Mr. Soot?”
Snapping his head up, he looked to see a doctor walking out of the room, a nurse not too far behind, holding a small bundle of blankets in her arms.
His heart leapt, nervous hope starting to bloom.
“Yes?” He answered hesitantly, looking between the bundle and doctor.
The doctor gave him a small smile, though something about it seemed… off, somehow. “Congratulations. You have a beautiful baby girl.”
Wilbur beamed, elated at the news as the nurse walked forward, pushing away the soft white cloth to reveal a peaceful face.
Wide, green eyes looked over at him, and he melted, immediately seeing the resemblance between her and Sally.
“That… That’s wonderful.” Wilbur whispered in awe, allowing the nurse to gently hand his daughter over as he held her with as much gentleness and care as he possibly could.
“... There is… some bad news, however.” The doctor continued after a moment, and Wilbur froze, tearing his gaze away from his baby to look over at them.
“... what?”
“Your wife, I’m afraid… she didn’t make it.”
And with that, Wilbur’s world fell.
However, it fell slowly, as if it were crumbling down in slow motion, and he could barely hear what the nurse beside him said when she spoke.
“The child… What are you going to name her?” She asked, and Wilbur looked down at his baby, at her beautiful green eyes, the few wisps of orange hair poking out as well, and he knew exactly what her name would be.
“Flora.” He said. “Her name… is Flora. Flora Soot.”
-
“Dad, I really don’t know—Flora, please don’t put that in your mouth—Gods, how did she get in there? I swear she has some sort of fox genes in her, she’s able to pick open even the most secure locks… How did you manage to handle three of us, good gods.” Wilbur spoke rapidly, pulling his daughter out of a kitchen cabinet, prying an item of unidentifiable origins from her grubby little hands.
He really needs to try and clean up in there… and all the other cabinets as well, now that he thought about it.
Adjusting the phone on his shoulder, he brought her back to the living room, setting her back down in her crib so he could have some relief from her antics.
“That’s just how kids are, mate.” Phil laughed on the other end, clearly amused with his sufferings.
“She’s only been crawling for a week, Dad. A week !” He sighs, shaking his head fondly as Flora gurgled something, incoherent and utter nonsense but he smiled at her and nodded along regardless as she continued to babble on. “Uh-huh, that’s nice, dear.”
“It’ll get easier with time, trust me.” Phil said with no small amount of mirth. “But I’ll make sure to come and visit soon. I want to see my little girl; it’s been a hard time being around all you boys all this time.”
Wilbur rolled his eyes, faking mock hurt as he placed a hand on his chest while he once again adjusted the phone, reaching in his other hand for Flora to play with as she made grabby hands. “How couldst thee f'rsake me liketh this? Doth I cullionly nothing to thee?”
“What?” His father huffed out a short, confused laugh. “Just… shut. You’re so dramatic, I swear.”
“Tsk, tsk. I am no such thing.” Wilbur said, wiggling his fingers and smiling as his daughter giggled. “I just… I hope I’m doing a good job.”
“Aw, mate. You are, I promise.” Phil cooed, and Wilbur closed his eyes, seeing the familiar face of warmth and love his father surely must be making right now. “I know it’s been hard since Sally… Since Sally passed, but you’re doing good. Besides, you’ll get better as time passes. It’s only been seven months; you’ll learn.”
Wilbur hummed, opening his eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah.”
Seven months. That’s how long it’d been since Sally died and Flora was brought into his life.
It had been extremely hectic at the beginning, planning for a death that had come all too soon while juggling the responsibilities of being a freshly minted father.
Wilbur had no idea how he managed to get this far, but at the very least he wasn’t alone.
While his family lived thousands of miles away, and all of them being extremely busy in their own rights, each and every one of them pitched in to help him with raising Flora, and his own friends were just as there for him.
Tommy made sure to call at least every other day, being a seventeen year old he didn’t have as much responsibilities as the others but that didn’t mean he was always free, being busy with college took a toll on him and he of course had his own personal life to live, though he adored Flora with all his heart.
“I’m the best uncle.” Tommy had boasted in one of their video calls, cooing at Flora as she made grabby hands towards the screen, babbling quietly. “See? Flora loves me the best.”
Techno, while infinitely busier than Tommy with both classes and work, still managed a call at least twice a month, one by himself and the other the family’s designated “monthly family talk”.
He was slightly awkward but sincere and cared just as much about his niece as Tommy did, though he showed that more through gifts he’d send the father-daughter duo than words.
Phil was sporadic with his calls, either calling once a day or once a month, but he was probably the most helpful of his family.
Having kids of his own definitely helped, and Wilbur could appreciate his upbeat, yet calm, optimism compared to Tommy’s brashness and Techno’s awkwardness.
Niki was probably the second most helpful; while younger than him by a few years, she’d helped her parents with her siblings and even babysat often for their neighbors whenever they needed it, so she had plenty of experience in her own right.
Not only that, but her softness was a great help in calming down Flora when Wilbur didn’t really know what to do and her soothing voice did wonders for quelling a crying child.
Schlatt was surprisingly gentle with Flora, even bringing her some new clothes and toys every now and again, which Wilbur appreciated though he did tease him just a bit every time… Though it didn’t really seem to bother Schlatt all that much, but still. The thought still counted.
Quackity and Charlie also helped from time to time, though they were slightly busier, Quackity with his lawyer degree and Charlie… Honestly, Wilbur didn’t know what Charlie did but the man did manage to keep himself fairly busy one way or another so how could he judge, really.
Regardless, all of them helped him out so much, and he loved and appreciated all of them endlessly.
“So, how are you? Looking at retirement homes yet?” Wilbur teased, bringing himself out of his fond memories.
“ Shut —”
Both of them laughed, and Wilbur felt himself lighten.
Yeah… this was fine. He was fine.
Everything would be okay.
-
“... three… two… one! Alright, I’m coming now!” Wilbur called out, a small smile on his lips when he heard his daughter giggle.
Turning around, he looked around the living room, making sure to be as slow and deliberate as possible.
“Hm… Where oh where could you be?” He sang out, his smile growing as he heard quiet shuffling nearby.
Purposefully ignoring it and walking away from it, he began searching the room.
Under the coffee table, behind the television, in the cabinets, he looked everywhere but where he knew his little girl was.
After about five minutes of doing that, he sighed, leaning back and shaking his head in faux defeat. “Man, I really can’t find her anywhere … She must be upstairs, then.”
Wilbur heard the quiet giggles again and made sure to make his footsteps purposefully loud so that she could hear him walking away.
Just as he was about to leave the living room, he heard the quiet creak of something opening before light footsteps rushed over to him and he felt the impact of a small body fling into him.
“Got'cha!” Flora cheered as she clung to her dad’s back, beaming with a light flush on her face, and Wilbur gasped dramatically, playing along with ease.
“Oh no! I was sure I’d get you this time!” Wilbur sighed, smiling as she giggled at him, allowing herself to be finagled into his arms as he held her up. “Oof. You’re getting pretty big now.”
Four years had passed by in a flash and now Wilbur held his growing daughter in his arms, a far cry from when she was a baby but endlessly adorable nonetheless.
Flora was showing signs of being a bit more tomboyish than what he assumed most little girls would be, preferring pants and shorts to skirts and dresses and insisting her room be colored a light shade of orange instead of pink when they moved.
Of course, Wilbur didn’t really have any other frame of reference so this could just be how all little girls acted but he had the strangest feeling that Flora was a bit different from both thoughts in his mind.
“Yep! Someday I’ll be as tall as you are.” She said proudly, puffing out her chest.
Wilbur laughed lightly. “I don’t know about that, starlight. But, this is, what, the fifth time in a row you’ve won?”
“Uh-huh! You’re really bad at this game, Dad.” Flora teased, a smug look on her face as she spoke.
He chuckled, booping her on her nose. “Oh, but of course. You’re my little champion, aren’t you?”
Flora swatted at his hand. “ Da-ad !”
Another laugh was pulled from him. “Sorry, sorry. Are you excited for school next year?”
She nodded eagerly. “Yep! I’ll make tons of new friends and we can all come over and talk and eat snacks and play games together.”
“Oh, sounds like a lot of fun.” Wilbur told her. “Don’t play around too much, okay? I don’t want a pile of tired children laying around my living room all the time.”
Flora rolled her eyes and Wilbur laughed, giving her a peck on the check which she squawked at.
-
“Dad! Dad! I finally did it!” Flora cheered as she rushed into the room, clearly antsy with excited anticipation.
Wilbur blinked, having just been working on some of the bills and not having expected his child to rush into his room as soon as she got home from school. “Oh? And what did you finally manage to do?”
“I-I got an A on my English test!” Flora said proudly, thrusting a slightly crumpled sheet on paper into his hands.
His eyes widened, and he looked down at the paper, seeing a red 96 on the top left corner, a smile on his face as he got up and picked her up, whirling her around slightly. Gods, she was getting heavy.
“That’s so good, sweetheart!” Wilbur cheered, pecking her all over her face as she squeaked at him, playfully batting at him to stop. “Look at my little champion go!”
“Da-ad!” Flora groaned, though she was smiling, too.
And, despite the lightheartedness of the situation, Wilbur felt a piece of sentimentalism settling within him, causing him to pause and leaving Flora to give him a confused look.
Eleven years had passed, and Flora was growing up healthy and strong.
A bit bullheaded and stubborn, but oh so loving and kind… Almost an exact replica of her mother. There were differences, of course.
The small dimple on her left cheek when Sally didn’t have any, the way she preferred strawberry milk to chocolate, how she would bite her index finger when nervous as a habit taken from him instead of her mother…
Small little things that made Flora who she was, yet all the similarities that undoubtedly showed she was her mother’s child.
“I’m so, so proud of you.” Wilbur whispered to her, bringing her in for a hug. “I love you.”
Flora, despite not quite understanding what was going on, hugged him back, whispering a quiet, “I love you, too.”
Closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath to steady himself, he pulled back, giving his daughter the brightest smile he could as he said, “well, looks like it’s time for a celebration!”
His daughter cheered, eagerly asking if they could go out to eat, which Wilbur obviously agreed to.
Anything for his little champion.
-
“You just don’t understand !” Flora screamed, face red with anger and frustration, brilliant green eyes glistening with tears.
Wilbur sighed, rubbing his temples to try and calm the upcoming headache. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”
And he really didn’t.
Ever since Flora turned thirteen, it was like a flip was switched.
Instead of being the nice, loveable child from before, she turned bitter and angry, snapping at him almost daily and yelling at him about anything and everything. Nothing ever seemed to make her happy and he always seemed to be doing something wrong in her eyes.
He wanted to help, he really, truly did, but Flora would not give him any leeway, any hint as to what caused her to be so upset.
“Flora, please—” He didn’t manage to get another word out, noticing that upon saying her name she flinched, as if it physically hurt her to hear it, which pained him.
“Don’t—I don’t like it.” Flora seethed, glaring at him.
“Don’t like what?” Wilbur asked gently, trying his best to not set her off again.
“I just… I don’t like it. I don’t—I don’t… like that name.” Another stab in the chest.
“I don’t understand.” Wilbur began, torn between confused and hurt, though he did his best to keep from showing that as to not upset his daughter any further.
“Of course you don’t.” Flora scoffed, fingers trembling with rage. “You’ll never understand.”
“Then explain it to me!” He finally snapped, unable to keep up with her sense of logic any longer. “Gods fucking dammit , Flora, I’m fucking trying —but I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong!”
“Who said I wanted your help?” Flora shot back. “You’ve never done anything for me anyways! You’re always at work or in your room, you barely even talk to me anymore!”
“What do you mean I’ve ‘never done anything for you’? I’ve raised you myself, clothed and fed you! How is that ‘doing nothing’?”
“Anyone could have done that! That hardly makes you special!”
“Then what more do you want for me? Tell me so I can fucking understand!”
“I want you to go away !”
“Flora—”
“ Don’t say that name.” She hissed, tears now freely falling down her face. “I see the way you look at me. How you compare me to my mom. I’ve seen her pictures—we look exactly alike, don’t we?”
“What are you—”
“And it’s because of me she’s gone, isn’t it?” Her words caused him to freeze, blood running cold as she continued onward. “She died because of me…”
Wilbur frowned. “Flora, that’s not—”
“Don’t bother. We both know it’s true. And you wished it was me who took her place, right?” Flora snapped, and Wilbur felt the blood drain from his face.
“What? Where did you even get that from?” He asked, genuinely bewildered. “I never once thought that way!”
Flora huffed, rolling her eyes. “Whatever. Just… leave me alone. I don’t want to see your stupid face anymore.”
“Flora—”
“Shut up !” Flora screamed. “I hate you!”
And with that, the door slammed shut behind her, leaving Wilbur to wallow in his own guilt and shame, wondering where exactly he went wrong.
-
“I just… I just don’t know where I went wrong.” Wilbur’s quivering voice came from behind the door, thick and teary as he spoke, clearly trying to hold back tears.
“I’m sure she’s just going through her rebellious phase.” Phil’s voice sounded a few seconds later, a bit staticy yet understood clearly.
“I thought her ‘rebellious phase’ would be staying out later and playing violent video games.” Wilbur laughed wetly. “Not… not saying she thought I wanted her to be dead .”
Phil winced, brows tightening as his face scrunched up. “I… Yeah. That… That’s a bit rough, innit?”
“Where did she even get that idea from? I never… Never, ever once thought of that.” Wilbur breathed, blinking tears away. “I love her so… so fucking much.”
“I know you do, Wil. I know you do.”
“Did I really do something wrong? I probably did, if she’s feeling that way… Gods, I didn’t—I never wanted her to feel like this, Phil. Ever . I know I’m not the best dad, but I—I thought I was doing alright. That I wasn’t as big of a fuck up that I am.”
“You’re not a ‘fuck up’, Wil. You’re doing amazing. So many people couldn’t, wouldn’t , be doing even half the things you’re doing for your little girl.”
“Then why are things like this? If—If I’d just been paying more attention, if I spent more time with her—”
“We both know you’re working two full time jobs and one half time to keep that roof over your head and still have enough money left over to get her anything she might want, don’t you even start with me young man. If you didn’t do that your situation would be a hell of a lot worse than it already is.”
“... I just… I love her, Phil.”
“I know.”
“I wish I could be around for her more.”
“I know.”
“I wish I knew what was wrong so I could try and fix it.”
“I know.”
“I… I’m so, so, so sorry, Flora… I’m sorry that I’m such a shitty dad…”
Flora slowly walked away from her father’s bedroom door, not wanting to bother him as he cried his heart out to her grandfather.
Entering her own room, she shut the door and slid down it as she sat down, burying her head in her knees, tears falling freely down her face.
“I’m sorry, Dad…” She whispered. “I’m so, so sorry…”
-
“... Dad, I have something to talk to you about.”
Wilbur flinched, staring down at the papers on his desk, slowly turning around to see his daughter at his bedroom door.
It’d been two years since their biggest fight, and, while Flora had come later last year and apologized for it, there was still some awkwardness between the two.
Things had gotten better, but Wilbur still desperately tried to do his best to do better, be better.
He quit his part time job, the job itself not entirely necessary as it was just a way to make some extra cash, and he did his best to try and be there for Flora whenever she might need him, though it was still hard to do with his other two jobs but he did his best to manage somehow.
Now, with her standing there, reddish-orange hair tied in a low, messy bun, loose white t-shirt hanging from her shoulders and black basketball shorts, she looked so much like Sally it hurt.
He quickly shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts—that’s exactly the kind of thoughts that got him into this mess in the first place.
Instead, he did his best to give her a warm, open smile, gesturing towards his bed. “Of course.”
Flora didn’t hesitate, walking over and plopping down on his bed, bobbing up and down slightly for a second or two. She clenched her hands together, slowly rubbing her thumbs together, another nervous tick she’d picked up from him.
Wilbur waited patiently, not wanting to rush her, this being one of the few conversations Flora had started on her own in a long time.
However, he was worried—clearly this was going to be quite the serious conversation. Did something happen? Was something wrong?
These sorts of questions flew around his mind without any sort of restriction, and he could feel his pulse quicken, but he kept his outer appearance calm and collected, simply waiting for her to speak first.
“I… I don’t… I don’t think…” Flora fumbled with her words, slowly getting frustrated when her mouth refused to cooperate with her mind.
“It’s okay, take your time. I’m not going anywhere.” He told her, doing his best to try and soothe her unease.
Flora’s bottom lip trembled and her breath hitched. “I… I know. It’s just… Promise you won’t get mad?”
Wilbur frowned slightly but quickly wiped that expression away. “Of course.”
She nodded, still not looking at him, nervously playing with her fingers instead. “I, um… Do you remember our last fight, when I said I didn’t like… like my name?”
The thought still pained him but he nodded regardless. “I do.”
A quiet wince. “Um, right. Well, um… I think… I think I finally have an answer as to why I don’t like it.”
Wilbur blinked, surprised. “Pardon?”
“I just—for a long time, I never really felt, um, comfortable , with that name.” She explained, rubbing her thumb gently. “I, um, I didn’t like how it was too, uh, girly , in a sense… And I… I didn’t—I don’t like being called a girl…”
Wilbur’s mind raced as he tried to keep up with what she was saying. “Wait, so… you don’t like being called a girl?”
Flora shook her head. “No, I, uh… I don’t. It… It makes me uncomfortable. Like-Like I have millions of ants crawling all over my skin.”
The analogy made him wrinkle his nose in distaste but it did the job of explaining how she was feeling to him. “Is that so… Well… What do you want to be called?”
His question made Flora pause, tilting her head to the side as he chewed her lip in thought. “I… I think I want… to be a boy.”
“A boy?” Out of all the things that Flora could have spoken to him about today, this was nowhere near the top of the list. Honestly, he wasn’t sure it was on the list at all.
“I just—I don’t like being called a girl, and I… I always thought how cool it would be if I were a boy, and the thought of being a boy makes me happy—” She hurriedly tried to explain.
“... That… How long have you been feeling like this?” He asked, breaking her from her ramble.
Flora looked over at him, seemingly surprised by his calm demeanor. “Oh, uh… For as long as I can remember, honestly. I never really liked skirts or dresses and while I don’t really mind pink it’s not really the color for me, you know? And… And my body feels uncomfortable, gross . I… I don’t like looking at it, most days.”
The idea of his child not liking the look of their own body saddened Wilbur, and he immediately felt guilty for not noticing sooner. “Why tell me now? Did… Did you not trust me?”
It was a fair enough question. While Wilbur wasn’t completely in the know-how of these things, he does know a bit about it, how people feel like they were born in the wrong body or have the wrong gender, and how they wished they weren’t anything but what they were, or maybe even just slightly different.
And he’d heard some horror stories of parents and guardians alike throwing insults at their children, at the people who they thought loved them only to be cast aside like some sort of freak.
Wilbur never thought he gave any of those sorts of vibes—he was always pretty open about these things and never complained or spoke dirty about them behind their backs mainly because why should he care? It didn’t affect him, personally, and it made them happy so, really, it was a win-win all around.
But… Maybe he wasn’t vocal enough about it? Neither of them really spoke about these sorts of things, so the topic of whether or not he supported it never popped up, but maybe he should have said something sooner?
It was a useless thought, especially considering he never even knew Flora was feeling this way until now, but still. Guilt didn’t always come with a sense of logic.
Flora quickly shook her head. “It’s not—It’s not that . I didn’t really think you’d have a problem with it… Kind of. I guess… I guess the fear was still there, but I didn’t even know this was what I was feeling until now.”
“Oh.” A mixture of relief and guilt swirled inside of him. “That… Am I the first person you’ve talked to about this?”
Flora flushed before nodding slightly. “I… Yeah.”
A wave of love and warmth washed over his insecurities, slowly drowning them out though not completely. “Oh. Well… Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I…” Flora paused, hesitation showing up once more. “I… Can you refer to me as a boy, from now on?”
“A boy? Is that all?” Wilbur prodded gently.
Flora hesitated a little while longer before adding, “... name. Can I… Can I change my name?”
While he suspected that might be on the list, it still hurt, though his child’s feelings were infinitely more important than his own.
“Of course. Do you have any in mind?” Wilbur asked.
Another pause, another shake of the head. “No…”
Wilbur smiled at her—at him gently. “Then… How about Fundy?”
Wide green eyes blinked up at him owlishly. “Fundy?”
“Your mother and I came up with names in case we had either a boy or a girl.” Wilbur explained, a soft smile on his lips. “I came up with Flora, and Sally came up with Fundy. Is that name alright?”
“Fundy…” Testing that name on he—his lips, a light Wilbur hadn’t seen in a long time shone in those beautiful green orbs as a smile spread across he—his lips. “Fundy… I like it.”
Wilbur smiled. “Fundy it is, then.”
And Fundy beamed at him.
It wasn’t quite an apology, and not everything was fixed right away, but it was a start. And Wilbur vowed to do better this time.
-
Another two years passed and Fundy was now a seventeen year old, looking around for colleges and applying to as many of them as he possibly could, though of course he held out for his preferences.
Wilbur had done quite a bit of research into how to properly care for his son, including binders and even packages, which Fundy was endlessly embarrassed about but gave him a bone-crushing hug for, so Wilbur considered it a win.
He helped his son come out to the rest of his family and friends, all of which were supportive of him and no one turned him away or cursed him out for it, which caused Fundy to tear up multiple times over.
“Look at our big man!” Tommy cheered when Wilbur connected them to the call, Fundy flushing in embarrassment when Tommy began his usual charade of complimenting the poor teen to the moon and back. “I swear—have you gotten taller?”
“Yep.” Fundy said proudly, giving his uncle a smug smirk. “Looks like the T is doing its job.”
Tommy grumbled but everyone could tell he wasn’t actually upset. “Fuckin’ trees, the both of you. What kind of biased bullshit is this?”
Wilbur laughed. “Good to see you, too, Tommy.”
Phil and Techno joined the call a few minutes later, and everyone was enjoying a somewhat calm conversation, though Tommy always managed to keep them on their toes.
“How are the college applications going?” Techno asked, reddish-brown eyes staring directly at Fundy.
Fundy huffed, rolling his eyes. “Everyone’s taking so long to reply. They should just hand over their answers to me, like, right now.”
“That’s now how applications work, mate.” Phil laughed fondly, shaking his head. “Any colleges you’ve got your eye on?”
“Well, the Essempii University is my first choice, obviously.” Fundy said.
“Essempii University? Isn’t that where, like, the super smart people go?” Tommy asked, frowning slightly.
“Yeah.” Fundy nodded.
“Then I don’t think you’ll be getting in any time soon. Sorry, kid.”
“Hey!”
“Be nice, Tommy.” Phil chided lightly, though he was smiling all the same. “That’s a good choice, Fundy.”
Wilbur blinked, just remembering something. “Oh, shit—I haven’t checked the mail today.”
“Where the fuck did that come from?”
“Hush, gremlin child. I’ll be right back!”
“I’m not a fuckin’ child!”
“We’ll be here, mate.”
“Whatever.”
“Have fun, Dad!”
Wilbur rolled his eyes fondly before running out, quickly grabbing the mail inside before hurrying back in.
Sorting through them as he walked back to the living room, cringing slightly at the surprising amount of spam mail, he paused, noticing Fundy’s name on one of them.
It was an unassuming enough note, and Wilbur was pleased seeing the name ‘Fundy’ being written—or, typed —out, since getting his name changed was surprisingly a hassle to do but absolutely worth it seeing his son smile.
Shaking his head, he walked over to his son, handing him the letter. “Mail for our friendly neighborhood fox.”
Fundy rolled his eyes at the dumb inside joke between the two of them, taking the letter and, after checking it over, carelessly opened it.
“Hey, be careful, what if it’s important?” Phil told him.
“It’ll be fine.” Fundy told him flippantly, waving his concerns off.
Phil sighed while Wilbur and Tommy sniggered, Techno even cracking a small smile.
Pulling out the paper inside, Fundy blinked owlishly, quickly reading over what it was, oddly silent.
“Well? What is it?” Tommy asked impatiently.
“I… I got accepted.” Fundy said breathlessly, a mixture of disbelief and awe on his face.
“Accepted? What? Where?” Wilbur asked, grabbing the paper from his son’s hands.
“Essempii University… I got accepted!” Fundy cheered, and everyone hurriedly congratulated him.
“Wait, seriously? Are you for real? Fucking congrats, man!” Tommy grinned.
“Congratulations.” Techno said.
“Congrats, Fundy! I’m so proud of you, mate!” Phil told him, smiling at him warmly.
“Aw, my little champion!” Wilbur cooed, playfully ruffling the redhead’s hair.
“Hey! Knock it off!” Fundy told him, batting his hand away, everyone laughing at their antics.
“But seriously. I’m so proud of you, Fundy.” Wilbur smiled, and Fundy beamed back at him.
“I know. Thanks, Dad.”
-
Fundy sat there on his couch, staring at the black screen of the television blankly.
Everything had been going so well.
He and his dad had slowly been picking up the pieces of their relationship after his outburst all those years ago, and he even managed to come out to his dad, which Wilbur had been endlessly loving and supportive of him in his decision to do so.
After finding out he’d be accepted, Fundy decided the next step was to find a place closer to the university, riding on the coattails of his few scholarships that should be able to pay for his tuition and find a relatively low-demanding job to help pay for bills and rent.
Having figured all that out, he moved and that was that. Wilbur even helped him move his stuff, though he jokingly complained the entire time.
Now, a few months after his eighteenth birthday, Wilbur was dead.
A terrible highway accident.
The specific details were unknown, but Wilbur apparently died on impact.
Fundy felt numb the entire time.
From the moment he was told the news to the moment they laid his father in his grave, Fundy felt numb.
Then, he cried.
He screamed, he demanded to know why his father was taken from him.
Why?
Things were going so well.
Why? Why, why, why, why, why, why —
Why him?
Why Wilbur?
Why?
A ring at his doorbell and Fundy felt himself slowly getting up, not that he could really feel as though he was the one actually in charge.
Opening the front door, he saw Grandpa, Phil, standing there, a small, sad smile on his lips.
“Hey, Fundy.” He greeted quietly. “Can I come in?”
Fundy didn’t say anything, simply letting the man in.
Phil closed the door behind him and gently led Fundy back to his couch, the entire time the red headed man was entirely out of it, there yet not.
The two of them sat there for a while in silence, the only sound coming from the traffic in the streets below.
After a few moments, Phil spoke up, soft and quiet. “Wilbur really loved you, you know?”
Fundy closed his eyes, not wanting to talk about his father yet.
A week.
It’s only been a week since they buried him.
Yet it feels like a lifetime ago.
“He would always call me to brag about you, even as a child.” Phil told him. “‘Have you seen what Flora did? She’s so clever—got all A’s on her last report card’!”
Fundy didn’t call him out on using his old name. Besides, it was what he was called then—he could handle it, for that.
“And he… He was so uncertain of what to do when you came out.” Phil continued, a small smile on his lips. “He’d always panic, wondering if he should get the bandages or binder, if you were upset when he accidentally misgendered you when he first started calling you by your preferred gender… It was cute, seeing a grown man like him act like a panicked teenager.”
He went silent again, probably digging up more old, fond memories.
“He even saved up for your surgeries.” Phil told him after a few seconds of silence. “A separate account for each of them. He called me every time, saying, ‘Dad, I’m so close! Fundy’s top surgery funds are so close to being done!’; ‘Phil, did you know bottom surgery is so expensive? I mean, anything for Fundy, but still! Highway robbery!’”
The man chuckled as he thought of those fond memories.
Fundy couldn’t help the small quirk of his lips as well, hearing his dad being so genuinely worried about things like that. His chest felt warm, then ice cold—Wilbur truly did love him… and he… He was a horrible son in return.
“Don’t start with that.” Phil chided him, lifting up his chin, Fundy looking over at him with watering eyes. “I know what you’re thinking—stop it.”
“I… I was so… horrible to him.” Fundy gasped quietly, tears pooling in his eyes.
“I won’t lie and say you weren’t a bit… harsh .” Phil agreed softly. “But we both know Wilbur would never want you to blame yourself. He loved you, you know that.”
Fundy wanted to continue to argue, but the look in Phil’s eyes made him hold his tongue.
Phil smiled at him gently. “There was something I wanted to give to you.”
Fundy frowned slightly in confusion as Phil rummaged through his pockets before placing something in the palm of his hand.
Looking down, Fundy noted he was just given a flash drive.
At his confused expression, Phil laughed gently. “This is something Wilbur wanted to give to you when you turned twenty-one. It… Well, he gave it to me when you came out to me, saying it wasn’t necessary anymore, but… I’m sure you’d appreciate it nonetheless.”
Fundy didn’t know what to say, simply staring at the drive in his hand blankly.
“... We love you, Fundy.” Phil told him softly. “Don’t keep putting yourself down like this. We’re here whenever you need us, alright?”
“... yeah. I know.” Fundy whispered.
Phil smiled at him, gently kissing him on his forehead, and Fundy closed his eyes, willing the tears away at how familiar that action was.
“I love you, my little champion.”
-
Plugging in the flash drive, he was surprised to see it had some sort of password locking it.
He was stumped—Grandpa didn’t say anything about this.
Taking a guess, he wasn’t surprised to see he got it wrong.
He didn’t want to risk locking himself out permanently, and he didn’t want to bother Grandpa, so he sat there, thinking about what it could possibly be.
…
Wait…
“This is something Wilbur wanted to give to you when you turned twenty-one. It… Well, he gave it to me when you came out to me, saying it wasn’t necessary anymore, but… I’m sure you’d appreciate it nonetheless.”
After he came out.
Then, could the password be…?
No, it couldn’t be that simple.
… could it?
Hesitantly, he began to type what he thought it was into it, and…
It worked.
He was now able to access the flash drive, which only had one file on it.
“Flora”.
That was the name of the file.
And the same name was the exact password he used to get into it.
A choked laugh caught in his throat as he shook his head. “Stupid…”
After a few moments to gather himself, he opened the file, surprised to find it to be a video.
What appeared on his screen was his dad—much younger, of course, with a youthfulness Fundy had never seen on him before.
“Shit, fuck—Great way to start the video, huh? Well, whatever. Maybe she’ll appreciate this, find it funny or something.” Wilbur muttered under his breath as stumbled, sitting down, though, despite its poor quality, the microphone managed to capture it anyway.
Fundy stared as his father adjusted the guitar in his lap, something he’d never seen his dad have even once in his life. Did… Did his dad used to play guitar?
“Ahem. Anyway. I, uh… This is probably dumb, but… I just got… Sentimental, I guess. I went and wrote a song for a kid I don’t even know if I’ll ever have.” Wilbur laughed, and Fundy’s heart tightened at the familiar sound of it. “Though I don’t know what my child’s name will be, I want my first girl to be called Flora… It’s a pretty name. I hope she’ll like it, too.”
His words only hurt more to hear now.
“Uh, right. Song.” Wilbur rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I don’t know if it’ll be any good, but hopefully Flora will like it anyway. I’m, uh, a bit out of practice, so forgive me if it sounds like shit—oh, wait, fuck, I shouldn’t be cursing—shit, I did it again—wait, fuck —”
Fundy laughed wetly at his father’s clumsy antics, tears threatening to spill already.
“ Ahem . I’ll just get to it.” Clearing his throat and strumming the strings, Wilbur began to sing:
“Dear Flora, I hope you like your name
I hope they don't make fun of you
When you grow up and go to school, okay?
'Cause Flora is a badass name
Dear Flora, I hope you talk to boys
Or girls or anyone you like
I just hope you don't stay in every night
'Cause I wish I was out tonight
It really doesn't seem like there's anyone for me
But dear Flora, I hope you like your name
I'm hoping that someday, I can meet you on this earth
But shit, I gotta meet your mom first.”
Another wet laugh escaped Fundy’s lips, and this time a tear.
“Dear Flora, I hope you like this song
And even when you're thirteen
And you scream at me for parenting you wrong
I hope it's still a badass song.”
That hit him deep, tears rolling down even faster as he remembered the horrible way he treated his father when he was thirteen.
“It really doesn't seem like there's anyone for me
But dear Flora, I hope you like your name
You know I cannot wait to teach you how to curse
But shit, I gotta meet your mom first
Dear Flora, don't move too far away
And please don't say I'm hovering
When I text you to ask about your day
I wanna hear about your day.”
Fundy remembered the way Wilbur would complain that he was moving too far away, and how Fundy brushed him off by saying he could call or visit any time he wanted.
Oh, how foolish he had been then.
“Will we still hang out and talk
When I'm no longer in charge
Oh, dear Flora, I hope you like your name
I hope you let me take a shot with you on your 21st
But shit, you gotta ask your mom first
Dear Flora, I'm looking for your mom
I gotta find a girl that doesn't mind
That I'm inside my head a lot
Flora, it won't be too long
First, I just gotta find your mom.”
“I don’t, Dad.” Fundy whispered under his breath, gasping for air as he sobbed. “I don’t like it… Not for me, at least.” He closed his eyes, letting the tears rain down freely. “But… it is a pretty name. I’m sorry you wasted it on me.”
He sat there, in his room, crying, wishing now more than ever he could hear the sound of rain pouring down.
At least, then, he wouldn’t be alone in his tears.
-
“Hey, Dad…?”
Fundy looked down at his child, an uncertain expression etched across a worried face.
He smiled gently. “Yes, son?”
His son paused, taking a moment to gather himself. “I… I don’t think… I want to be a boy anymore.”
And Fundy had a strange feeling of deja vu. However, this time, he made sure his children knew that they were free to express themselves from the very start, never having been one for being too strict on gender rules.
“Oh? And what do you feel like being?” Fundy asked.
“... I think… I want to be a girl.” His child admitted quietly.
“A girl, huh?” Fundy pondered for a moment. “Anything in particular you’d like to be called, then?”
He— She shook her head. “N-No… I couldn’t come up with anything…”
Fundy smiled at her, lowering himself so that they were at eye level. “Well… Should I come up with one for you?”
A small nod.
Fundy smiled, a faint memory of warm hands running through his hair as a child resurfacing.
“Then… How about Flora?”