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there was a coldness to wilbur's room. he didn't quite notice it himself, but when guests went in they complain about goosebumps and shivers.
the walls were beige and the bed was brown, the room was cold and wilbur was numb. that day been a bad one; overall, a bad week, actually. one where sleep came fleetingly and his hunger disappeared every time he looked at the fridge. getting out of bed was a monumental task and staying out of it was almost impossible.
he was heavy, a weight on his chest pushing him into the ground incessantly. he watched the hours go by with apathy and a certain numbness. his phone buzzed and buzzed with concerned messages, to the point where wilbur turned on 'do not disturb' mode just to get away from it all.
the food he ate sat heavy in his stomach, uncomfortable and unwanted. his days blurred together as he slept all day and night, only really getting up to eat the occasional meal (small stuff, like a bowl of cereal or a slice of toast).
and then, one day, he woke up to someone laying next to him.
he finally understood what people meant when they called his room cold; now that he had the warmth of another person resting on his side, the air around him was absolutely freezing.
nose buried into the crook between wilbur's neck and shoulder laid tommy. for a second, wilbur sat in complete bewilderment. then his heart warmed.
tommy , it sang, adoring and content, tommy is here. it beat with love-family-brother .
and then tommy made a little noise, snuggling closer, and wilbur smiled for the first time in days. it was almost uncomfortable seeing tommy here; this little ray of sunshine in his grey, underwhelming room.
he slipped out of bed, careful not to disrupt tommy's sleep. tommy being here gave him motivation; he grabbed a change of clothes and walked to his bathroom.
he showered. it was weird, and it felt amazing. the warm water was heavenly, and he felt a million times better than before. he washed his hair, scrubbing hard to get the filth out, and then went on to soap.
being clean was amazing. putting on fresh clothes was also really nice. when he got out of the bathroom, tommy was sat up in bed, scrolling on his phone. he looked up when wilbur walked in, turning off his phone and setting it down.
"hi," he said, voice gentle.
wilbur smiled, "hi, tommy. how are you?"
tommy audibly blinked. "i'm alright," the blond said, "my brother isn't feeling good, so i'm a little worried about him, but other than that i'm doing well."
a sharp pang of guilt hit wilbur square in the gut, and he replied, "well, my absolute sweetheart of a little brother came to visit me today so i'm doing quite dandy," at tommy's little smile, he continued, "you should meet him. you two would get on well."
as soon as tommy got up, there were arms wrapped around wilbur's neck in a second, "wilbur," tommy whispered, sad and relieved all at the same time. there was an unspoken 'i missed you' hanging between them.
wilbur's body ached with guilt. "i'm sorry, baby," he kissed the top of tommy's head, muttering, "you must've been so scared."
"not scared," tommy said, pulling himself closer, resting his forehead against wilbur's shoulder, "just worried. i don't want you to be sad, and i definitely don't want you to be alone."
wilbur just about melted. "i don't deserve you," he mumbled, eyes falling shut as he savored the warmth of his little brother's hug.
"you deserve the world," tommy recited, "though it feels like we were built–"
"from the same," they sang together, smiling just a bit, "dirt."
"oh, darling," wilbur clung harder, heart bursting at the seams with love, "sunshine. you're too good for me, toms."
"stop it," tommy mumbled, "none of that self-deprecating shit. we're going to cuddle, and it's going to be lovely, and when you wake up you'll realize that i'm here to carry this weight with you, because i love you and it's what you deserve."
wilbur inhaled shakily, confessing, "it feels like i'm sinking, tommy. like everyday gravity gets stronger and stronger, like i'm meant to be dead and in the ground."
tommy made a wounded noise, "but you're not. you're meant to be alive. that's why your hearts beating and your brain's functioning; your body wants you alive."
"tommy, it's–"
"i want you alive, wil," tommy finished, pulling away to stare him dead in the eyes, "and your head can tell you that you're not meant to be here a million times, but it's lying, and i'll reassure you of that a billion times."
wilbur's eyes welled with tears. he remembered weeks of struggling with his depression alone, tearing at his own hair and neglecting his body for days at a time. he remembered praying to anything for it to stop, for things to get better.
and there tommy was, a gift from the heavens themselves. a ray of sunshine, all sweet words and concerned looks and soft hands holding his. it was almost too much, how much he didn't deserve this boy.
"i love you," wilbur stated, a gross understatement, "thank you."
"any time, wilby," tommy promised, and wilbur just fucking melts.
"wilby," he echoed, lips tugging into a smile, "what a brotherly nickname."
"very brotherly, indeed," tommy agreed, "do you want to go on a walk, or do you just want to cuddle a bit? we can watch one of those obscure foreign movies you love so much."
"a movie sounds good," wilbur said, sitting on the bed and moving down so that tommy had space. the boy immediately attached himself to wilbur's side happily, which made wilbur smile even harder.
he loves you, his heart sung.
you don't deserve him, his brain shot at the same time.
and then tommy looked up at him with that soft, loving expression that seemed exclusively reserved for his big brother and wilbur thought, no. i must've done something right to make him look at me like that.
they watched a movie, and then another, and then tommy suggested going out for dinner and wilbur found himself with the newfound will to go.
when tommy left, three days later, it was with the promise of coming back again soon, and the warmth he left behind at wilbur's flat was enough to keep the room's chill away for days.