Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

College. The place most highschoolers go to get their hopes and dreams crushed by plummeting grades and too-high tuitions. The place where people learn that coffee doesn’t actually taste that bad, and the place where bad habits are picked up easily. There are some ups and downs to the place- having freedom from parents and more opportunities to make friends, parties and a flexible schedule. To Wilbur- it was just draining.

If he could, he would’ve skipped the whole process of learning and submitting assignments and getting a good score- go straight to the earning real money part- but no. Of course he couldn’t. Because apparently, most jobs require a degree. Something you can only get if you go to college.

Wilbur mutters bitterly to himself as he dragged his suitcase across the asphalt while crossing his college campus, idly observing many other students flittering around him as they prepared for the new semester to start.

You could tell who’s new here and who wasn’t- the freshmen scurrying around with their friends trying to find their way, almost buzzing with nervousness and excitement. The college experience was new and glorified to them. New and exciting. They finally get to enjoy their newfound freedom and hang out with their friends.

Wilbur resisted laughing at a group of cheerful freshmen passing by. They wouldn’t be cheerful for long.

Nearly everyone else was dead on their feet, dreading the work the new semester would bring. Wilbur has to admit, the break had done wonders for his mental health and complexion, as it usually did for everyone else as well. Just being away from this place was healing in all honesty. Before the break, it was like a breath of fresh air as soon as he stepped off campus, and now that he’s back, he can’t help but feel a headache coming on already. 

It didn’t matter much. He knew soon enough he’d be as good as a walking corpse- nearly brain dead from all the work and practice he’ll be doing, holed up in his dorm every night until the birds begin to sing.

It’s safe to say Wilbur isn’t very happy to be back.

Wilbur grunted and hoisted his special guitar case further up his back, keeping a steady grip on the strap in front.

It’s his third year at this stupid fucking place. He had a bit of resentment for school in general, but it only grew after he enrolled in college. It was partially the work; being a music major involved way too much effort than Wilbur thought was necessary- and what made it worse was dorming with a roommate. The college is too far away from his parents house for him to drive there and back everyday, so he had to choose between the dorm fee or paying in full for an apartment. The choice was pretty obvious. The dorm had been cheaper to cover and stay in, that cost being shoved in with his tuition fees, but it was less expensive than an apartment, and that was all that had mattered to him. He hadn’t thought about the possibility of having a roommate until it was too late.

Wilbur nearly cringed where he was walking in public just thinking about him. His last roommate had been a drug addict, nearly always staying up in the late hours partying and getting drunk with his pals. Wilbur would usually be the one to make sure the guy didn’t actually die, listening to his drunk ramblings while trying and failing to put him to bed.

He never pulled his weight, never cleaning up after himself and letting the dorm room become a pigsty- Wilbur resented him. Resents him. Present tense.

Lucky for Wilbur, he managed to switch rooms this year, and best of all, he is by himself. Unless there’s a split second change, this year should be stress free. At least on the people end of the spectrum. No roommates mean he’s allowed to do his work in peace.

He’s actually on his way to the dorms right now, weaving past the other students that trickled past him like a steady stream. Being too lost in his thoughts, he didn’t even notice he was about to ram into a freshman until it was too late.

Wilbur stumbles back as they collided into eachother, the freshman falling to the ground, dropping the duffel bag they were carrying with a loud clatter. Wilbur hears the freshman curse loudly before they scramble to their feet and fret over the red and black duffle bag carefully, unzipping it and checking around.

Wilbur stands awkwardly a few paces away. The freshman seems to be on the younger side with curly golden hair and bright blue eyes, currently widened in concerned as he frets over his bag. Wilbur shifts on his feet.

It’s just a bag, but okay.

He just wants to go to his dorm and collapse in exhaustion. That’s all he wanted to do. Getting here was a journey enough.

The freshman was still fretting over the bag from the repeated jostling he was doing-

Wilbur could just.. walk away.

He could totally do that right now.

And so he did. He shuffles away from the blonde, stepping around him and treading carefully away. The freshman’s head snaps up and Wilbur bit down his groan of frustration.

“Hey DICKHEAD!”

Ducking his head down, Wilbur ignores the freshman and begins to speed walk- trying to get to his dorm faster. He only faltered in his fast pace at the sound of pounding footsteps, ratty sneakers slapping against hard concrete coming closer and closer.

Alarmingly closer-

Before Wilbur could comprehend what was happening, he is knocked forward by someone ramming into his back- his knees and forearms met harsh concrete and the wind was knocked out of him. His rolling suitcase fell to the ground with a loud and distracting thud and his guitar weighed him down on his back.

Wilbur’s mind spun as he tried to figure out what the fuck just happened-

“That what you fucking get, prick.”

Wilbur scrambles to his knees, squinting up at the figure blocking the sun.

It’s that freshman again, a cocky grin on his face as he stood proudly, blue eyes squinted in mirth. Wilbur blinks dumbly.

Did he just shove him over-

“What the fuck.”

The kid’s grin only widens and Wilbur looks around confused. People were beginning slowing down around them, looking at the disturbance and Wilbur shrinks back, ears red in embarrassment.

The blonde snickers before outstretching a hand goodnaturedly to pull him up. Wilbur being Wilbur, scowls and swats the hand away before pulling himself up on his own.

“What was that for?!” Wilbur asks with a hiss, glaring down at the cheeky freshman. The freshman only shrugs in dismissal.

“You shoved me down first, big man. I’m only repaying the favor.”

Wilbur’s head is still spinning and a hot anger rose within him- who does this kid think he is-

Technically Wilbur did shove him down first-

But that was an accident! This freshman literally did it on purpose-

“It was an accident.” Wilbur seethed, trying to keep his voice controlled and level as to not bring anymore attention to himself. The freshman rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, and you didn’t even apologize, fucking prick.”

Wilbur didn’t have time for this.

With one last glare, he turned on his heel and headed for the dorms again, leaving the blonde in the dust. He ignores the small pool of guilt in his gut, knowing he probably deserved to be knocked down a peg. But- then again, it’s kind of a rule of thumb to just- mind your own business in college. The blonde freshman broke it. And then he embarrassed Wilbur.

Wilbur shrugs it off. He’s just another college kid that will end up blending into the crowd of all the other tired college kids. It didn’t matter. Wilbur won’t ever see that kid again.

Soon enough, Wilbur is marching in the dorm building like usual, easily falling into the routine steps to his dorm, so much so that it is almost bitter nostalgia. Except, he won’t be going to his old dorm this time. He has a new dorm now by himself. An entirely new room, all to himself. Wilbur smiles at the thought.

At least he has that going for him.

He should probably contact Phil and Techno and see when their classes are so they can find a time to meet up. He had met the two the year before, and he’s happy to say they’re his best friends. They fell into a routine of studying in the library together at least twice a week if they’re not busy, that way they can stay on top of their homework and hang out with each other at the same time.

Wilbur has other friends that he’s made through college, like Niki or Jack, but Phil and Techno were the people to go to if he’s had a bad day. They knew exactly how to rationalize with him, how to calm him down and offer simpler solutions to the complex problems he’d been breaking down in his head. He is glad to be their friend.

He should text them soon.

After hauling his rolling suitcase up the steps as quietly as he could, Wilbur dug his hand into the pockets of his jeans and fished out a folded paper, crumpled and worn from how often Wilbur peered over at it, rechecking and memorizing.

It’s his schedule. It has the times of his classes and what classes he’s required to take, along with all his professors names and emails. Most importantly, it has his dorm number on it, right up in the corner next to his name.

203.

Second floor, third down. Not too bad.

Wilbur walks down the carpeted hallway, swerving to the side when other college kids pass him with their own bags, ready to settle back into dorm life. Of course, there were some people who stayed at the college during break instead of going back to their families. Wilbur almost wishes he did that- that way it wouldn’t be such a hassle to unpack everything he’d brought with him.

When Wilbur finally steps in front of Room 203, there are two people standing by the room next to his, trying to get in their room. One is extremely tall- even taller than Wilbur himself, and Wilbur’s already pretty tall- and is wearing a split white and black mask. The other is comically shorter than him, his fluffy brown hair covering his eyes completely. Wilbur wonders how he can see through the mess of tangled hair.

After a couple moments of struggling, the two finally unlock the door and head in, the taller one helping the shorter one carry his stuff in. The door shuts with a loud click, and the hallway is empty once again.

Guess those are his neighbors.

Wilbur turns back to his dorm that he’d been standing in front of, starting to unlock the door. Wilbur didn’t hear the soft padding of unsure footsteps, so focused on unlocking the door and getting inside.

Then Wilbur hears that annoying, squeaky, childish voice he thought he left behind.

“Hey dickhead.”

Wilbur stops, eyebrow twitching and his grip on the door tightening. He slowly turns his head around, hoping against hope that his ears were deceiving him.

Unfortunately, they were not. Standing behind him with a deadpan on his face is the blonde freshman Wilbur had left behind in that crowd. He thought he would’ve blended in with the crowd, never to be recognized again-

Did he follow Wilbur? Why is he here, standing behind him as if he were waiting for something?

“Did you fucking follow me?”

The kid scoffs. “As if. I’m just trying to get to my dorm room here.”

Wilbur raises a brow, irritation continuing to creep up on him. “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

Maybe the freshman needs help finding his room. Oh, how hilarious it would be to see the blonde sheepishly coming up to him and asking him for help finding his room- Wilbur’s ego would inflate and revenge would take it’s course.

“You’re literally standing in front of my room you fucking moron.” The blonde deadpans, gesturing to the door behind Wilbur.

Wilbur freezes.

“But this is my room.”

The blonde’s face twists into a scowl as he checks the number on his paper again. Wilbur does the same, desperately hoping it isn’t true-

203. Wilbur glances between the paper crumpled in his hands and the doorway. They match. This is his room. Thank fuck.

Wilbur turns to the kid with a mocking grin. “Well, it looks like this is my room, but if you need help finding yours-”

“203.” The blonde murmurs, glancing at the number hanging above the door, “This is my room.”

Wilbur pauses, his brows furrowing and his heart sinking a little. “That’s not-”

“Says so right here.” The blonde waves his paper around, looking to Wilbur with a triumphant smile.

Wilbur snatches the paper away from the blonde, ignoring his loud and ear-grating complaints in favor of comparing both his and the blonde’s papers in better lighting.

Both papers say room 203.

Wilbur looks up from the papers, his stomach dropping to his feet as he stares at the door.

Room 203.

…Fuck.

Wilbur hardly noticed the freshman looking over his shoulder, comparing the two papers with him.

“Oh.” He says simply, glancing between the dorm and Wilbur and facing him with a cheeky grin, “Looks like we’re roommates.”

—————

“What do you mean I can’t change my dorm room?”

Wilbur’s in their kitchen now after they both decided to have this discussion in their (his) dorm room instead of the hallway. Wilbur was pacing back and forth around the kitchen, holding his phone up to his ear while he spoke with administration. Specifically with the person in charge of organizing the rooms and the people inside of it.

His ‘roommate’ snickers from his spot across the room, leaning against the kitchen counter while poorly hiding his amusement at the whole situation.

Wilbur’s genuinely starting to think the kid’s getting enjoyment out of this. He finds joy in seeing Wilbur get frustrated , like some kind of revenge.

Wilbur ignores him in favor of listening intently to the person on the other side of the phone explain to him how there had been an influx of first-years this year- way more people than they had first expected- and most had come from out of country or out of town. They ran low on space and had already sent out an email to everyone staying at the college that they might get an unexpected roommate and to treat them with kindness.

Wilbur didn’t check his email over break. He regrets that now. The blonde on the other side of the room is looking more and more cocky the as he sees Wilbur’s frustration grow.

“Well thanks for fucking nothing.” Wilbur spits hotly before hanging up on them, simmering in his anger. He probably shouldn’t have done that- not only was he rude, administration has the power to literally kick him out of the dorm- he was just plain angry. He was supposed to be roomed alone, no one was supposed to be with him. Of course his new roommate has to be the same guy who rammed into him earlier out of spite. Of course.

Wilbur can already tell this is going to be a living hell.

The blonde had been eerily silent ever since Wilbur angrily hung up on the worker, scrutinizing Wilbur with a calculating gaze before he finally spoke.

“I’m Tommy by the way. Got here on a scholarship.”

Wilbur grimaced and mumbled in reply. Of course he got here on a scholarship. Tommy’s face twists into a scowl as he hops up onto the kitchen counter at Wilbur’s lack of reply, tilting his head with one eye squinted. His legs swung back and forth, hitting the cabinet as they swung back down.

“This is the part where you tell me your name, prick.”

Wilbur huffs irately, nearly dropping his phone haphazardly on the counter and breaking the screen. Luckily he didn’t- he couldn’t afford to get a new phone right now.

“Wilbur. That’s my name.”

Tommy grins slyly, like he know’s exactly what he’s doing. “I would say it’s been nice to meet you, Wilbur, but that would be a lie.”

Wilbur purses his lips, squinting his eyes at Tommy.

“I’d say the same to you.”

Nothing else needed to be said. Wilbur knows that most roommates aren’t very buddy-buddy, so maybe, if he ignores Tommy well enough, he’ll go away on his own. That’d be nice.

Wilbur follows Tommy out of the too small kitchen and to the main room where two beds laid on opposite sides of the room parallel to each other. There is a desk on one side of the room and a beside table on the other side with enough space for papers and assignments to stack up. The room is plain in case anyone wanted to decorate it.

Tommy immediately flopped onto the bed on the right side, bouncing up and down a bit as he places his red and black duffel bag down gently. By the looks of it, he had already claimed the bed. Wilbur supposes he’ll take the other one. No use in fighting for something as small as who gets to be closest to the window. The window looks as if it’s locked anyhow.

Tommy begins to unpack his duffel bag as Wilbur lays his guitar case on the other bed, patting it down gently. He props his suitcase up on the side of his bed and pulls out his duvet comforter of which earlier he had crammed into the suitcase, crushing most of his other items by the sheer size of it. That had been a hassle to pack.

Wilbur studiously ignores the strange shuffling sounds on the other side of the room and lays the duvet over his bed, tucking in the sides and neatening his bed up, smoothing out any wrinkles that will definitely bother him later. When he is finally finished, he turns to Tommy for a split moment- watching as the blonde pulls out a fucking terrarium.

Wilbur blanks.

“Is that a fucking spider?!”

“Tarantula, actually.” Tommy corrects and sets the spider’s terrarium onto the ground, dusting off the top gingerly.

Wilbur felt a shiver of disgust roll down his spine. The tarantula is a hairy thing- brown and black stripes and eight hairy legs with eight large beady eyes-

augh-

Wilbur wants nothing to do with that thing. He can already imagine scenarios of it escaping, crawling up his legs while he’s asleep. The mere thought makes him shiver like the thought of nails on a chalkboard.

“Why the fuck do you have a tarantula?” Wilbur asks warily, glancing between the hairy spider and Tommy, who’s looking as nonchalant as ever.

“‘Cus I can. What, you scared?”

Wilbur recoils. “No! No I’m not scared!”

Tommy snorts.

“It sounds like you’re in denial, buddy.”

“No, I’m not.” Wilbur seethes, glaring daggers at the tarantula innocently scurrying around in its terrarium as if Wilbur wasn’t just trying to explode it with his mind. Tommy snickers at whatever emotion is present on Wilbur’s face and Wilbur bites back the urge to snap at the other.

He’s getting sick of this guy already.

Wilbur sighs, long and drawn out. He pinches the bridge of his nose and quickly makes up his mind. Their college didn’t allow pets anyways, Wilbur is sure this counted in that. Surely spiders wouldn’t be allowed at a college like this. Surely.

“If you don’t get that thing out of here, then I’ll tell my advisor or one of the administrators.”

“No you won’t.”

Wilbur looks up, startled.

“What?”

“I said, you won’t.” Tommy states simply, unpacking a container of crickets. The spider’s food supply, Wilbur assumes. Wilbur nearly gagged at the sheer amount of crickets there are, each scrambling around on top of eachother in hopes of escape. 

Forget about the spider- if those end up in his bed somehow, Wilbur will leave. He’ll pack up and go. 

Wilbur shakes his head and focuses again on Tommy, who’s nonchalance unnerves him.

“Yes I will.” Wilbur frowns, backing up towards the door.

“No you won’t.”

Wilbur blew air out of his nose frustratedly. “Yes, I will. I’ll do it right now. Just watch me.” Wilbur turns towards the door and extends his hand, ready to turn the knob and leave.

“No you won’t.”

Wilbur chuckles unamusedly. The kid really found a way to get on his nerves just by repeating the same three words over and over again. It’s annoying.

“Why. Tell me, why won’t I?” Wilbur challenges, directing his irritated glare at the spruce wood of the door instead of the kid behind him.

“Because then your precious guitar will go bye-bye.”

Wilbur stills, processing the words, hand hovering over the doorknob before he whirls around and nearly gaping at the sight in front of him.

Tommy is holding his guitar, the one he had packed away securely in his special guitar case, just so no one would be able to mess with it. And now it’s hanging perilously out of the window in one of Tommy’s grubby hands, one slip from falling the entire distance of the second floor, making the concrete below covered in stung and splintered wood.

How he had opened the previously stuck window? Wilbur didn’t know. The child in question has a smug smirk on his face as he gouges Wilbur’s reaction, clearly getting a kick at his blatant anger.

How did Tommy even slip it out of there?

“Put. Her. Down.”

Tommy snickers devilishly. “Her? Your guitar’s a girl? Not judging but that’s kinda..”

Wilbur seethes, almost seeing red.

“Yes, her.”

Tommy hums nonchalantly and Wilbur’s heart drop when Tommy subtly slid his grip on the neck of his guitar until it was nearly dangling from his fingertips out of the window. Wilbur sucks in a breath.

“What’s her name?”

Wilbur blinks at the question, but answers hurriedly nonetheless.

“Simone. Her name is Simone. Can you give her back, now?”

Tommy hums for a moment, pressing his index finger to his chin as if he was thinking it over. Wilbur watches desperately, partly wanting to go snatch it away from him and partly wanting to punch Tommy in the face as a bit of light revenge.

“No. I don’t think I will.” Tommy grins cheekily, dipping Wilbur’s guitar down out of view- under the window. Wilbur’s heart lurched into his throat and he took a step forward in panic.

“NO-”

Tommy stops and pulls his guitar back into view.

“It’s right here, no need to get all pissy, Wilbur.” Tommy grins again, and Wilbur bit his cheek in frustration.

He could do nothing to get his guitar back without Tommy dropping it, sending the guitar falling twenty feet and smashing it into oblivion.

Wilbur sighs. Solemn acceptance.

“What do you want.”

Tommy’s smile widened.

“You know what I want.”

Wilbur sucks in a breath and curses every god out there that he’d already broken just an hour into meeting his new roommate. He opens his eyes to see Tommy regarding him with an amused expression, and his anger flares up again.

“I won’t.” Wilbur starts out slowly, anger evident in his eyes, “I won’t report your spider to administration.”

“Tarantula.” Tommy corrected.

“Whatever. Give me back Simone.”

Tommy huffs a laugh and brings Wilbur’s guitar back in the room through the window out of danger. “Well, if you insist.”

Wilbur immediately rushed forward and snatched the guitar away from the kid, running his fingers over the strings breathlessly. He checks the body of the guitar for fingerprints and breathes a sigh of relief when he finds none. He ignores Tommy’s boisterous laughter as he frets over his guitar, exactly in the same fashion Tommy had fretted over Shroud when Wilbur had knocked him over. 

“Glad we could come to an agreement, Wilbur.” Wilbur grits his teeth in irritation, Tommy’s cocky voice grating on his ears (and his ego), “Guess you’ll have to learn how to live with my baby Shroud. Piss me off, and I might sic him on you.”

Wilbur grimaced, turning to Tommy who began feeding the large spider a few crickets. They were alive, and Wilbur felt another chill roll down his spine.

“You named your spider Shroud?”

Tommy glares at Wilbur. “Tarantula. Do I need to fuckin’ spell it for you? And yes, Shroud is a poggers name.”

Wilbur felt his eye twitch. He isn’t even going to ask what that word means.

Wilbur turns his head away in disgust as Shroud begins to eat the live crickets and Tommy starts cooing at it, watching it eat its dinner.

Wilbur sighs and throws himself onto his bed.

“Please leave.”

“No.”

Wilbur sighs again, sinking in his pillows and turning to face the wall. He let his eyes finally slip shut. “Worth a shot.”

Chapter Text

That first day had been tough. He was somehow able to tune the annoying kid out, blasting his music in his earbuds and almost wrecking his hearing while unpacking the things he needed for school. Before he knew it, Tommy was gone- probably out to get food or something, it had gotten late- but Wilbur didn’t care.

Mentally, he was already exhausted. And so, without eating anything for dinner (he did that a lot, he was used to it-), he collapsed onto the bed, pillow fluffed up and cloudy, and let exhaustion pull him into a deep sleep.

He’d only been asleep for a few hours when he suddenly jolted up, sleep pulling down his conscious- but something felt wrong- something was wrong-

He’s awake.

Why is he awake- what woke him up?

His arms are cold, his face is cold, his chest feels cold and damp-

Wet- Wilbur raises a hand up to his hair.

Why is his hair dripping..?

A loud snickering erupted from beside him and Wilbur jolts back, knocking his shoulder into the wall with a yelp. There in the moonlight is Tommy, holding an empty cup that is still dripping dots of water over his duvet and using his free hand to hold back his laughs. At Wilbur’s half asleep confused state he laughs louder.

“Get pranked, bitch!”

It all clicked at once.

“Wha- HEY!”

Tommy erupts into loud boisterous laughter and Wilbur shoots up from bed, nearly tripping over in his hurry and looking over his duvet, which now has a considerably large wet patch in the middle.

Tommy was still laughing loudly, he bets the entire building is awake by now.

“You should’ve- hAH you should’ve seen your face!” Tommy chortles as soon as he gets ahold of himself, still not bothering to lower his volume. “You didn’t react for like- a solid three seconds. That was fuckin’- hAHa-”

Wilbur turns to Tommy so fast he nearly got whiplash.

“Wha- WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!”

“‘Cus I was bored. Why else would I pour a glass of water on you? It’s funny.”

Wilbur sputters, suddenly hyper aware of how damp his clothes are and how his hair plastered to his forehead, quickly rubbing the sleep and water out of his eyes blearily and checking the time.

3:00 AM

Wilbur turns back towards his bed with gritted teeth.

“You’ve just- my entire bed is soaked! What the fuck Tommy?!”

Tommy cackles.

“Happy first day of college!!” He taunts happily before bounding into his own bed and slipping under the covers, disappearing from sight. “Goodnight, bitchboy!”

Wilbur squints at the bundle in the blankets, half contemplating pouring water on Tommy’s head in an act of revenge, but ultimately decides he’s too tired and in no good position to do it now.

If this is gonna be his life for the next year, then he’s gonna have to find a way to either A.) make peace with the spite-filled gremlin living with him, or B.) find any way possible to enact revenge. He’s currently leaning towards option B.

Wilbur grumbles, shooting another glare at the bed opposite of his before grabbing an itchy towel from his wardrobe and laying it over the wet spot. He lays down with a grunt, casting another bitter glare at the other boy.

“Goodnight Tommy.”

—————

The next day had been surprisingly boring- Wilbur’s sleep had been ruined and he couldn’t forget that heinous crime against him, so if he “misplaced” Tommy’s computer, no one had to know.

Watching Tommy curse frantically as he scouted the apartment for his laptop was well worth the uncomfortable sleep Wilbur endured the night before, especially when Tommy went as far as to check under Wilbur’s bed for his missing computer. Wilbur could hardly hold back his smug smile when Tommy passed by him, not knowing that Wilbur had hid his laptop underneath his pillow.

Eventually Tommy found it after enough pestering and angry swearing (Wilbur honestly didn’t think he’d ever meet anyone who swore as much as him, but this guy has him defeated-), and after Tommy made the sudden realization that Wilbur had been the one to hide it from him, he delivered a solid punch to Wilbur’s arm and Wilbur laughed brightly, reveling in the blonde’s wide eyed indignant scowl.

Wilbur thought that’d be the end of it. Tommy had his fun, pushing Wilbur over and disrupting his sleep as a fun prank for Wilbur knocking into him. He’d had his revenge. Wilbur got his revenge back, and now it was over.

He hopes.

It was one of the few days before his classes started, giving him enough time to settle back into dorm life. Wilbur was famished from skipping dinner the night before, and since he didn’t trust Tommy to not poison his food, he want to the small bakery outside of campus that he was a frequent visitor of.

Most of the employees there are college kids similar to him, seeing as they needed a place to earn stable income and pay off their crushing student debt, so Wilbur is welcomed with open arms and familiar faces.

Wilbur would consider himself pretty social. He has a tight knit group of close friends, mostly consisting of Phil and Techno, but he has other friends on the side from the cafe and from his ensemble classes. One of his friends Niki Nihachu works at the small bakery on the edge of campus and waited on him a lot, basically knowing his order by heart. So when Wilbur walked in the familiar bakery and made eye contact with the hibiscus haired girl behind the counter, he smiled widely.

“Nikiii!!”

“Wil! How have you been?” Niki asks sweetly moving from wiping down the counter back over to the register to take his order. Wilbur winced at the question before masking it over with a wide smile.

“Same old, same old. How about you?”

At this, Niki lit up excitedly. “I got a new roomate this year, her name is Puffy! She’s really sweet, and seriously one of the most respectful people I’ve ever met. I think I got really lucky, Wil!”

Wilbur’s eye twitched and he bit his cheek, thinking back to his rude hotheaded roommate and his drunken one beforehand. He bit his tongue and kept silent. He’ll be damned if he let his current.. predicament ruin Niki’s excitement.

“That’s.. great Niki!” Wilbur smiles through gritted teeth, “I’m glad you have such a wonderful roommate.”

Niki smiles, the apples of her cheeks reaching her eyes and making them squint shut. “I’m glad too! I hope your roommate is just as awesome as mine! Anyways, can I take your order? Is it the normal one?”

Wilbur nods through a grimace. “Yeah, you got it, thanks Niki.”

Niki smiles one last smile and hurries to get in the back room. Wilbur’s smile drops almost instantly, irritation creeping up in his chest.

Right. That reminds him.

He left Tommy back at the dorm, putting all his trust that his room wouldn’t be burnt down by the time he got back.

After thanking Niki for the small breakfast and subtly tipping her more than what was needed, Wilbur hurries off back to his dorm, afraid it might be too late and his room may be engulfed in flames already.

When he got back, he was pleasantly surprised to see that his room was still intact, and that he couldn’t hear loud screaming or the smell of smoke. Maybe Tommy went back to sleep. That’d be nice.

“FUCK!”

Scratch that. Wilbur darts past the kitchen and barges into their shared room, expecting to see something set aflame-

Wibur blinks dumbly. There is no fire, no screaming and no heat.

Instead, he is greeted with two unknown people in his room, both sitting with Tommy on his bed holding two game consoles. Tommy is between the two of them, face full of rage and a sputtering mess, yelling incoherently at the two of them- random words that consisted of cussing the two out as they remained completely calm.

Hold on- Wilbur recognizes these two. One of them is shorter and has fluffy brown hair that nearly covers his eyes, wearing a huge green sweatshirt that practically engulfs him in it, and the other boy is extremely tall, wearing a split dyed mask and some kind of funky Hawaiian shirt. Wilbur has seen these two before-

Oh-

These were his neighbors.

“How’d you aim that green shell so perfectly, Tubbo?!” Tommy sputters, turning to face the smaller boy.

Tubbo grins, bordering on something feral. “It’s all in the angles, Boss Man. It hits the wall and bounces back, then boom.”

The tallest boy sighs. “And this is why you don’t challenge Tubbo to Mario Kart.”

Tommy throws his switch down on the bed and lays back with a groan, scrubbing at his eyes with his palms.

“Fuck you.”

Neither of the boys responded, too busy peering Wilbur over from his spot uncomfortably against the door. It kept getting more awkward as silence crept in on the trio, and Wilbur inched back towards the door-

Maybe he could just leave for a bit, let Tommy have his fun-

Tommy pokes his head up at the awkward silence, finally catching a glance at Wilbur. A scowl sets on his face as he nudges the taller boy with the mask.

“Now this, Ranboob, is my horrible roommate. Kept me up all night from his snoring. He’s a wrongun.”

The taller boy, Ranboob-? turns from Wilbur to look at Tommy skeptically.

“Y’know, I’ve only known you for a few hours, and I somehow doubt that he was the one keeping you up.”

Tommy lets out an offended squawk and crosses his arms indignantly, and Wilbur bit his tongue to keep a smug quip from slipping out. Then Tommy’s shoulders dropped.

“Well, it’s true. He does snore.”

“I do not!!”

“You do too!” Tommy taunts, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “That’s the whole reason why Tubbo and Ranboo are here- to complain about your loud ass snoring!”

“We actually came to complain about all the yelling last night.” Tubbo chirped, eyes looking down on his switch and starting up a new game, “I’m pretty sure you guys woke the whole building up.”

“Yeah.” Ranboo, not Ranboob- inputed, “I don’t think I heard any snoring last night beside’s Tubbo’s.”

Wilbur shrinks back sheepishly. “Sorry about the noise, we’ll try to be quieter. Why are- why are you still here, though?”

Tubbo shrugs, his shaggy brown hair sweeping over his eyes as he and Tommy focused on the game. “Man’s is shit at Mario Kart, I thought I’d at least help him drive better.”

“I drive perfectly fine!”

“You’ve fallen off the map like, eight times, Tommy.” Ranboo pipes up, leaning over Tommy’s shoulder to get a better view at both of the boys’ screens. “I’m surprised you were still able to get a placing, honestly.”

Tommy scowls, pressing on the joysticks a little harder than necessary, “Tubbo’s rigged it. He’s fucking- hacking and shit. I’m the best at this game.”

“Against the NPC’s, sure.” Tubbo snorts, pressing a button on his switch that made Tommy sputter and mash his buttons violently.

“HOW THE FUCK DID YOU JUST GO PAST ME?!”

Wilbur sighs and chuckles amused before walking past the three boys- they had likely forgotten Wilbur was in the room with how keyed-in they were to the game, and Wilbur pulls out his laptop from under his bed (he didn’t trust Tommy with it, that was a given-), throwing on his Bluetooth earbuds and tuning the others loud cheers out.

That was the last normal day.

—————

Tubbo and Ranboo had left soon after having beat Tommy mercilessly into the ground at Mario Kart 8- Tommy made Tubbo promise that they’d race again just so he could have another chance at winning against him (even though they both knew it was for more than that) so in the end, the three ended up exchanging numbers and making a group chat for just the three of them. Tubbo and Ranboo left their dorm with big waves, having entered only as strangers and now leaving as friends.

Wilbur didn’t know how Tommy did it. Somehow- he convinced the guys coming to chew them out for being too loud to play Mario Kart with him, and then he just- casually made friends with them?

Tubbo and Ranboo were both freshmen like Tommy, so Wilbur supposed that helped make them click so well together, laughing and calling each other nicknames as if they’ve known each other for years.

Tubbo’s an engineering major with a computer science minor- ambitious for a freshman, but from Wilbur could see, he seems capable, especially because just like Tommy, he’d also come here on a scholarship. Ranboo’s a psychology major- why he would pick that, Wilbur didn’t know. All the psych majors Wilbur knew chose that major at first to figure out what’s going on inside their own brains- then they realized that they needed therapy to fix their mental health, and then they either dropped out or chose a different major. Wilbur hardly knew few people who actually chose to be a psych major just to be a psych major.

Tommy, on the other hand, is a film major. Wilbur supposes he should’ve known that fact beforehand- but to be completely honest, he doesn’t really care. It is only on the first day they had their classes that Wilbur realized this. Wilbur had gone to his required ensemble class and Tommy left to go to whatever editing lecture he had to go to. Those were times Wilbur could listen to the silence as if it were some kind of peaceful music, the blonde’s jabbering no longer reaching him.

The first week of classes wasn’t too bad, in all things considered. Wilbur stumbled through his classes, getting used to being back in the college environment. The work hadn’t been piled on him yet- he suspects the professors are trying to give everyone time to settle in before the rush of homework. Practice is still long and lengthy as it’s always been, but Wilbur can handle it fine.

Everyday during his break times, Wilbur would sit on the ground near his bed and binge YouTube videos while waiting for Tommy to inevitably trudge into the dorm, dead on his feet from all the classes he’d go to. And, for the most part, Tommy was dead on his feet, still trying to get used to the shift from high school to college life.

Tommy would stumble in the dorm and throw his bag to the ground carelessly before face-planting on his bed and answering all of Wilbur’s questions with a lazy middle finger. It was Wilbur’s favorite part of the day, the spite filled part of him flaring up in joy at seeing the once boisterous, obnoxious teenager realize the position he’s in, and then to witness the sinking dread of real life. Realizing that you can’t just fuck around and do whatever you want, that if you want to stay alive, you have to work. It kills Wilbur inside a little more every time he remembers the fact.

What’s different from what Wilbur’s used to is that Tommy always bounced back- he never stopped going to classes, never let himself go down the rabbit hole of self pity and hatred. Immediately after the daily ritual of face-planting on the bed, Tommy would pull out his switch and grind Mario Kart for literal hours on the highest speed and hardest levels. Coconut Mall is practically stuck in Wilbur’s head by how often Tommy plays, dead determined to beat his own record over and over and over again. It is maddening.

That’s when Wilbur knew-

This guy is stubborn.

That brings him to now- strumming his guitar idly after a day full of classes, trying out different combinations of chords and different melodies for a new song he was composing. Tommy is in the room with him, tapping away with his back hunched over his laptop, editing his notes as he works on homework of some sort, muttering something about screenplays and camera angles every once in a while.

For once, the blonde didn’t bother him, instead tuning him out by wearing headphones and playing music. The quality of the headphones is horrendous- Wilbur can hear the music all distorted and crackly from where he’s sitting. It’s honestly pretty distracting- messing with Wilbur’s head as he tries and fails to distinguish the different tunes while playing around with his guitar, but he decidedly did not complain. It had been a long day, he didn’t need a petty fight with his roommate to add on to the list.

Tommy has his dollar store headphones thrown over his mess of blonde curls and is jamming out to fucking Animal Crossing music of all things, humming along occasionally and glancing at Wilbur irritatedly every once in a while.

Eventually, Tommy brings his headphones down from his head and slams his pen down on his mess of papers.

“Can’t you play your guitar a little quieter?! You’re a vocal performance major, why the fuck do you even have a guitar? Aren’t you supposed to be singing n’ shit?”

Wilbur’s strumming halted and he scowled at Tommy. “Just because I’m a vocal performance major doesn’t mean I’m not aloud to have an instrument. Guitar is more of my passion than my singing is.”

At that, Tommy turns around confused. “What do you mean?”

Wilbur heaves a troubled breath of air before carefully putting his beloved guitar to the side. “College is more of a back-up plan for me, just in case this thing I’m tryna do doesn’t work out. I wanna be a music artist, or in a band if I’m able.”

Wilbur idly plucks the strings of the guitar on his bedside while continuing on. “But that requires skill and luck, and I dunno if I’m gonna be able to get big anytime soon. So I’m using my college major as a safety net in case it doesn’t work.”

Tommy blinks. “So, what, you upload your music on Spotify or something? Can I see?”

Wilbur turns to him disgruntled, his plucking ceasing. “You were just telling me about how annoying my guitar was, why would you wanna see it now?”

Tommy rolls his eyes and picks up his phone, switching the app over to Spotify.

“Are you gonna tell me your user or what?”

Wilbur squints at the blonde, trying to sort out his intentions. All he could see was pure curiosity and a hint of mischief.

“How do I know you’re not just gonna make fun of me?”

“That’s not something a big man like me would do.”

Wilbur narrows his eyes. “Tommy, I don’t doubt for a second that you would definitely do that.”

Tommy scowls and places a hand over his heart, sincerity shining on his face- a bit forced, but you get the point.

“They call me Tommy Trusty, I can never tell a lie.”

“They definitely don’t call you that.”

“Yes they do! You’re just jealous about how many friends I have-”

“My user is just my name. Wilbur Soot.” Wilbur interrupts, averting his eyes to his bedspread and grabbing his laptop from the bedside table. Tommy falls silent and Wilbur hears soft fingerprints typing something into the search bar on his phone, and Tommy plops his headphones back on his head and turns back to his work, this time playing Wilbur’s music.

Deciding to work on his homework for his music theory class, Wilbur opens his laptop, taking out his notes and getting to work. He can hear his own distorted voice crackling from Tommy’s shit-quality headphones, and for some reason, that brought a spike a nervousness down his spine.

It’s not like he cares what the kid thinks of his music- he didn’t know why he felt so nervous about Tommy listening to his songs. It’s irrational, and Wilbur pushes it down, tuning out the music and focusing all on his homework.

Once in a while, he’ll catch Tommy nodding his head to the beat of the song or mumbling the lyrics to himself- and Wilbur couldn’t deny the pride that swelled up in his chest whenever he saw Tommy’s small smile listening to the music. His music.

After about fifteen minutes, Tommy took the headphones off and turned to him. Wilbur looked up from his work at the other’s starry eyed grin.

“What?“

“Holy shit, Wilbur!” He starts out excitedly, glancing from his phone back to Wilbur, “These songs are fucking amazing! You made these by yourself?! That’s so cool!”

Wilbur blinks dumbly, taken aback. “I- yeah, I made them by myself.”

Wilbur subtly pulls the beanie further over his head to hide how red the tips of his ears were as Tommy continues to ramble on about how great the songs were, and about how Wilbur would be an amazing music artist. Wilbur shrank back bashfully at that, not used to the praise on his art form, especially from Tommy of all people.

“I like how you named it ‘Maybe I Was Boring’ because you are kinda boring Bitchbur-”

Anddd it’s over.

“I am not boring, gremlin.” Wilbur glares at him and Tommy shoots him a toothy grin in response.

“Okay, but seriously Wilbur, these songs are actually really fucking good. I’d listen to these even if it wasn’t you who made them, they’re that good.”

Wilbur’s shoulders drop.

“Really?“

Tommy nods seriously, fiddling with his phone for a moment before laying it down. “Yeah, really. I’m following you now, you can’t get rid of me anymore!”

Despite his feigned annoyed expression, Wilbur couldn’t quell the flicker of gratefulness in his chest. He huffed and ran his fingers over the neck of his guitar.

“Thanks Tommy.”

Chapter Text

Wilbur’s mind feels hazy. He cannot move his head, eyes staring into the distance on one spot. The world is a pure, shining white that echoes around him, and the world is peaceful.

The world cannot help the unease that creeps up in his spine.

Wilbur cannot move. It’s almost as if his limbs are nonexistent- he’s a floating head in a world that doesn’t make sense, no body to connect to. Without a neck, he cannot turn his head. Wilbur stared forward blankly and waits for something to happen.

And it does. A small droplet of red- it’s a speckle of color that’s nearly invisible in the blinding white, but Wilbur sees it anyways and zone in on it. One droplet of red turns into two- and then something snaps, and like a waterfall the red is suddenly everywhere, infecting the white and turning everything blood red, red, red-

Wilbur cannot do anything as the white is overtaken by the red. The red looks shiny, as if a thick warm liquid- but that’s just him assuming things. He cannot feel- he doesn’t have a body.

The red liquid- blood, Wilbur realizes, shifts and forms as the white disappears fully. His world is covered in red, dripping echoing in his ears and down his face and-

There is a face forming in the red, eyes half lidded and hazy similar to his own. Wilbur recognizes this man. His drunken ex-roomate, with blood dripping out of his nose as he chokes on his saliva. 

Others emerge. Wilbur recognizes them as well. They are similar to his former roommate.

Dying.

..

Wilbur jolts up in a cold sweat, his heart in his throat and mind still reeling from the nightmare he’s just had. Stupid fucking nightmares-

Wilbur pulls his mind in to focus on his surroundings. Warmth surrounds him, soft blankets covering his bare arms as his chest heaves, trying to calm down his racing heart. His clothes stick to his skin from sweat. The world is black, but that is only because it is nighttime, and Wilbur was trying to sleep. Wilbur welcomes the darkness with open arms. He’d rather the world be painted in black than red-

He hasn’t had that nightmare in a long time, but whenever he does have it, it haunts him, nearly plaguing his thoughts for the next week or so before it recedes back into the hazy recesses of his memory. Stupid fucking-

It isn’t real, he has to remind himself, it’s not real.

All his friends are alive and well, living their best lives as they should be. His paranoia is most likely caused by added stress from schoolwork- but that nightmare usually occurs during mid-terms and finals weeks, not at the beginning of the semester-

Weird.

Reoccurring stress-induced nightmares suck. 

After another moment of silence where his heart is calmed down but the hairs on the back of his neck still haven’t relaxed- Wilbur’s suddenly aware of a stare burning into the side of his head- and his heart skipped a beat-

Someone was staring at him-

Wilbur turns his head to the stare, wide eyed and confused and-

Oh.

It’s Tommy, his roommate. He’s sat up in bed, body faced towards Wilbur with his face illuminated by the light of his Nintendo switch. He’s just- staring at Wilbur as he plays the game, thumbs moving rapidly on the mini joysticks- never once glancing at the game, playing it blindly as he stared at Wilbur with wide eyes.

Wilbur recoiled. What the fuck?

A split second glance to the digital clock on his bedside table-

3:01 AM

..

Loud crackly distorted music erupts from Tommy’s game console- Wilbur recognizes it, a specific map from Mario Kart- and Tommy blinks owlishly at him. An unwanted shiver creeps up Wilbur spine.

Finally, Tommy speaks.

“I win bitch. Tubbo will regret challenging me to Mario Kart.”

—————

“And then he just- goes back to sleep- like nothing ever happened?? What??”

Techno is sat by his side, sipping from his strawberry milkshake loudly as he jots something down in the corner of the page of his book. The campus cafe is bustling with employees and people looking to get a quick bite before their next class, leaving Wilbur’s words hard to hear. Finally, Techno looks up from his book with his usual blank stare.

“Did he win at least?”

Wilbur’s eyebrow twitches before he sags and leans back in his chair. “Yeah, he did- but he nearly gave me a heart attack.”

On his other side, Phil is looking at him in a mixture of amusement and concern, brows knitting together and a wry smile on his face. Wilbur puffs out his cheeks and lays his head down on the circular table with a thump, studiously ignoring Phil’s snort of amusement.

The trio is currently doing their weekly routine of meeting up together at the campus cafe for brunch- the only time when none of them had classes and were able to chill together, either using the time to study together in each others presence or just to catch up. Wilbur’s convinced that Phil and Techno are the only ones keeping him sane at this point- helping him go over his horrible dictation homework and helping him sort through his music sheets. In turn for their help and advice, Wilbur helps Techno give good annotations on the books he reads for his English classes and helps Phil create solid lesson plans for his education degree.

“Gods-” Techno’s face twists in a mixture of disgruntlement and annoyance as he lets his head fall on his open book with a thump- letting the pen roll out of his hand as his shoulders sag, “If I have to read one more book by another straight dead white guy, I’m going to lose it.”

Wilbur grins and peers around his drink to poke at Techno’s pink hair.

“And that’s why you don’t choose English as your major-!”

Techno’s hand shoots up and grabs Wilbur wrist, prying it away from poking his hair. Techno glances up from where his face had been smushed against his book to give Wilbur a deadpan glare.

“How’s music theory goin’?”

Wilbur’s amusing stare withered and he sunk back into his seat, promptly flipping Techno off with his other hand. Techno laughed tiredly and let go of Wilbur’s wrist, sitting up and going back to his reading.

The whispers of Wilbur’s nightmare the night before stayed prominent in his head- he’d find himself staring off into some random corner with the echoes and images on repeat.

This- wasn’t supposed to be happening. Wilbur’s not stressed- it’s the beginning of the semester, and they’ve hardly divulged into the hard stuff yet- he doesn’t have any huge assignments or exams, so why-

Phil’s brows pinch in concern and he taps Wilbur’s hand, startling him from where he was staring a hole into the mahogany wood table. His eyes flicker up to meet Phil’s and he smiles as best as he can- the effort is futile of course, Phil could read him like an open book, and the way his frown deepened told Wilbur that Phil didn’t believe his practiced reassuring smile at all.

Phil is silent as he gouges Wilbur’s strained expression and Wilbur silently urges him to stop psychoanalyzing people- that shit can be creepy sometimes-

“Did you have the nightmare again?”

Of course Phil knew. Of fucking course. He probably recognized his behavior from whenever he’d have that nightmare during finals- zoning off and snapping more often. Curse Phil and his stupid observant nature. Whatever Phil wanted to say, he didn’t want to hear it- the man’s advice was usually horrible.

Regardless, Wilbur’s face crumples at Phil’s patient expression and he shrugs dismissively, turning his head down as to not see whatever expression Phil’s wearing right then. Even so, he can feel the concern rolling off the man in heavy waves. An awkward tension pierces the air as Techno shifted in his seat, always so hilariously uncomfortable whenever sensitive topics are brought up. Wilbur always liked to tease him about it, but now he just wants Phil to stop staring at him like he’s some kicked puppy.

“Mate, we’re all alive. Nothing’s going to happen to us, I promise.” Phil’s hand reaches over to press a feather light touch to Wilbur’s arm and Wilbur welcomes the shred of comfort with gritted teeth and hunched shoulders.

“I know, Phil. It’s stupid- I only have that nightmare when it’s exam week and I’m stressed, but its been only a week and I’m already having that dream again!” A scowl made it’s way onto Wilbur’s face. “It’s so dumb- the dream is irrational and I shouldn’t be so scared over it-”

“It’s not dumb.” Techno interrupts, swirling his straw in his drink as he continues staring down at his book as if he was discussing the weather, “Many people have the fear of death or abandonment, and seeing as literally any one of us could drop dead at any moment from heart failure, I wouldn’t call your fear irrational.”

“Techno-!” Phil hisses and Techno reels back in confusion, finally glancing up from his book.

“What? What’d I do?”

Phil shook his head and tossed a glance in Wilbur’s direction, of which Wilbur promptly glared at, and turned back to Techno with exasperation written all over his face. “You can’t just say that stuff to him- he doesn’t want to hear about how we could die at any moment!”

Techno sputtered. “I was tryna help!”

Phil sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose and Wilbur stifles a laugh at the confusion present on Techno’s face. Finally, Phil turns to Wilbur with a tired smile.

“Your fear isn’t irrational- it’s normal and common for so many people, Wil. You aren’t alone in this. Even if something does happen- because you can’t predict this shit- we’ll get through it together. People come and go, that’s part of life. But we aren’t leaving you, Wil. Besides- both me and Tech are fairly healthy, we won’t die on you anytime soon.”

Wilbur glances up at Phil for a split moment and let a small smile worm it’s way onto his face. He knows everything Phil’s saying is true- it didn’t shake the unease that had settled in his soul, but it at least helped him feel more valid and seen.

“Thanks Phil. Y’know, you’re usually shit at giving advice.”

Techno poorly conceals a laugh next to him and Phil’s face morphs into a look Wilbur likes to call “Tired Overworked Dad™”, a look that’s usually present on Phil’s face whenever Wilbur says something he considers “dumb,” (no, anteater discourse is not dumb, Phil doesn’t understand-) with usually Phil looking like he’s half contemplating packing up and dropping them right then and there. Even if it’s clear he’s contemplating it, Phil never abandons them.

Wilbur grins widely, his previous problems and fears being pushed down by the warm atmosphere caused by his two best friends, listening to Phil’s loud complaints and Techno’s dry commentary as he revels in the feeling of safety and feeling like he belongs, like he’s found his place. College and life can be a bitch, but he knows his best friends will always be there to pull him through it.

He gets back to the dorm later that day after classes with lifted spirits and the nightmare almost off his mind completely- usually it takes at least a week of constant reoccurring nightmares and then another week of hopeless thoughts for him to forget about the nightmare again, or at least to push it away in some forgotten corner of his brain, but it seems like today is different for some reason, the nightmare already being pushed back completely. Wilbur is sure at this point that he won’t dream about it again, at least for a while, and if he keeps himself distracted, the nightmare won’t come back.

And so he keeps himself distracted. Tommy is already in the dorm, having made a nest of some sort out of his and Wilbur’s blankets- there are pillows placed under him and he has an entire twelve-pack of Coke next to him as he watches something intently on his laptop, often jotting down notes on a notepad. The laptop is blaring and noisy- the volume was turned all the way up and Tommy didn’t seem the least bit phased, brows furrowed as his gaze keeps flickering from his notes back to the laptop, scribbling furiously. Without thinking twice, Wilbur plops down next to him.

Tommy shifts and gives him a look of disgust before pausing his video. It’s a movie of some sort- Wilbur couldn’t tell which from the frame Tommy paused it on.

“What the fuck are you doing? This is my area, prick.”

Wilbur gestures over to his bed, which is now blanket-less. “You used my sheets, so technically it’s my area too.”

Tommy squints at him angrily as Wilbur makes himself comfortable in the pile of blankets, propping a pillow behind his head as he glances at the movie one last time. He reaches over Tommy to grab a Coke but Tommy swats his hand away with a yell.

“Those are mine, dickhead!”

It’s Wilbur’s turn to look disgusted. “All twelve?”

“Yeah?”

“All twelve cans of Coke are yours?”

Tommy takes a swig from his Coke and grins at Wilbur. “Not twelve anymore. There’re only six left and they’re mine.”

“You drank six cans of Coke while binging movies in the time I was gone?” Wilbur asks, more in concern than disgust this time. Tommy scoffs.

“I’m not binging movies for the fun of it- this is my fuckin’ homework!” He gestures wildly down to the various scattered papers in his blanket nest, nearly spilling his can of Coke in the process. The notes have crude writing speaking of camera angles and something called a ‘dolly zoom’- and many more technical terms that seemed to only make sense to people studying film. Wilbur looks once between Tommy’s tired eyes and the laptop and quickly snatches it away before he can make up his mind, opening a new tab and typing rapidly.

“Hey!”

Wilbur shushes Tommy by placing one hand over the blonde’s mouth and promptly reels back when Tommy tries to lick his palm. Wilbur presses enter on the keyboard and glares at Tommy with pure disgust.

“You are so gross, man.”

Tommy only scoffs and a scowl worms it’s way onto his face. “Just give me my fucking computer back, I wasn’t finished yet.”

“Nope!” Wilbur clicks on the first video that popped up and places the computer back where Tommy had it propped up before. “You need a break, so we’re watching this together and you aren’t going to take notes.”

Tommy glared at him but didn’t refuse, which Wilbur was thankful for. He presses play and enlarges the video to fill the entire screen before settling back next to Tommy and throwing his hands behind his head. Tommy keeps a deep scowl on his face as he grumbles and gulps down his Coke, crumpling the bottle in his hand once he’s finished and throwing it to the side like a heathen. He then proceeds to pull out another soda and Wilbur scoffs again before turning back to the video.

About fifteen seconds in, Tommy interrupts the video much to Wilbur’s extreme displeasure.

“This film is horrible! They’ve only got one camera angle and they aren’t even panning it anywhere! There’s no cuts either and the lighting is dogshit! I could produce better sound quality than this.” He complained loudly, taking a big gulp from his soda that Wilbur was sure would hurt his throat-

Wilbur cocks his head at the younger boy confused.

“Tommy.. this is a musical off of YouTube. It’s recorded on someone’s phone- the audio’s gonna be shit no matter what.”

Tommy grumbles and glares at Wilbur. “Why are you making me watch this. This is traumatizing.”

Wilbur shrugs and unpauses the video again. “It’s Hamilton, you gotta watch it at least once. You’ll like it, trust me.”

Tommy’s face wrinkles in disgust.

“I shoulda known you’d be a theater kid.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Tommy shrugs and takes another sip of his Coke and they both tune back into watching and listening to the musical. Wilbur was expecting Tommy to complain the entire time and ruin his perception of Hamilton, like Tommy did most things- but the kid was surprisingly compliant, watching the musical with more interest than Wilbur had seen from him, catching him nodding his head along to some of the more catchier songs and making rude commentary towards the characters. Wilbur could see Tommy trying to stifle his laughs when Wilbur began to sing along to some of the songs with a New Zealand accent and with higher, more feminine and pitchy voices for the lady actors.

Two hours whiz by faster than expected and by the end of it, Tommy had finished all of his Coke, drinking the last three cans within the last thirty minutes of the musical. There is a pile of red cans matching the blonde’s shirt stacking up in the corner and Tommy frowns, picking up the rectanglular twelve-pack box and sticking his hand inside to check for anymore of the sugary drink.

“I ran out of Coke.”

Wilbur hums. “Yup.”

“We need to get more Coke.” Tommy sits up from where his back was pressed against a pillow comfortably, getting to his knees to stand up, “Let’s go to the store.”

“Wha-” Wilbur sits up as well, regarding Tommy with confusion, “We can’t just go to the store because you ran out of Coke- you drank all twelve within five hours, if you have anymore I think you’ll have a heart attack.”

Tommy lightly kicks his laptop closed and Wilbur’s frown deepens- they weren’t even finished with Hamilton yet- but Tommy clearly didn’t care, skipping over to the door where his shoes laid on their sides, having been kicked off before when Tommy entered the dorm.

“I simply cannot go without it, big man. The heart attack can’t kill me if I simply say ‘no.’”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Come on, Wilbur! Let’s just quick go to the grocery store or something, it’ll be quick!” Tommy is already reaching for the doorknob and fishing something out of his pocket when Wilbur finally sighs.

He didn’t know why Tommy wants him to come with, but he agrees anyways.

“Fine.”

Wilbur trudges from the nest of pillows and lazily slides on his shoes with Tommy buzzing excitedly next to him, caffeine bouncing in his every step. This- definitely isn’t healthy for him-

Tommy pokes at Wilbur’s shoulder with an annoyed grumble. “The car’s in the parking lot. Let’s go already!”

Wilbur pauses from where he is currently tying his shoes. “You have a car?”

“No.” Tommy smiles- a smile that screamed of mischievous intentions that nearly sends a chill down Wilbur’s back, “But Ranboo does.”

Wilbur gives up tying his laces in favor of leveling Tommy with a deadpan. “You stole their car keys, didn’t you.”

Tommy grins toothily and pulls out a pair of keys from his pocket, swinging them around leisurely on his finger. “I stole their car keys.”

Wilbur sighs and Tommy’s grin widens, getting enjoyment out of Wilbur’s exasperation. The younger boy all but shoves the dangling keys into Wilbur’s hands and Wilbur has no choice but to grab them so they wouldn’t hit the floor. Wilbur glances up confused.

“What’s this for?”

Tommy rolls his eyes, “Are you coming or not? The grocery store’s gonna close soon- we gotta go!”

Before Wilbur can protest any longer Tommy takes off towards the door, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process, and making a mad dash down the hallway, not bothering to close the door behind him. Wilbur stands in the empty dorm stunned with one shoelace tied and the other in a knot, holding the car keys he didn’t know what to do with in the base of his palm. Wilbur’s shoulders drop as Tommy’s thundering steps fade as he stumbles down the stairs, jumping over the last three steps.

Wilbur’s at the point where he can recognize Tommy’s footsteps- they’re loud, careless, and bulky, always skipping the last three steps of the stairs. He’s sure many people can recognize Tommy’s footsteps at this point- the kid turned out to be a social butterfly, making friends easily with anyone within talking vicinity to him (to which Wilbur is not jealous of- nope, nope, nope-) and is always going out with Tubbo and Ranboo and their friends- Wilbur is pretty sure almost everyone knows who Tommy is.

Wilbur glances down at the stolen keys in his palm and closes his hand. He doesn’t know how to tell Tommy- he doesn’t know how to say that he can’t-

Wilbur shook that thought away- Tommy’s waiting for him, and here he is just standing in the empty dorm like a lost puppy. Tommy really brings a certain kind of energy with him whether or not the kid is chaotic and annoying or not- a kind of energy that is as bright as the sun, that makes you want to revel in its warmth but not get too close in fear of being burned. Without him- that energy is gone, and Wilbur would never admit that he felt different in a bad way whenever Tommy wasn’t around.

Before Wilbur knew it, he was already down the stairs and walking out of the dorm building, making his way to where the fluffy blonde hair is peaking out in wisps over the cars. Tommy has an irritated scowl on his face- Wilbur knows he took too long- he smiles as nonchalant as he can as he meets Tommy by the black and gray car he’s leaning on.

“Took you long enough.”

Wilbur rolls his eyes, hesitating by the drivers door. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Tommy opens the passenger door and Wilbur stands next to the driver’s door hesitantly- waiting for an excuse to pop up in his mind, one of his friends to come save him, or maybe Tommy getting a passing sickness- anything, really. Just so he wouldn’t have to drive-

“You coming or what?”

Wilbur startles and glances back up- Tommy is looking at him with some sort of irritated expression on his face and Wilbur stays silent, nearly crushing the keys to the car in his grip. Tommy cocks his head at Wilbur’s blatant nervousness.

“C’mon- start the car so we can goooo!”

Wilbur stays silent, feet rooted in place as he stares at the steering wheel through the drivers window. He doesn’t want to say it out loud, let his embarrassment be any worse than it already is. His hesitation is giving him away and he does nothing to stop it.

Tommy’s brows furrow confused as he looks from Wilbur to the car and back again. Then his eyes widen, realization finally dawning on him.

“You don’t know how to drive, do you?”

Wilbur flushes and Tommy’s grin stretches farther across his face knowingly. Wilbur fought the urge to turn around and leave Tommy behind.

“Oh-ho-ho! Wilbur!”

Wilbur grit his teeth and glared at Tommy, who didn’t seem phased in the slightest. He waited for Tommy to chastise him, to question why he wouldn’t want to learn to drive- it was easier for him to just take the trolley or just walk. There’s no need for a license, so why would he get one?

Instead, Tommy smiles with glee. “Don’t worry Big Man, I’ll drive.”

Wilbur couldn’t even stop him as he snatched his keys away from him and slid into the drivers seat.

Wilbur heaves a long sigh and relents, opening the passenger door and sliding in next to him.

“Can you even drive?” Wilbur finally asks, watching Tommy as he adjusted the seat and turned the steering wheel a bit.

Tommy pauses.

“Legally?”

“..yeah?” What else would Wilbur mean? Of course he meant legally.

Tommy’s smiles, something wild in his eyes, and Wilbur’s stomach drops.

“Nope!”

With that, Tommy shifted the gears into DRIVE and they were off.

—————

Wilbur thinks he’s going to be sick.

They made it to the grocery store in record time- with Tommy speeding twenty over the speed limit and nearly causing many crashes- Wilbur was surprised they were even alive. They didn’t even get pulled over like Wilbur had been expecting; he’s sure they ran way too many red lights to count and the other cars’ annoyed honks are practically ingrained into his memory.

He ignores how Tommy threw him a bright grin when he parked correctly- nearly scratching a car in the process, but he was still able to park right.

“How did I do? Rate me 5/5 stars please, I crave validation from my peers.”

Wilbur leans back exasperated, stomach still swirling and turning. “0/5. Do you even have a license?”

Tommy tilts his head almost cat-like.

“I don’t need a license. They failed me three times, but they’re wrong. I am my own drivers license.”

“Gods- fuckin-” Wilbur drops his head in his hands, visibly regretting all his life choices. Tommy sputters next to him.

“Wh- I followed all the laws-”

“You nearly ran a guy off the road!”

“But he cut me off!” Tommy whines childishly, unlocking the door and throwing off his seatbelt.

“That doesn’t mean you chase him down!” Wilbur hisses, undoing his own seatbelt and sliding out of his seat.

“Yes it does! He needed to pay for his crimes!”

“Cutting someone off isn’t a crime.”

“And chasing after him is? I hate it here.” Tommy scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“It’s literally road rage, Tommy.”

The grocery trip- didn’t go very well. They achieved their goal at the very least- Tommy picked up two twelve-packs of Coke and Wilbur thought that would be it- but no, Tommy always has to wreck destruction wherever he goes. Immediately upon entering the store Tommy tried to kick a woman’s shopping cart over- his excuse being that she had a child in the cart and the child looked like they knew more than him- Wilbur had to physically pry Tommy away as the woman looked horrified at the blonde’s wide vocabulary of curse words.

It didn’t get much better from there. Wilbur had to keep a keen eye on Tommy the entire time while hauling his heavy boxes of soda- Tommy insisted he carry it, fucking spoiled prick- Tommy would try to snag things to steal, no matter what it was he grabbed. Hot sauce, a pillow, small toys, spaghetti- basically anything within grabbing distance, and Wilbur would have to keep an eye on him to make sure Tommy hadn’t shoved anything in his pockets. He’s basically babysitting at this point.

At one point Wilbur had turned away for a second- a solid second- and Tommy disappeared from his side. On the other side of the store, he heard a woman scream, and Wilbur rushed towards the noise, now knowing exactly where Tommy was.

When Wilbur finally got to where the scream came from, a woman was arguing with Tommy, who, by the looks of it, climbed the shelves and knocked over a bunch of spaghetti sauce. Red sauce splattered all over the ground like a murderer scene- and an employee rushed over and began to yell at Tommy to get off the shelf along with the frightened woman.

Wilbur sighed. He’s not paying for this, Tommy will.

Eventually Wilbur was able to pry Tommy off the shelves and apologize to the frightened woman and the employee, promising that they’ll pay for the sauce Tommy dropped- what the fuck, has Tommy ever been in a grocery store before?

It felt like the walk of shame after they payed the price of the sauce and the soda, and Wilbur made Tommy dump his pockets out to see if he took anything- Tommy scoffed at that and emptied his pockets without any problem, and surprisingly he had nothing stolen on him.

Wilbur put the two twelve-packs of soda into a shopping cart and they passed by the small area at the entrance of the store where little claw machines were stationed- full of plushies and trinkets that nobody had gotten, because the claw machines were obviously rigged.

Tommy takes a single glance at the machines and his eyes light up like stars at something inside of them, and before Wilbur knew it, Tommy is already dragging him and the cart towards the machines.

“Wilbur! Look at that!”

Tommy points to a specific plushie inside the claw machine- it’s an orca, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Wilbur huffs and glanced over amused at Tommy, who is already pulling out his wallet.

“I’m gonna win you that, Wil!”

“Wh-” Wilbur gasps, “Me?”

Tommy nods determinedly, eyes locked on the desired whale plush on top of the pile of various other plushies, pushing the money into the slot of the machine and placing his hands on the joysticks. He turns to Wilbur with a cocky grin.

“I’m a pro at Mario Kart, watch me beat this first try.”

Tommy did not get the whale first try.

Mario Kart doesn’t have anything to do with claw machines either-

He positioned it right- he had Wilbur check for him on the other side of the claw machine- but when the claw dropped and encased around the plushie, it held it up for a moment before the whale slipped out of the claw’s grip. Tommy’s brows furrowed and Wilbur held back a laugh.

Tommy was already pulling out another five dollars before Wilbur could stop him.

“Again.”

And so Tommy kept feeding the machine all his money, dead determined to win this random whale plushie for Wilbur, and Wilbur couldn’t lie and say that his heart hadn’t warmed up at the dedication, but Tommy’s gonna waste all his money at some point-

After another attempt failed, Tommy huffs in frustration and kicks the machine. Wilbur winces at the loud bang it made and looks over his shoulder to make sure no employees were coming. He turns back to the stubborn teen who is pulling out another five bucks.

“Again.”

“Tommy,” Wilbur says exasperatedly with a smile on his face, “You don’t need to get me the whale. I’m alright.”

Tommy’s brows furrow and he looks over to Wilbur unconvinced. After a moment he turns back to the claw machine and pockets his five dollars.

“Cover me.” He calls over his shoulder.

Wilbur blinks. “What?”

“I said, cover me!”

With that Tommy crouches down and just- sticks his arm into the bottom of the machine where the plushie was supposed to fall into. Wilbur stood dumbfounded- watching the younger boy fumble around with half his arm bent awkwardly searching around the machine, feeling around for the whale plush.

After a couple grueling moments of Tommy struggling to twist his hand in the right angle, he snatches the whale and slithers his arm out of the machine, banging his elbow on the side in the process- Tommy jumps up from where he’d been crouched on the ground with a triumphant grin and holds out the whale to Wilbur.

“I always win claw machines. Here you go.”

Wilbur takes the plush whale numbly, a warm tingling sensation in his chest and confusion rising on his face.

“What- why did you steal this for me?”

“It’s not stealing if no one finds out.” Tommy retorts, obviously ignoring the main point of the question but already turning away from Wilbur and back to the cart, wheeling it over to the exit. Wilbur stays rooted in place with a funny twisted expression, staring at the small whale plush in his palms.

Tommy shifts, the cart still by his side, waiting for Wilbur at the exit of the grocery store.

“You coming?”

Wilbur tears his gaze away from the whale plush in his hands, looking to where Tommy is leaning bored against the cart and nods, following Tommy as he wheeled their stuff out of the store.

Wilbur glances down at the whale plush one last time, a smile forming on his face.

Maybe Tommy isn’t so bad.

————

Wilbur and Tommy walk back to their college campus, both agreeing that they’d keep the keys for now and let Ranboo find his car in the morning- it was cruel, but Wilbur genuinely didn’t think he could stomach another ride with Tommy, and Tommy was strangely compliant when Wilbur asked if they could walk back to the college campus instead.

The stars twinkle above them and the moon is full of life, shining light down upon them until they’re nearly visible to each other. The night is quiet aside from their mixed breathing and the rolling of shopping cart wheels over the cracks of the sidewalk- it’s peaceful, serene. Wilbur doesn’t even notice how Tommy wheels a shopping cart along with them, too busy humming a small tune to himself that is on the verge of becoming a few notes for a new song. Lamppost lights flicker on and off, only adding to the ambience, and the college campus quickly came into view faster than Wilbur had wanted it to. He was enjoying the peace and the warmth that had settled in his chest.

Wilbur sighs, opening his mouth to speak when he is interrupted by the loud slamming of footsteps behind them.

Wilbur falters and takes a glance behind him- Tommy keeps walking faster, almost nonchalantly- around the corner, there is an employee from the grocery store running wildly at them, shouting something garbled that drifts away in the wind and lands on deaf ears, and Wilbur freezes. Tommy steadily begins to speed up, whistling to himself and taking sheepish glances back at Wilbur.

Wilbur catches up to Tommy and stares at the employee running towards them.

“Why’s that person running towards us?”

Tommy hums, ignoring Wilbur’s question and starts to speed-walk faster with a wild grin on his face. Wilbur races to catch up and the steps behind them still hadn’t faded. Finally, with one last glance over his shoulder, Tommy breaks into a run, pushing the cart in front of him and nearly leaving Wilbur in the dust.

A mischievous glint flickers in Tommy’s eye as he turns to face Wilbur, still running along with the younger boy fast.

“I stole a shopping cart.”

Wilbur’s face falls, eyes devoid and resigned to his fate- he hadn’t even noticed, his mind was too muddled- and runs faster with Tommy, ignoring the younger’s boisterous laugh as they outran the employee with a stolen shopping cart.

Wilbur takes it back.

Tommy’s a terror.

Chapter Text

Wilbur stiffens and wakes up to a loud creaking. He silently curses himself in his head. He doesn’t understand how he wakes up so often to such small noises.

Wilbur glances at the clock in the bedside table.

3:01 AM.

Huh. Maybe he would’ve been more concerned if he hadn’t been so annoyed about waking up. Wilbur focuses his glare at the ceiling before closing his eyes and trying to go to sleep again.

He nearly drifts off when something on his leg twitches.

Then it twitches again, and Wilbur’s leg begins to get tingly-

Then it starts to crawl.

Wilbur jolts up, throws off his covers, and shrieks.

A giant shadowy spider is crawling up his leg-

Wilbur scrambles out of bed with another shriek and flails  his leg around in some kind of funky dance, trying to get the spider off as it continued clinging onto his leg. Shudders wracked up and down Wilbur’s body as he panicked- the spider kept clinging onto him and scrambling around on his leg, avoiding Wilbur’s kicks.

He hears a familiar boisterous laugh before warm hands gently stop him from kicking again and takes the spider off his leg.

The lights flicker on, and there is Tommy, standing smugly with Shroud in hand.

“Tommy?!”

“Ayup.”

“What,” Wilbur stammers, eyes flittering between the spider that had just been on his leg and the blonde, who’s having a hard time holding back his giggles, “What was that for?!”

Tommy shrugs, eyes wide and energetic. “For funsies. I was bored, Shroud was bored. It was bound to happen eventually.”

It’s only then Wilbur notices how the other is bouncing on the tips of his toes, energy coursing and buzzing through his body hyperactively. Tommy’s eyes are wide and unaffected by sleep, darting this way and that like a rabid raccoon, left eye twitching minutely every once in a while. A glance to the side- and Wilbur can see the pile of soda cans had doubled in size.

Wilbur holds back a sigh. They just got those two twelve-packs and Tommy drank it all- that really isn’t healthy, Wilbur should stage an intervention for Tommy’s caffeine addiction- the stress of midterms and finals hadn’t even started yet and Tommy was already made of pure caffeine. Wilbur refuses to go back to that grocery store- even if they weren’t recognized by the employees they bothered there, the shopping cart sitting in the corner of their dorm room is proof enough to get them banned for an eternity.

Wilbur takes a deep breath- steeling all his anger and tiredness into one giant ball of negativity while Tommy buzzed around him, cooing at his spider.

“Tommy, I was trying to sleep-”

“Sleep is for the weak.” Tommy smiles broadly, eyes dazed and unfocused, “I am the strongest here and you are weak.”

Wilbur opened his mouth to tell Tommy how fucking stupid he is when a knocking from Tommy’s side of the room interrupts him. Both boys found themselves staring at the wall while the knocking continued from the other side.

Then, in a loud, muffled voice-

“Tommy, it’s three in the GODDAMN MORNING. SHUT THE FUCK UP.”

Tommy flounders for a moment before walking the rest of the distance to the wall and knocking back.

“But Tubbo- you don’t understand, I’m really bored and-”

“Tommy. SLEEP. NOW.”

“Okay,” Tommy whispers with a grin, “We’ll be quieter. Wilbur was the one shouting anyways.”

Tubbo didn’t reply and Tommy stalked away from the wall with Shroud hanging off his forearm. Wilbur rubs his eyes and stifled on a yawn before staring daggers at the blonde boy and continuing where he left off.

“I swear to gods- if this happens again, Tommy, I’ll drown him. I’ll dump him in a bowl of water.”

Maybe threatening his roommate’s pet wasn’t the best course of action, but at this point Wilbur could care less, his precious sleep has already been compromised by that stupid fucking spider.

Tommy shrugs unbothered, letting Shroud crawl across his arms. “Nice try, dickhead. Tarantulas can swim.”

“I-” Wilbur reels back, “They can what?”

“They kinda just float on top of the water because they have a hydrophobic cubicle, but yeah, in other words, they can swim.” Tommy smiles, gathering Shroud up in his palms and cooing at it.

Wilbur regards the scene with poorly hid disgust. He didn’t want to know that spiders could swim. He’s better off without that knowledge, thank you very much.

“No harm will come to Shroud. You can threaten him all you want, but if you touch him, I will bite you.” Tommy concludes, petting the top of the tarantula’s head protectively. Wilbur sighs.

“I wasn’t gonna touch him in the first place. Please just put him to bed now.” Wilbur pleads tiredly, wiping at his face again for dried drool.

“Oh.” Tommy blanks, staring at Wilbur with an expression he can’t decipher, “I thought you were gonna threaten to microwave him next.”

Wilbur cocks his head confused and a little offended. “Now why would I do that?”

“I dunno. It just seemed like a very Wilbur thing to do. Microwave a guy’s baby.” Tommy puts Shroud back in his terrarium with a shrug and flops onto his own bed.

Wilbur frowns and shakes his head, ignoring how Tommy referred to his spider as his baby. “That’s too far. I wouldn’t do that to you, no matter how much I hate that spider.”

“Tarantula.” Tommy corrected, turning off the lights and flopping back on his bed. The lights flickered off and the room divulged back into darkness.

Wilbur tramples back to his bed and scoffs.

“Shut the fuck up.”

—————

Another long week trudges by and aside from having to constantly take care of himself and make sure Tommy doesn’t wreck havoc on the world, college wasn’t going too terribly so far. Wilbur has an essay in one of his required classes due soon- he tried to make Techno do it for him somehow but the other wouldn’t budge and even threatened to get Phil involved if Wilbur kept pestering him.

Aside from the mundane essay he had been procrastinating to do, his relationship with his roommate hadn’t been going anywhere. It wasn’t getting worse and it wasn’t getting anymore positive- it’s stagnant. They live together, and that’s all there is to it.

Wilbur would work out lyrics for possible new songs while Tommy usually hung out with Tubbo or Ranboo. They had become as thick as thieves, with Tommy feeding ideas into Tubbo’s head, inspiring the smaller brunette to create whatever genius ideas Tommy comes up with, and Ranboo being the parent of the two and trying desperately to corral them away from their destructive tendencies. It hasn’t worked. Last Wilbur had heard from the three was that Tubbo had begun trying to figure out how to make a nuke. That’ll go well, for sure.

Other than times they’d meet together after classes, Wilbur and Tommy never really talked that much (apart from Tommy’s unbelievable energy at three a.m-). He and Tommy weren’t all that close. They simply- tolerated each other.

Which was why Wilbur was surprised when Tommy suddenly invited him to a party out of the blue.

“A party?”

Tommy’s grin widens and he nods, the shifting on his feet giving away his nerves.

“Yeah, Tubbo and Ranboo are going too. You should come too. Y’know, get out a bit. Live a little.”

Wilbur squints from where he had smudged his pen lines over his music sheet again, and Tommy’s grin became strained and uncomfortable as he awaited Wilbur’s answer nervously.

Wilbur turns slowly around in his chair.

“You. Want me. To go to a party with you.”

Tommy nods- a bit too fast from the grimace on his face, and shifts on his feet again. The younger boy is nervous- what for, Wilbur can’t tell.

Wilbur glances from Tommy to his work and back to Tommy again. Tommy’s expression was of feigned disinterest, even when his eyes flickered across Wilbur’s face hopefully. In some strange way, Wilbur feels responsible for the younger boy. Not only does he want to make sure Tommy wouldn’t cause destruction, but he also wants to make sure the boy is safe in general. He doesn’t know why that is- but now that he feels responsible for his younger roommate, he knows what he is going to do.

Wilbur bites back a smile and sighs.

“Alright, sure. Someone’s gotta babysit you and make sure you don’t get wasted.”

Out of the corner of his eye he can see Tommy light up, a smile twitching on his face and nerves melting away before he smothers it up with a scowl and crossed arms.

“You don’t need to babysit me! I’m not a child, Wilbur.”

“Coulda fooled me.” Wilbur mutters under his breath with a grin, bursting into laughter when Tommy chucks a pen at the back of his knit beanie.

“I’ll uninvite you.” Tommy threatens while holding back a grin, “Tubbo and Ranboo will go with me.”

Wilbur rolls his eyes. “That’ll go well for sure.”

“I don’t like sarcasm, Wilbur.”

Wilbur snorts despite himself, a wry grin stretching across his face. Tommy dropped the huffy attitude and smiled wider before suddenly skipping across the room and throwing his shoes on.

“It’s on Friday by the way- ‘m gonna go do some crimee now- see ya Bitchbur!”

Wilbur drops his head into his hands, hearing how Tommy’s excited footsteps get farther and farther away after he slammed the dorm room shut. Wilbur pinches his brow and doesn’t look up.

“Please just don’t get arrested.” He mutters quietly to himself as he goes back to his work.

Friday comes sooner than Wilbur expected. He was in his zone and halfway through the first draft of his essay when Tommy nearly busted down the door with Tubbo and Ranboo in tow and yelling for Wilbur to hurry and get his shoes on, they’ve got a party to get to. 

In all honesty, Wilbur had completely forgotten that he promised to go, so very begrudgingly, he saved his work and changed into the nicest outfit he could find- a knit yellow sweater with glasses, can’t be too fancy- and followed Tommy and his friends out the door. Tommy hadn’t bothered changing- but Tubbo and Ranboo had made an effort to at least look like they hadn’t just rolled out of bed. Tubbo wore a green dress shirt over some casual blue jeans- the buttons on the shirt were nearly falling off and some were buttoned incorrectly, but the boy didn’t seem to care too much. Ranboo on the other hand wore a too-nice suit with a red tie- an outfit that completely contrasted his usual fit of a Hawaiian shirt. The boy kept his two toned mask and sunglasses on, and he kept on nervously playing with his pockets. Wilbur deduced that he’d probably been forced to come but was trying to stay positive for his friends.

Tubbo and Ranboo make no comment on the shopping cart stationed in the corner of the room while Tommy argues with Wilbur about how they can use the shopping cart as their mode of transportation to the party. Wilbur practically shoves the boy away from the shopping cart and out into the hallway, locking the door behind them and declaring that they’ll walk instead. Tubbo and Ranboo agree pretty easily and Tommy whines the entire way down the stairs until Wilbur kicks his heel to make him stop. From there, they walk the streets.

The air is chilly and the wind bites at the group’s cheeks as they walk the sidewalk to wherever the party is (Tommy has an address in mind but Wilbur is sure they’d get lost at least once, so he gave up trying to navigate on his own-), avoiding the grocery store as they passed by it much to Tubbo and Ranboo’s confusion.

The air is chilly as the moon gradually made her ascent into the night sky, the sounds of crickets being shoved down by the group’s footsteps and by Tommy excessively jumping into puddles whenever he’d find them. Fog tickles the edges of their vision and obscures streets and buildings in a veil of grey. Wilbur rubs his arms and wishes he had the foresight to bring a jacket- the wind bit through his knit sweater and he’s sure his nose was a bright red from the cold. The other’s weren’t faring much better aside from Tommy, who acted as if the cold wasn’t even there, getting his jeans soaked in puddles and splashing Wilbur whenever he could. The wind blew leaves to and fro and the clouds partially covered the moon- making the ambience feel much creepier than it should’ve.

“I could’ve driven us all there if I knew where my car was.” Ranboo complains sadly, his hands shoved in his pockets.

Tubbo tilts his head questioningly. “How’d you lose your car?”

Ranboo throws his hands up in the air, feigning exhasperation. “I have literally no clue! My keys are gone too! I don’t know how my car just- disappeared overnight.”

Wilbur cringes, willing himself to not speak up.

They forgot to tell Ranboo about the grocery incident.

And the whole stealing-his-car bit.

A glance to Tommy showed the younger poorly hiding his snickers, eyes shining knowingly and hands being pressed to his mouth to hide his smile. Wilbur sighs and continues walking along in the chilly air, tuning out Tubbo and Ranboo’s conversation.

After getting lost a few times (thanks to Tommy), Tommy eventually gives up on trying to find the building on his own and instead typed the address into the gps on his phone, cackling quietly to himself as Tubbo smacked his arm when they had to turn 180 degrees and walk the exact opposite way. As it turns out, they had already passed the building twice, and from the delighted glint in Tommy’s eye Wilbur can tell that Tommy had already known they passed by it multiple times.

He’s convinced Tommy is a literal demon.

By the time they make it to the cross walk that’s closest to their destination, Tommy had gotten tired of jumping though puddles and is now waiting on the rest of the group impatiently.

Tommy bounces on his toes at the edge of the sidewalk. “C’mon let’s go let’s go!”

Before they can stop him, the blonde is already stepping off the sidewalk and onto the street.

It feels like it happened in slow motion.

A bright light cutting through the fog shining in his peripheral vision, the excessively loud blaring of a horn, the rumble of tire meeting tar, and his own arm shooting out to snag Tommy’s hood.

Wilbur managed to pull Tommy back just as a streak of white and green blared past exactly where Tommy had once stood, the angry screaming of a horn paired with the gust of wind from the fast speed nearly sending them both to their feet.

Then it was gone.

For a minute or two the group stood there, trying to calm their racing hearts and stop their knees from buckling. Well, Wilbur was at least, hands shaking as he holds Tommy by his hoodie close to him-

That was so close-

Way too fucking close-

The chill of the night is filled with harsh breaths- people trying to figure out what to say-

“Holy shit.” Tommy finally says, turning to face Tubbo, “I nearly just died.”

Tubbo snorts and the tension falls away. “Yup, you nearly got flattened, big man.”

“Oh gods.” Ranboo face palms, using his other hand to snag Tommy’s sleeve as if expecting Tommy to run headfirst into traffic again, “You nearly got hit by a bus and you’re already joking about it.”

Tommy smiles impishly at the taller, but Wilbur can see how shaken up the boy was from the tremor in his hand that he keeps close to his chest.

“I’m all good! Just another Friday for Tommy Danger Kraken-”

Tubbo places a hand over his mouth. “No. Stop.”

Tubbo jolts away in disgust and wipes his hand on his trousers, and by Tommy’s devilish grin Wilbur can only guessed what happened.

They still have to cross the road.

Finally able to find his voice, Wilbur turns to Tommy. Wilbur still hadn’t let go of Tommy’s hoodie, and Tommy made no move to move away, so they stayed in that position.

“Are you sure you still want to go to the party? If you aren’t feeling up to it, we can just go back and binge movies if you want.”

Tommy blinks wide at the softer tone- something unheard from from Wilbur, but for fucks sake- Tommy nearly got hit by a bus, he’ll be as vulnerable as he wants-

Hesitantly, Tommy pries Wilbur’s fingers away from his hoodie and steps back. “I said I’m okay! Honestly, I’d hate to ruin your fun for something as silly as this. I’ll be fine.”

Wilbur nods unsurely as Tommy puffs out his chest- an act, of course, but he wouldn’t comment on it. Tubbo and Ranboo exchange equally amused and concerned glances with each other as Tommy presses the light for crossing.

The lights turn red and the passing cars come to a halt, and the crosswalk is now their runway. Almost as if sensing the other’s hesitation, Tubbo steps out in front and begins to walk to the other side of the street, Ranboo quickly following behind him with hurried steps. Hesitantly, Wilbur and Tommy follow, and no buses come to steal their precious lives away.

If Tommy clung onto Wilbur’s sleeve through the entirety of the crossing, Wilbur didn’t say a word.

—————

Tommy seemed to be mostly over the close call by the time they make it to the apartment building, but the incident still hadn’t gotten off of Wilbur’s mind. About how close that was- how fast his nightmare almost became a reality-

Tommy and Tubbo joke together as they enter the elevator with Wilbur and Ranboo on their heels- Wilbur can already hear the party raging from multiple floors below, it’s that loud. Ranboo shifts uncomfortably next to him and Wilbur feels a small pit of pity in his chest. Wilbur usually does okay in party scenes, but he can tell Ranboo will have a harder time from how nervous the boy seems to be. In that moment, Wilbur makes it his mission to try to keep Ranboo as comfortable as he can.

The elevator dings and Tubbo and Tommy bolt out with a laugh, racing each other down the narrow hallway with pounding footsteps that hardly made a difference to the thundering music coming out from one of the rooms. Wilbur can already feel his mental energy draining as he and Ranboo follow the two hyperactive boys at their own pace, Ranboo fiddling nervously with his pockets and Wilbur adjusting the beanie over his head.

Tubbo and Tommy bounce on their toes in front of one of the doors in the hallway as they wait impatiently for Wilbur and Ranboo to catch up. Colored lights flash and flicker from underneath the door and the music is almost unbearably loud- through it all, Wilbur can hear the sounds of people laughing and joking, yelling and talking ear-gratingly loud. From the excited looks of Tommy and Tubbo’s faces, you’d think they had completely forgot about the incident that transpired five minutes earlier.

“Is it in here?” Ranboo asks when the duo finally makes it to the flashing door. Tubbo nods.

“I think we can just go inside, it’s not like they’ll be able to kick us out anyways.” Tubbo chirps, one hand already on the doorknob. Wilbur holds back another sigh at the implied threat in Tubbo’s sentence.

How these three had managed to graduate high school, Wilbur had no clue.

Inside the room is even more chaotic than what he was hearing from the outside- it’s dark yet the flashing colored lights illuminated the room and strained on his eyes, and Wilbur is hit with a wave of nausea as soon as the door closes behind him. The music’s coming from a stereo on full blast- the sound is a lot less muffled when inside the party than from outside, but still loud enough to get a hefty amount of noise complaints. The room is more crowded than Wilbur had originally thought, with a mob of people gathered in the middle jumping and laughing and dancing with each other, some clearly intoxicated and some not.

Tables around the room held drinks of all kinds- Wilbur assumes most contained alcohol of some sort. He quickly snags Tommy’s sweater to stop him from getting any smart ideas.

Wilbur’s hesitant to continue going inside- it’s overwhelming and his head was already pounding from the loud noises and bright lights. Wilbur doesn’t usually get too overwhelmed by party scenes but this is a lot, especially in such a cramped space. There are spaces on the sides where less people mingled and where there’s space to actually breathe- he doesn’t want to hold Tommy back, but at the moment heading over to the less crowded areas would be the best plan for him. Ranboo can come with him- it seemed as if the boy’s nerves spiked the moment they entered the overwhelming atmosphere. Wilbur doubts Tubbo and Tommy will actually be responsible here-

A loud familiar laughing that reaches over the pounding music startles Wilbur- he looks toward the source to find a recognizable sillouhette taking shots of vodka while laughing recklessly, walking as if he had two left feet.

Wilbur squints at the figure and reels back.

Is that fucking Schlatt?

Oh gods- Wilbur can recognize those mutton chops anywhere-

“Tommy.” Wilbur hisses, tugging Tommy to the side a bit as Ranboo and Tubbo venture further into the bright lights of the party, “You never told me Schlatt was here.”

Tommy tilts his head irritated, pulling his arm away from Wilbur. “Well yeah, it’s his party. I didn’t know you knew Schlatt.”

Wilbur grits his teeth. “Unfortunately.”

He can never forget his former roommate and how he trashed the dorm and made Wilbur’s stress topple over on him. Schlatt getting drunk every night and flunking his classes, then encouraging Wilbur to do the same, is the reason he switched anyways. It looks like Schlatt had switched out of the dorm and into an apartment off-campus, and it looks like Tommy had somehow caught his attention enough to become friends.

Great.

Maybe they can avoid him. That, or Wilbur goes back early. Maybe Schlatt’ll be too drunk on his feet to properly recognize him-

“Wilbur!!”

Fuck.

“Hey man,” Schlatt had sidled up to the group, crossing the room easily with the grace of a bull in a china shop, nearly running over multiple people on the way, “It’s great to see ya Wilbur! You disappeared on me man, where’d ya go?”

“Away.” Wilbur says dryly. Schlatt chuckles. The man was clearly drunk, Wilbur had long since recognized the signs- slurred speech, wobbly legs, and the smell-

Maybe accompanying Tommy here wasn’t a very good idea-

“Ah, well,” Schlatt shrugs, his drink nearly sloshing out of the plastic red cup in his hand, “You’re not that important anyways. Tommy, I’m glad you made it! Who’re these people?”

Tommy seemed a bit off-put by Schlatt but forced a bright grin nonetheless.

“I brought my friends if you don’t mind,” Tommy gestures to the three of them and Wilbur denies the warmth that stirs up in his chest at being referred to as Tommy’s friend, “The short one is Tubbo, you already know Wilbur for some reason, and the stupidly tall bitch is Ranboo.”

Schlatt grins drunkenly and nods to each of them, skipping over Wilbur and looking up to Ranboo, who shrinks back at the eye contact.

“You’re a tall fucker, aren’t ‘cha.”

Ranboo shrinks back even more, nervousness and confusion evident in his posture.

“uH- yeah?”

Schlatt laughs too loudly. Ranboo makes an awkward attempt at a laugh back at Schlatt with his hands stuck in his pockets, shoulders hunched nervously. Wilbur found himself scooting closer to the taller in some form of comfort from the bright lights and loud noises.

“Right,” Schlatt’s smile drops as he nods to Wilbur and takes a swig from his red cup, “Enjoy the party, go crazy.”

Tommy takes the chance to grin and put his hand up to his head in a mock salute. “Go crazy. Got it.”

Wilbur sighs.

Schlatt takes another gulp from his red cup and stumbles into Ranboo, sending the taller nearly crashing into him. Schlatt shoves him off easily, hardly even noticing how rough he was as he left back to the table with all the alcohol on it. Tubbo quickly came to his friend’s side as Ranboo came closer to the group with a stutter in his step, wary eyes and arms hovering by his sides, hands no longer being shoved in his pockets.

“You okay?” Tommy asks, peering behind Ranboo to glance at Schlatt again. Ranboo swallows harshly and nods albeit shakily.

“Yup.”

Wilbur levels him with a sympathetic look. “If it gets too overwhelming for you, I’d be glad to sit in the hallway with you for some fresh air.”

Ranboo took a shuddering breath and nodded jerkily.

“Yeah- I’m okay now though. I’ll- I’ll stay.”

Tubbo hooks his arm with Ranboo’s. “You’ll be safe with us Boss-man! Don’t worry!”

Ranboo sighs. “Right, right, how could I ever forget.”

Ranboo’s nerves never seemed to melt away, no matter how much Tommy and Tubbo tried to reassure him.

Tubbo and Ranboo then went to the nearest table to grab some food and drinks (they assured Wilbur that they’d only grab soda- nothing else-) and came back with four cups toppled against each other in Ranboo’s arms, each at risk of spilling onto the ground and creating a mess. Tubbo was looking very smug with himself while walking back over to them, carrying absolutely nothing. Ranboo hurriedly gave each person of their group a cup of soda before sighing in relief to himself, then whirling on Tubbo and reprimanding him for forcing Ranboo to handle the drinks on his own.

The two engaged in back and forth banter while Wilbur watched amusedly- both Ranboo’s nerves visibly melting away and the ruckus of the party around them fading away. There is something missing.

Tommy stares into his cup of coke as if it were the most interesting thing in the world, brows furrowed and frown etched deeply into his face. Wilbur pokes the smaller’s shoulder.

“Something wrong?” Wilbur prods. Tommy snaps out of his stupor and shakes his head with a laugh.

“Nah. I’ve got a weird feeling. It’s probably because I have never been to one of these parties before.”

Wilbur nods and squeezes the younger’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

Tommy nodded again, more to himself than to Wilbur. “Yeah, I’m all good.” The boy then absently stared into the crowd, looking for any familiar faces. Wilbur did the same.

“Oh!” Tommy lights up with eyes locked on something in the mix of people mingling around, “Dream! Over here!”

Wilbur stands onto his tiptoes to peer over the room and to find whoever Tommy’s calling for- even though he’s one of the tallest in the room, second only to Ranboo, it was hard to distinguish the people from eachother. It’s like a giant mess of limbs and people mushed together. Someone in the middle of the room looks up and makes brief eye contact (with Tommy, Wilbur assumed) before grabbing their friends arms and squeezing their way past bodies of people. When the finally make it to the less crowded area Tommy’s group is at, Wilbur can actually make out the details of this guy’s face.

Bright green eyes squint cleverly as they look over everyone in Wilbur’s group with a coy smile on their face. He has dirty blond hair that’s wrapped into a small ponytail at the base of his neck, leaving the rest of the hair as flyaways curling around his face. The man is wearing a bright green hoodie that reflects harshly against the blinking colored lights of the room, one sleeve shoved into his pockets and the other gripping onto the arms of two others. One of the men by his side wears large white glasses and the other wears an oversized white tee with a cartoony fire graphic on it. The white goggles guy seemed to be bored out of his mind while the other seemed to be slightly tipsy, just like every other person at this party.

“Dream! I didn’t know you’d come.” Tommy mused, backing up into Tubbo a bit. Dream’s eyes gleam.

“Of course I came. Wouldn’t miss it.” The dirty blonde chuckles, bringing the people on his sides forward more. “I don’t think you’ve met George and Sapnap before. This is George-” Dream gestures to the half asleep boy beside him with white goggles, “-and this is Sapnap.” Dream then gestures to the other person who is slightly more tipsy than Wilbur had anticipated from the way he swayed on his feet and leaned onto George for support.

Tommy grins at the two newcomers, “You guys are friends with Dream, eh? That must suck.”

Dream wheezes at the sudden statement and George nods in wholehearted agreement.

“Yeah.” Was all he said in reply. Dream pushed him lightly and nearly sent Sapnap falling to the ground from how he was leaning on George. Tommy then took the time to wrap his arms around Ranboo and Wilbur’s shoulders, bringing them down to his height.

“Wilbur, Ranboob- that’s Dream from one of my film classes. He’s a fuckin prick.” Tommy whispers loudly and Wilbur grimaces at the sly grin on Dream’s face, giving away the fact that he knew exactly what Tommy was talking about.

Ranboo pauses before speaking up. “I honestly thought you guys were friends. Why else would you call him over?”

Tommy scoffs and shoots Dream the middle finger with one arm wrapped around Wilbur’s shoulders, still having made no move to let go. Dream shoots him one back before nodding at Wilbur and Ranboo respectively and going to chase after Sapnap, who had wandered over to the drinks table again.

“Love-hate relationship. Love the guy some days, hate him other days. Mostly hate.” Tommy explains, finally letting go of Wilbur’s and Ranboo’s shoulders.

“I don’t think that’s healthy, Boss-man.” Tubbo chirps up from beside them, a second red party cup in hand. Tommy jerks back at the intrusion and Wilbur takes the liberty to peer inside of Tubbo’s cup, backing away relieved when it’s only fruit punch.

Tommy scoffs and crosses his arms. “It’s not my fault the guy is pretentious as fuck. He takes psychology as a major and film as a minor and suddenly thinks he’s the shit.” Tommy puffs his cheeks out, “He’s pretty cool sometimes but man is he annoying.”

“He’s actually in one of my classes.” Ranboo says quietly, hands shoved into his pockets with Tubbo leaning into his side.

“Then why’d you call him over?” Wilbur finds himself asking, finding a cotton thread on his sweatshirt and pulling on it. Tommy shrugs.

“I didn’t think he’d see me- and I guess it was one of those times where I wanted to see him.” Tommy pauses, thinking it over for a moment, “I guess I’m just glad to see another familiar face.”

Wilbur nods. “Yeah, I guess I can understand that.”

In an unfamiliar area, Wilbur guesses he can understand what Tommy is saying. Wilbur isn’t exactly close to Tommy, and yet he takes comfort in the fact that he’s there with him as a familiar face in the sea of blurred anonymous faces. It lets him relax, lets the background around them fade away as he focuses on having as much fun as he can with his roommate and his neighbors. Even if it were only Schlatt here instead of Tommy, Wilbur thinks he would take comfort in his drunken presence as well, no matter how horribly they ended off.

The music shifts, and Wilbur looks up at the people gathered for a split moment- a moment that clearly lasted too long, because not a second layer he is hit with a splash of fruit punch.

Wilbur gasps and Tommy snickers from next to him, one hand curled around Wilbur’s drink from where he had squeezed it to send a spray of juice in Wilbur’s face.

Wilbur grits his teeth at hearing the laughter pick up from around him and wipes his face- it’s sticky now- and glares at Tommy.

“What the hell, Tommy.”

Tommy snickers, barely hiding his shit-eating grin behind his cup.

“Lighten up a bit, Wil! Stop staring into your cup so moodily!” Tommy snatches Wilbur’s cup away from him and hands it to Ranboo, who looks like he doesn’t know what to do with it, “I didn’t invite you to be all pissy just because you don’t like Schlatt.”

Wilbur rolls his eyes and Tommy takes that as acceptance.

“Okay!” Tommy nods to himself and hooks an arm with Ranboo, “Ranboo, let’s go. We’re getting drunk tonight!”

Wilbur slaps a hand over his face and grabs Tommy’s hood before he can get too far.

“No you are not.”

Tommy scoffs and drops Ranboo’s arm.

“Killjoy.”

—————

Wilbur didn’t know how it happened.

One minute he was laughing with Tommy, enjoying one of the few times where he and his roommate didn’t bicker and argue. And in the next, Tommy was being pulled into the crowd by an assuming Tubbo or Ranboo, and then he was gone, and Wilbur was alone.

And Tommy is nowhere to be seen.

Of course Tubbo and Ranboo would devise a plan to take him away-

Without the comfort of someone he knew, the party felt louder and the walls felt closer than they had before, and Wilbur felt terribly out of place. Wilbur grumbles to himself as he stands on his tip toes, looking for the golden blonde hair he’d become so familiar with.

He shouldn’t have come- there is no point in being there besides making sure Tommy is safe- and now Schlatt’s here and Wilbur wants to go home now-

Suddenly everything becomes too loud- the flashing colors and the pounding music divulging into a splitting headache that makes Wilbur nearly choke on his drink.

He needs space. Or- a break. Maybe he’ll find Tommy on the way. Maybe Tubbo dragged him off to go take a break with Ranboo and they just.. forgot Wilbur.

Maybe-

Right now though, he needs to get away from it all. He’s usually okay in party spaces, but this time-

There’s something off about all this.

That dread filled feeling gathered in his gut as bile rose to the back of his throat, and Wilbur knew he had to get away. He takes the long way- around the people gathered in the center playing games and towards the drinks tables, then around the drink tables until he’s at the opposite side of the room. There’s a small hallway that leads to a few rooms. Only one has a light on.

Maybe Tommy’s in there. Or maybe it’s a random person, and Wilbur is about to embarrass himself.

Wilbur knocks.

“Anyone in here?”

He waits, and no one responds to him. Wilbur knocks again, feeling unease slither up his back.

Nothing again.

Wilbur huffs, the flashes of colors from the party raging behind him blinding him and making his vision go fuzzy in the edges- his chest feels impossibly tight and he still has no idea where Tommy is (or why he even cares that much-) and everything is so overwhelming.

He needs to find Tommy.

He needs space to clear his head.

“Hello?! Anyone in here?” Wilbur calls again, banging his fist on the door once more.

Nothing.

He tries the doorknob. It twists all the way, but the door won’t budge.

It isn’t locked.

It’s jammed.

Wilbur slams into the door with his shoulder- the lights are too bright, his mind is too stuffy and all he knows was that he needs space-

The door falls open and Wilbur stumbles into the room, catching himself on the sink and breathing heavy breaths. The door was jammed, and now he’s inside. He’s in a bathroom of some sort based on the sink and the mirror he stumbled in on. No one had screeched at him to get out which means-

Wilbur glances towards where he assumes the shower would be and-

Oh.

It’s Schlatt.

His former roommate is propped up against the tub with a red party cup sitting loosely in his hand, face tilted away from Wilbur- but from the gross puke covering the toilet seat and trailing to where Schlatt was slumped over, Wilbur can assume what’s happening. A small smile twitches onto his face from the nostalgia of it all- not good nostalgia, mostly bitter memories of helping Schlatt clean up after puking out his guts- though this is very reminiscent of all those times.

“Schlatt, this is seriously going to fuck you over one day.” Wilbur chides bitterly, coming closer a bit, “At least get to your bed so you can sleep this off.”

Wilbur expected a grunt or a groan of some sort, something that showed Schlatt acknowledged him in his drunken state, but he got nothing. A frown made its way to Wilbur’s face.

Did he finally drink himself unconscious?

If so- that’s kinda hilarious. Hopefully after this he’ll ease up on the alcohol. Wilbur doubts it.

Wilbur crouches down next to the man, ignoring how wierd it feels to be next to his ex-roommate again. He taps Schlatt’s shoulder and prepares to help the man up by turning him around.

“C’mon Schlatt, let’s get you to bed-”

Wilbur’s breath catches in his throat.

From where Wilbur is crouched, he has perfect view of Schlatt’s face which had been previously tilted away from him and laying against the tub. Now, he can see Schlatt’s glazed out eyes, pupils blown out wide as he seemingly stared into nothing- there’s no light in his eyes, no life-

Drool had made its way out of his lips, mouth slightly agape with puke lining the edge of his chin and dribbling onto his shirt- there is a sheen of sweat on his forehead and neck, clothes rumpled and wet.

Wilbur scrambles away, not even noticing how fast his breaths came out-

His pants are soiled as well.

He looks like he’s-

“..Schlatt?” Wilbur’s voice is quieter than he intended and shakier than he’d like to admit.

Schlatt doesn’t respond.

“Schlatt??” Wilbur prods more forcefully this time. Wilbur holds his breath-

Nothing.

A shuddering breath left Wilbur, and Schlatt made no move. His head lobbed down against his collarbone. Something arose inside of Wilbur- bile, dread and fear- something chilling in his bones.

Schlatt isn’t-

The tightness in his chest has returned, except this time it was as if he couldn’t breathe at all. Scrambled away from the other man, back pressed against the toilet and getting all of Schlatt’s puke all over his clothes, Wilbur was fully tunnel visioned on his former roommate.

“This isn’t- this isn’t funny Schlatt. Get up.”

Schlatt doesn’t get up.

Wilbur’s breaths come out too fast- he can’t move, arms and legs feeling numb and tingly, a chill seeping through his bones and down his back as his hands start to get clammy and sweaty- all he can hear is the sound of his own thundering heartbeat and his fast paced breaths while he’s sitting next to his ex-roommate’s corpse-

“Schlatt- get up.”

Schlatt didn’t get up.

He never will again.

The realization sent something choking up Wilbur’s throat and making him scrunch in on himself.

Schlatt’s dead.

He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead, and here Wilbur is, sitting next to his body like a fool.

How did this even happen??

Was it the alcohol? Was it something else?

His vision became blurry again, although this time he couldn’t tell whether it was from the raw emotion he was choking back or from the dizziness of his ever increasing breath. A heart thundering and pattering in his chest and a raw panic coursing though his veins- Wilbur grapples at his throat and keeps his eyes averted downwards-

He can’t look-

Fear grapples at his throat like a hungry lion, enclosing around him and limiting his ability to breathe as it strangles him. He’s never felt fear like this before, the bone-chilling fear that makes him wish this is all a nightmare when he knows better, when he knows he hates having nightmares and he still wishes this was a nightmare nonetheless- anything to make this reality disappear.

He doesn’t even realize the strangled choked sobs (or were they screams?) he was letting out- too focused on keeping himself as far away from the corpse as possible and half strangling himself with one hand.

Oh gods- what does he do, what does he do, what does he do-

Someone comes in- one pair of panicked footsteps that leads to two pairs, then three- then someone’s at his side, prying his hands away from his throat and shaking his torso. Wilbur can’t find it in him to respond, already catching sight of the body a mere foot away from him.

His senses are muddled and blurry and fuzzy- an overwhelming scent muffling his head-

Smells of almonds. Bitter.

Wilbur didn’t know what happened. One minute he was crumbled next to Schlatt’s corpse- that was it, Schlatt was literally dead- and in the next, he’s outside of the apartment room sitting on the ground next to Tommy, drifting in and out of awareness as a sea of cops enter and exit the apartment at a rapid pace, questioning people and escorting intoxicated college kids away from the bathroom.

He thinks he can hear sirens.

Tubbo and Ranboo aren’t there. Tommy squeezes his shoulder and says it’s fine. Wilbur doesn’t believe him.

Someone comes and talks to them- Wilbur couldn’t understand what they were saying, it was like he was underwater- his mind reeling and thoughts muffled and unfinished. Above all, he was tired.

Tommy waves the person away, gives them their phone number or something- Wilbur can’t find it in himself care. All that he can see is his former roommate’s corpse, rotting on the tile of his own bathroom- just like in the-

It’s engrained in his mind, the same image flashing as soon as he closes his eyes. He’s never really liked Schlatt- hated him in fact- but he didn’t deserve this. Part of him wasn’t caught up, couldn’t believe it’s really happening. Didn’t how this is real.

How did everything go to shit so fast?

There’s a pressure in his hand, and yet Wilbur stares off into the beige wall. Wilbur blinks- it’s only then he realizes there’s wet tears on his cheeks, and Tommy is at his side, squeezing his hand as if that would bring him back down to reality.

Tommy.

Tommy holds Wilbur’s hand and concentrates on the police officers walking in and out with a look of grim determination. Tommy is younger than him- this was never meant to happen, it was his first college party and it’s gone to shit. He couldn’t imagine how he must’ve been feeling.

Clearly he’s coping better, having dragged Wilbur back from wherever reality he’d been in before. Clinging onto Wilbur’s hand like a lifeline, squeezing every so often when it’s clear his thoughts start to get to him.

It’s obvious they both need the physical contact at the moment. Neither were complaining.

Wilbur swallows his fears and squeezes Tommy’s hand.

Tommy squeezes back harder.

Chapter Text

Wilbur feels cold.

He feels as though he’s receded into the back of his head, watching the events play out as if he were playing a second person POV game. His blinks get longer and his eyes get droopier, and all he has to keep him in the present is Tommy squeezing his hand as he talks to someone. A policeman, or a detective, or a nurse. Wilbur can’t remember. It’s all fuzzy.

They’re moved outside away from the police tape and the stuffy corridor so they can talk freely- someone asks Wilbur for something, his perspective and what happened- how he found Schlatt-

He recites what happened from his memory as much as he can before he chokes up and clamps his mouth closed, and Tommy waves the person off, saying they’ll call them later. He told all the important details anyways.

Wilbur’s face is wet, and he can’t tell whether it’s from the tears still prickling his eyes or from the downpour of rain- it wasn’t supposed to rain tonight, but he guessed it matched the mood.

He and Tommy are finally dismissed, soaked to the bone as the person finally finishes their mini interrogation. Wilbur numbly realizes that he has to walk back to the dorms in this weather when the person offers to drive them to their college in their police car. Tommy nods and helps guide Wilbur into the car with the help of the policeman.

In a blink, he’s back at the college, and Tommy is dragging him through the rain to get to the shelter of the dorm building. 

And when Wilbur and Tommy finally collapse into their beds, it’s 3:00 AM.

—————

When Wilbur wakes up, it’s with crusty eyes and a horribly sore throat. Tears spring to his eyes as he tries to open them, but everything feels so heavy and his head hurts. A whine nearly rips itself from his throat as he tries to sit up, but then cold, gentle hands press him back into the bed. Those same hands curl into Wilbur’s hair and Wilbur sinks again.

Wilbur finally gets the strength to peel open his eyes, wiping the crust and dried tears away. The area around his eyes sting- and if Wilbur had to guess, he’d say they were probably red and puffy. Sore. The world is blurry and his head is pounding, but any memories of the nightmares he might’ve had the night before are wiped away as a blurred face comes into view.

Wilbur’s face twists in confusion.

“Phil?”

“Hiya, mate.” Phil’s tone is soft, and Wilbur’s grateful for how he lowered his voice because his head was still pounding incessantly, “Are you up for eating anything right now?”

“Mmhg-” Wilbur struggled to sit up, his head feeling as heavy as a bowling ball, “What- what are you doing here? What-”

-happened. He was about to ask what happened and why his head hurt so much when the memories rolled in, flashes of grief and cold and Schlatt’s body hunched over by the bathtub-

Wilbur’s eyes fly open in a panic, “Tommy, where’s Tommy-”

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Phil soothes, pushing Wilbur back into bed, “He’s in the room next door with Tubbo and Ranboo, he’s safe. He called me here to make sure you weren’t alone when you woke up. He was very concerned about you when he called me, it was really sweet.”

Wilbur lets out a deep breath, pushing down the warmth stirring in his chest at Tommy’s worry for him, “I never thought anyone would ever describe the gremlin child as ‘sweet.’”

Phil hands him a hot mug sitting on the bedside table that he hadn’t noticed before, a small smile on his face, “Well, you two clearly care for each other, even if you find him annoying. It’s sweet.”

Wilbur frowns and takes a sip from the mug, humming at the sweet taste. Hot chocolate. “That’s only because of what happened- yesterday.” Wilbur clears his throat, holding back a wince at the reminder and the memories that come with it, “He’s more of a gremlin than what you’re seeing right now. Don’t fall for his act.”

Phil’s eyes softened. “He told me about what happened, er- most of what happened. Wil-”

Wilbur hurriedly takes a gulp of hot chocolate, burning his mouth in the process but successfully avoiding Phil’s eyes. He clears his throat. “I know what you’re gonna say, Phil. Schlatt’s… death has no correlation to my nightmare at all, even though it started exactly like this.”

Phil blinks at him. “And you believe that, right?”

Wilbur lowers his gaze and takes another sip of hot chocolate, slowly this time.

Phil sighs. “Wilbur, this is just a coincidence. No matter what your mind is trying to tell you right now, Schlatt dying is a coincidence. It happened first in your dream because his health was always poor in the first place, and now that you don’t live with him anymore there was no way for you to prevent it. Nothing else will happen, and it’s not your fault.”

Wilbur sets his half-empty hot chocolate on the bedside table, ignoring the tremor in his hand and the stinging in the corner of his eyes.

“You don’t know that, though. You- it- they- everyone I know could die in an accident tomorrow! Tommy- he nearly got hit by a bus yesterday, what’s to say the same won’t happen to you? Or to Techno? Or to-”

Me.

Phil sighs, scooting closer and wrapping Wilbur up in a warm hug. Wilbur melts into it, finally letting the tears soak into his friend’s shoulder.

“You’re right, none of us know when we’ll die, or how. That’s life, Wil. We’re all gonna die eventually. What’s important is that we cherish the time we have with our loved ones, so no time goes wasted.”

“I wish everyone could just live forever.” Wilbur says quietly, emotion choking up his chest. Phil cards a hand through his hair.

“If that were the case, then life would be pointless. There’d be no point in cherishing memories or appreciating the time we have with each other. Friendships and bonds would be meaningless.” Phil says, pulling away from him but never ceasing contact, keeping his hands grounded on Wilbur’s shoulders as if he’d float away if he didn’t. Wilbur leaned into the contact, knowing he’d spiral without it.

Wilbur pauses. “That- makes sense, I guess.” He wipes his eyes with a yawn, face screwing up, “It’s still shitty. I feel- bad.”

“It’s not easy seeing something like that, isn’t it.”

Wilbur swallows heavily, face pulling into a grimace.

“Yeah.”

Wilbur’s content to sit in silence with his friend, hands warmed and letting Phil ground him by focusing on the feeling of the hands sitting steadily on his shoulders, keeping him rooted to Earth. He only opens his eyes when he catches a whiff of a sweet aroma, seeing Phil bring a blueberry muffin up to his face.

“Niki whipped these up this morning when she heard you were having a hard time. They’re still warm- can you eat it right now or do you wanna wait?”

Wilbur’s stomach grumbles on cue and he flushes, ducking his head.

“Now, please. Tell her I say thank you.”

Phil hands him the muffin, and true to his word, it’s warm. “Text her yourself, mate. You might wanna check your messages anyways, apparently Tech’s been spamming you.”

Wilbur snorts and painstakingly reaches for his phone, which had fallen off his bed the night before.

“Techno? Are we talking about the same person who sends only emojis and ghosts people half the time? There’s no way-”

The rest of Wilbur’s sentence gets caught in his throat at the multitude of texts from his antisocial friend.

“Seventy.” Wilbur whispers in horror. Phil chuckles.

“He wanted to come with when I told him about the situation, but you know how he is with emotional conversations.”

Wilbur nodded, still in shock as he scrolls through all of Techno’s messages, misspellings in each sentence as if written in a panic. Wilbur quickly texts a response that yes, he is alive and is not-very-good at the moment but Phil’s here to help, adding a teasing quip at the end about how the hardened English major has gone soft.

Techno responds immediately, sending only a middle finger emoji.

Wilbur huffs a laugh, and it’s the most joy he has felt ever since the disaster that was last night. That feeling simmers as he takes a bite of his blueberry muffin, the taste almost heavenly on his tastebuds. Niki’s muffins were honestly the best thing he’d ever had from her. He quickly texts her his thanks and leans back into his pillow, Phil keeping a firm hold on his hand as he eats his own muffin.

His friends really care for him.

Does he really deserve this treatment? Tommy calling Phil for him so he wouldn’t be alone when he wakes up, Niki making him a batch of muffins, hell- even Techno showed more emotion than he usually does on a good day. The thought makes him feel strangely warm inside, even though there’s a hole resting deep in his chest that’s filled with dread. Dread for the future, worry for his friends. Empty hopelessness at his ex-roommate’s death.

Wilbur eats the last bit of his muffin before the waterworks can turn on again. Phil squeezes his hand, and he squeezes back tighter.

He’s fine, he’s going to be fine- Schlatt was just a fluke. He was a raging alcoholic anyways- he would’ve died from that before anything else. The rest of his friends are healthy (aside from their poor sleep schedules, but it’s not like Wilbur has room to complain about that-) and it’s irrational to think that they’d keel over in the next few days. He’s fine, they’re fine, everything’s fine.

This’ll all blow over in a couple weeks. Everything will go back to normal, and Wilbur will stop worrying about stupid nightmares. Nightmares can’t tell the future anyhow.

The thought doesn’t stop the curdling of dread in his stomach. It only lets it fester.

Wilbur’s attention drifts from his thoughts as the doorknob to his dorm jingles and flings open, leaving a disheveled looking Tommy in its place. Wilbur sits up fully, unable to mask the relief coating his expression.

“Tommy?”

Tommy deflates. “Oh, hey Wil. How’re you holding up, big man?”

Wilbur scoffs, squeezing Phil’s hand and starting to get out of bed. “How’re you?”

Tommy grimaces. Phil pats Wilbur’s shoulder as he hobbled up, vision going dizzy for a moment and the pounding in his head increasing.

“We need to go to the station to give the rest of your report. I don’t know if you remember, but last night you were kinda out of it.” Tommy says curtly with a small smile on his face, “Ranboob’s driving us- I gave him his car back.”

Phil raises a brow at him. “You… stole his car?”

Tommy grins, teeth on full display. “It was very easy.”

Phil pales and looks towards Wilbur, who shrugs.

“Told you he isn’t ‘sweet.’” Wilbur says.

Tommy’s nose wrinkles. “I am sweet! I am fucking amazing, and poggers and shit! No one can resist my charms!”

Wilbur deadpans as Tommy gets over to him and drags him to his feet in two quick motions. “Hurry up, I don’t want them to get suspicious if we’re late!” Then, in a conspiratorial whisper, “They might take my shopping cart away. That would be so shit.”

Despite himself, Wilbur chuckles, the hollow feeling in his chest feeling a little less painful. “Thank the gods Ranboo’s driving us and not you, you little shit.”

Tommy squawks and hits Wilbur’s shoulder, and Wilbur manages to give the other a weak grin. Phil watches the scene fondly and Wilbur sends the older man a middle finger at the coo he let out.

Before leaving, Wilbur quickly swiped another one of Niki’s muffins before following Phil and Tommy out of the dorm, his paranoia making him take his key and lock the door behind him. Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief. Phil regarded him with vaguely masked concern.

“I can come with you if you need me, Wil. Moral support and all that.” Phil says.

Tommy purses his lips. “I don’t know if the police would allow that. I’ll be there for him, don’t you worry old man.”

Phil blinks in shock. “..Old man?”

Tommy grabs Wilbur’s free hand and takes off down the hallway, dragging the taller with him all the way. “Buh-byeeeeee!”

Wilbur stifles a laugh and runs faster at Phil’s faded “You little shits!”, nearly dropping his muffin in the process. Before he can even see where he’s going, Tommy is shoving him down the stairs and dragging him through the main lobby area. Wilbur glances from the muffin in his hand and back to Tommy, making a decision. He halts in his tracks, sneakers skidding across the ground.

Tommy stops and faces him indignantly, the bags under his eyes betraying his true feelings, “Why’d you stop?”

“Have you even eaten yet?” Wilbur asks with a raised brow.

Tommy’s eyes dart to the ground and Wilbur holds back a sigh.

He presses the muffin into Tommy’s palm, shoving it towards him. “Here.”

Tommy blinks. “Wha- but- this is yours, Wilbur. You should eat it.”

Wilbur shakes his head. “I already ate one, and Niki made an entire batch. Please eat it, it’ll be harder to talk to the police with an empty stomach.

Tommy pauses before tightening his hold on the muffin, ears turning red. He huffs, “Fine, but this is only because I want to make sure you actually get there. Can’t get you there if I die of starvation.”

Tommy doesn’t notice how Wilbur winces. With red-tinted ears, Tommy briskly lets Wilbur follow him out the door. In the parking lot is a familiar car with a tired Ranboo leaning on the side of it, looking off into the distance.

Tommy bites into the muffin a few meters away from Ranboo and his car, expression lighting up. He glances towards Wilbur, something hesitant in his gaze.

“Thank you.”

Wilbur smiles.

—————

A week passes. A dreadful, horrible, sleepless week that has Wilbur chugging coffee every hour just to make sure he doesn’t fall asleep, with little to no concern to his mental or physical well-being. How can he go to sleep if he sees Schlatt’s haunted face every time he closes his eyes?

It’s the first night after Schlatt’s death that he gets the nightmare again, the nightmare that his brain thinks is turning into reality, no matter how stupid that is. But he can’t shake the feeling- the feeling of doom lingering over his shoulders like a raincoat, blocking out every positive emotion he can muster into himself. After getting the nightmare a second time, Wilbur says fuck it, and works on his Music Theory work for the rest of the night instead, drowning himself in the work to block out the anxiety.

Phil had calmed him down enough to at least think rationally, but Phil had a life of his own and Wilbur couldn’t stay attached to his side as much as he wanted to.

The anxiety only came back during the interrogation.

At the police station, they had him recite every fact he knew about Schlatt’s death- what time he found him, anyone who was nearby, and if he had seen anything suspicious that night. They had also searched him- what for, Wilbur didn’t know, but he assumed it was protocol, nothing more.

The interrogation was a bit bizarre, if he’s gonna be completely frank. Why would he be interrogated for something like alcohol poisoning? Or drug overdose? Schlatt had been clearly wasted that night, why would it be anything else? Unless it was suicide, or-

He’s not gonna think about the possibility of it being murder. That wouldn’t make sense. Who would want Schlatt dead in the first place? Besides being a shit roommate, he’s friendly enough. All those questions about suspicious activity were probably just protocol- after all, it was a college party, and Wilbur was the one out of all the people there to find the body. That doesn’t exactly paint in him a good light.

He’s fine, they’re fine. Tommy is there to squeeze his hand when Wilbur drifts, Wilbur shamefully squeezing back.

The anxiety doesn’t leave.

In fact, it seems to get even stronger as the week goes on, the dreadful pounding in his chest and short breaths getting worse day by day. Not sleeping probably isn’t healing anything- he chalks the feeling of doom and dread up to the nightmare and his refusal to sleep again, to see Schlatt’s corpse leaning against the bathtub again. Desperate to ignore the feeling of wrong wrong wrong in his chest, Wilbur works overtime, ignoring Tommy’s pleas to at least eat something. His sleep is brief and spent hunched over his laptop, small dozes here and there that end with a startling gasp and flashes of a nightmare.

He doesn’t need to let his brain get distracted from the work- if he spends his time eating and sleeping properly, his mind will drift back to him and his death, and what that means for the future, no matter how silly that is. He can’t let his brain think about anything else besides, work, work, work.

Wilbur easily gets ahead of his classes in five days, and some of his professors email about slowing down a bit or he’ll be lost in more future lessons, but Wilbur can’t stop, he has to keep working to keep himself from overthinking. When he’s not pouring all his mental energy into music projects, his mind is filled with fear and guilt. Even as his brain feels like it turns to mush and the bags under his eyes get deeper and deeper, Wilbur doesn’t stop.

Tommy practically ends up shoving food down his throat every morning and makes sure he at least drinks water, which makes him wallow in the guilt he wants so desperately to ignore even more. His younger roommate shouldn’t have to take care of him like he’s some sick kid- Tommy was literally friends with Schlatt, Wilbur wasn’t even all that close to him.

With this in mind, Wilbur turns off his laptop and takes a break for the first time in five days. He can’t sleep, but he softly plays his guitar in the night, subtly trying his best to help lull Tommy to sleep. It’s the least he can do to help the other for all he’s done for him.

For the first time all week, Tommy falls to sleep with a smile on his face. Wilbur unknowingly mirrors the smile, strumming on his guitar softly.

In the morning on the seventh day, Wilbur leaves a note for Tommy to make sure the other boy knew where he was, and that he didn’t just up and leave. He needs to get out, he needs to do something about the horrible guilt and sadness festering his chest.

He goes to see Niki.

The bakery is closed when he gets there, but there is a flurry of motion inside that can only belong to one person. Wilbur raps his knuckles on the door, pointedly ignoring the ‘Closed’ sign, and waits.

Niki opens the door a creak to poke an eye out, and upon seeing Wilbur she opens the door all the way with a soft grin.

“Wilbur!” She greets softly, her tone taking on a teasing edge, “I thought I told you to stop coming when we’re closed.”

Wilbur gives a weak grin- honestly the best he can do at the moment- and stuff his hands inside his pockets. “You never send me away, now do you?” He quips back, “Can I come in?”

Niki’s smile has become more somber as she opens the door wider, allowing for Wilbur to cross through and subtly inhale the scent of the bakery, smelling of warm cupcakes and fresh sweet drinks. The bell jingles as the door closes and Niki leads him over to the counter.

“I heard about what happened.” She says quietly, afraid to shatter the warm atmosphere between them. Wilbur’s smile drops and he nods sullenly.

“Yeah. It’s- I’m- working through it. Mentally, I mean.”

Niki nods. “Has the police said anything? Why would they interrogate you?”

Wilbur can only shrug. “No clue. Might be part of their protocol or something, it’s not like I can refuse them without looking suspicious.”

Niki hums.

“I guess you’re right.” She drags a rag over the counter, cleaning to get ready for the morning shift, “You here for company, or..?”

Wilbur startles and looks away sheepishly, “Well, I came here for company, yes, but I also came to get something for my roommate. He was a friend of Schlatt’s and he’s been taking care of me all this time. I feel bad.”

Niki frowns sadly but nods anyways. “Alright, what do you think he’ll like? Everything in the displays were either made this morning or were in the refrigerator last night, so you can take one of those.”

Wilbur glances at the display cases under the counter and grimaces.

“Got anything with low-sugar? I’m not too keen on seeing Tommy hyped up on sugar. He’s already bad enough with his soda addiction.”

Niki lets a laugh slip from her lips. “Aw, come on Wil, he can’t be too bad. Wait, here-” Niki bends down and opens one of the display cases with a jingle of keys, grabbing one of the plates in the far back, “I’m sure he’ll enjoy these. Any allergies?“

Wilbur narrows his eyes at the plate of glazed doughnuts Niki holds, trying to gauge how much sugar is in those, “Not that I know of, no. Are you sure these will be okay to give him..?”

Niki laughs, light and bubbly, “You’re acting like he’s some child that can’t handle sugar, Wil.“

“He is a child, Niki. Maybe not legally, but he has the mind of a child, and it’s fucking terrifying.”

Niki buckles into laughter, and Wilbur feels the most genuine grin stretching on his face for the first time all week. His chest feels less hollow, and the anxiety alleviates for the moment, and he’s content to bask in it- to bask in the warmth and familiarity of the bakery and listen to the sound of his friend’s laughter, all prior issues shoved to the back of his mind.

He wishes for the moment to never end.

But it does anyways, and the end comes in the form of a frantic knocking at the door of the cafe, a familiar figure blurry through the muddled glass. Niki snaps out of her laughing fit as the knocking increases rapidly and she bustles over to the door, throwing it open.

There, in all his disheveled glory, is Tommy, looking as though he ran a mile. He locks eyes with Wil and the dread comes back full force.

“Tommy?“

“Wilbur-” Tommy rasps, clearing his throat with his fist, “Wilbur, the police phoned me. They know what happened to Schlatt.”

Wilbur’s heart drops.

“What-”

Niki ushers Tommy inside, closing the door shut behind him as Tommy tries to catch his breath, cheeks flushed and panting and Wilbur knows for a fact the other had ran here to get to him, and that fact only makes his dread worse.

“He-” Tommy coughs, “Cyanide. It was found on campus.”

Niki’s eyes widen in horror and Wilbur is left floating amongst the confusion. “Huh?”

“It was cyanide poisoning, done on purpose.” Tommy says seriously, determined eyes boring into Wilbur’s own, “The bottle it came from was found in a trash bin on our campus.”

Wilbur’s stomach drops to his feet, and cotton fills his ears. He doesn’t want to believe it.

“That means..?”

Tommy levels him in a steadfast glare.

“Schlatt was murdered.”

Chapter Text

“FUCK!”

Wilbur wakes up with a shout, a scream halfway up his throat and his clothes absolutely drenched in sweat. His heartbeat is on overdrive as the reoccurring nightmare flashes in his head, and he can hardly stop the roiling of his stomach.

With one final flail of his legs, he topples off the bed and lands on the ground with an oof, laying in a heap on the ground as he tries to catch his breath and control his breathing. There’s a shifting from somewhere nearby, but with Wilbur’s heart pounding in his ears, he can’t hear it feel anything except the raw panic and the overwhelming fear that everyone he loves will-

No, he’s gonna die. He can’t get enough air in his lungs and his limbs feel paralyzed and he’s too hot and too cold and too sweaty and too-

“bum badada badum, BADUM” 

..

-What?

“oooOoOooo Wilburrrr SooOoOt! You look like you’re in need of some distraaaaaaactinggggg! I’m awesommeeeeeee at that!”

Tommy. That’s Tommy. Tommy’s here, next to his bedside. But his voice sounds weird and distorted whenever he speaks, almost as if he’s singing but not actually singing-

“Hmmmmmm any song requestss from my favorite musiciannn?”

Wilbur finally opens his eyes. He’s laying on his side, hands curled in his hair to unconsciously tug at the strands. He’s also on the floor, beside his bed. He fell off. And next to him-

“Tommy?” Wilbur croaks out.

Tommy grins widely, just barely seeable in the pitch black of the night, holding some sort of object up to his face. “‘Ello! Having a nightmare, big man?”

Wilbur only stares at the other, all thoughts of the nightmare and the issue of Schlatt’s death batted out of his mind by the sheer confusion and bewilderment arising in him.

“What the fuck?”

Tommy continued on with a smile, not even noticing Wilbur’s confused and exasperated expression. “Tubbo invented this autotuner-thingy. It’s pretty- pog!”

Wilbur’s eye twitched as he locked eyes with the thing inside Tommy’s mouth, absolutely covered in drool. So that’s where the retched noise was coming from. An underlying song paired with Tommy’s voice to make his voice distorted to the tune of the song. No wonder he already has a headache.

Wilbur didn’t even notice how the tightness in his chest had faded, and the tears left over from his nightmare had dried. Tommy scoots closer and Wilbur is still in shock from trying to figure out what the fuck was happening.

“Once again,” Tommy says in that distorted voice, tuned to a song Wilbur couldn’t recognize, “Any songgggg requests?”

Wilbur blinks, then blinks again. He sends a glance to the bedside table above him and briefly looks at the blinking time.

3:17 AM

God-fucking-dammit.

“ Sssssong requestsss??” Tommy repeats once more. Wilbur slaps his hands over his face in despair.

“Gods, smite me down, right now. I need it.”

Tommy paused, and then-

“I think you need some ther-o-py big man. Have you ever considered, maybe, getting some ther-o-py?”

“Every single fucking day.” Wilbur deadpanned.

Wilbur sighed and buried his head into his pillow letting Tommy ramble, placing the sides of his pillow over his ears to block the sounds out.

“AaaAAaAAAaAaaaAAaaaaAAaAaA!”

“Is that the fucking Tetris theme?”

Wilbur doesn’t go back to sleep that night. Instead, he listens to Tommy’s infuriating musical rambles while all thoughts of the nightmare and Schlatt fade from his mind.

—————

“Wilbur, you have to calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down?! Schlatt was fucking murdered, Phil! At his own party! It could’ve been any of us!” Wilbur says frantically, way to loud for the library the three were studying in, “The guy who did it could’ve gotten Tubbo or Tommy! They could’ve poisoned Ranboo!”

“Okay, but consider this.” Techno butts in, cutting Wilbur off from his rant, “They didn’t poison you, or any of the people you just mentioned. Tommy’s alive and you’re alive. Your neighbors are alive. You weren’t poisoned. Thinking about the ‘what if’s’ isn’t going to do anything but worsen your anxiety.”

Wilbur groans, the noise echoing around the silent library. Wilbur didn’t care for his volume as he smushed his face between his hands, feeling his head pound and his stomach swirl with anxiety-induced sickness. Phil pats his arm.

“It could’ve been an accident.” He says quietly, mindful of the roaming librarian hovering around their area.

Wilbur looks at the older man incredulously.

“I fucking wish it was an accident at this point. The bottle was literally found on campus.”

“It could’ve been a different bottle?”

“That’s not what the police are saying.” Wilbur grumbles, sinking into his chair with crossed arms and a tight heart. Techno hums and sips at his coffee, turning a page in his book.

“Just because there was one murder doesn’t mean there’s going to be anymore, Wilbur. It might just be a one-and-done situation. Maybe Schlatt had an enemy that wanted him gone or somethin’. It doesn’t mean anyone else will die.” Techno reasons as he takes another sip of his coffee, “Plus, if it were really an issue, the cops would’ve found their way on campus already.”

Wilbur groans again, frustrated notes in every word, “That’s because the murder happened off-campus, you dingus. They aren’t going to get a warrant to interrogate people on campus unless the headmaster lets them. Last I heard from Tommy they’ve been questioning the people in the apartment for suspicious activity. It’s a load of bull.”

Techno raises an eyebrow. “And how does Tommy know this?”

“He asked to be updated on the case. I think he’s kind of invested in it, even though Schlatt was his friend.” Wilbur says, “I think he wants justice to be brought to Schlatt.”

Techno hums and nods while Phil scrolls through something on his computer, half paying attention. It’s their weekly study day, a day for the three best friends to keep in touch. Wilbur has a project to work on in his Music Theory class, but the words on the screen are blurred and scrambled. He can’t get himself to focus on the lines, instead hearing the unsteady thumping of his heart roaring in his ears.

Phil and Techno have gone back to their work easily, but Wilbur can’t seem to focus. He tries to relax, tries to immerse himself in the calm aura and coffee smell aroma around him but with the pitter-patter of his heart constantly convulsing from anxiety, he’s left vibrating in his seat, muscles tense and all nerves on end. He literally can’t relax.

Just when Wilbur thinks he’s starting to calm down a little bit, a loud bang has him and the other two people at his table jolting from their seats, sending each other wide-eyed looks before turning towards the noise. With his anxiety never letting up, Wilbur’s chest tightens as he looks towards the origin of the noise.

What Wilbur sees has him sputtering for air.

“Tommy?”

Tommy startles, dropping his books on the floor again in his haste to get up.

“Hey, big man! Didn’t.. think you were gonna be here today..”

“What are you doing?” Wilbur asks incredulously, “And… are those the Sherlock Holmes books?”

Tommy drops the stack of books for a third time in the midst of his panic, earning a loud ‘SHHH!’ from the passing librarian as the books thud across the ground. A nervous smile stretches on Tommy’s face as he hides the covers of the books from Wilbur’s view.

“Anyways,” Tommy clears his throat, “‘Ow do?”

Wilbur blinks as silence washes over them. “Tommy, what-”

“So this is the menace roommate we’ve been hearin’ so much about.” Techno interrupts with a drawl, looking Tommy over.

Tommy pauses, looking over both of Wilbur’s friends before flicking his eyes back to Wilbur, an impish smile growing on his face. Wilbur pushes back the impulse urge to groan.

Tommy puffs up. “Yeah, you’re right! I am a menace to Wilbur and Wilbur alone. I’m menacing for him.“

Wilbur thumps his head on the table, all previous issues forgotten for the time being, as they usually are around the headache that is Tommy. “I think you’re a menace to everyone, actually. A literal demon from hell. How haven’t you been kicked out of the library yet?”

Tommy grins toothily. “Pure skill.”

Techno snorts and Phil chuckles quietly.

“Not gonna lie, dude-” Techno says, hardly containing his chuckles, “-but from Wil’s horror stories, you seem like a menace to everyone.” Techno makes quick eye contact with Wilbur, who shakes his head fiercely, and promptly ignores him, “You are- and I quote from Wilbur- ‘the Antichrist.’”

Wilbur groans louder while Phil chuckles like a tea kettle, barely resisting pounding his fist on the table in his fit of laughter. Tommy, on the other hand, positively lights up at the title and nods seriously.

“Everyone lives in fear of TommyInnit.” Tommy says with utmost seriousness.

“Aside from that,” Wilbur quickly interrupts, taking his friends amused attention off of the blonde-haired kid, “What’re you doing here anyways? You literally called me a nerd this morning for saying that I was going to the library, and now you’re here. With the Sherlock Holmes detective series nonetheless.” Wilbur leans back in his seat, eyes narrowing. “Seems pretty hypocritical if you ask me.”

Techno and Phil glance towards eachother amused, thoroughly enjoying the show, and back to Tommy, who flushes.

“Well, you still are a nerd,” Tommy mumbles as he pulls his stack of books closer to himself, “I just had an idea is all.”

Wilbur raises an eyebrow. “An idea?”

“Yup.”

“..not gonna elaborate?”

“Nope.”

“That’s not suspicious.” Techno says blandly, watching Tommy pull the famous detective series closer to himself.

“You’re suspicious.” Tommy fires back, quickly tacking on, “Bitch.”

Phil grins and elbows Techno in the side, “Well, he’s got ya there, mate.” Phil turns towards Tommy, something fond and endearing in his eyes. “This is Techno, and in case you don’t remember me, I’m Phil. It’s good to actually meet you this time Tommy, we’ve heard many things about you from Wilbur.”

Tommy nods, stifling a grin as Wilbur knocks his head into the table again. “Nice to meet you too, I guess.“ He turns towards Techno suddenly, fingers twitching, “I like your hair, big man. It’s pink.”

Techno blinks once, then twice, then runs a hand through his hair and huffs. “Thanks.”

Tommy nods with a genuine smile on his face. “You’re welcome. Wilbur, can I dye my hair pink? I want to dye my hair pink.”

Wilbur rubs his eyes, trying his hardest and failing to push away a fond smile from his lips, “If you got the money, sure. I don’t really care. Just don’t ask for my help.”

Tommy cackles, then lights up again. “I can dye it firetruck red! Bright fuckin’ firetruck red! Oh that would be so cool! I’ve been inspired!”

Techno snorts, eyeing Wilbur with a grin at how fast the conversation turned, “I mean- if you want to burn peoples eyes whenever they see you, sure.”

Tommy nods seriously, determination set in his eyes while he shuffles his books around. “Firetruck red. I want people to cry when they see me. That means I’ll be superior to them. I’ll establish dominance.”

Wilbur groans. “Please don’t, I still live with you.“

Tommy nods again. “It’s settled then. I’ll get Ranboob to dye my hair firetruck red. Goodbye Wilbur!”

Wilbur lifts his head. “You’re leaving? Just like that? You haven’t even told us what the books are for.”

Tommy ducks behind a bookshelf, a cheeky grin on the edge of his lips. “Guess you’ll have to wait and find out, ey? My genius is far beyond what you plebeians can comprehend!”

Techno scrunches his nose in confusion. “Plebeians?”

“Buh-byeeee!”

With that, Tommy disappears from sight, and the three are left in a stifling silence. Wilbur blinks, trying to wrap his mind around that conversation, and what just happened- but finds his mind running in circles. Tommy seems to have that effect on him.

“I like him.” Techno says surely, turning back to his book. “He’s interesting.”

“No he’s not.”

“Yes he is,” Techno argues back, a sly grin on his face, “Especially because he’s already mastered the art of getting under your skin.”

Wilbur sputters, rubbing his temples. “You inspired him to dye his hair bright red. Why would you do this to me?”

Techno shrugs nonchalantly. “I mean, he distracted you, didn’t he? That worked out pretty well.”

Wilbur’s shoulders drop, his brows furrow with it. “Oh.”

He never realized. He’s never realized how when Tommy is around, his issues are dropped and all he can focus on is him. He focuses on Tommy, and the anxiety melts away. It’s forgotten in favor of trying to see what the blonde boy was going to do next- what Tommy had planned and how he was going to screw Wilbur over that day. Being with Tommy lowers his anxiety.

Huh.

Strange. You’d think that being with such a chaotic person would heighten his anxiety issues, but it seems to be the opposite.

Even now, the anxiety surrounding Schlatt’s death (not again please not again-) and the fact that there may be a murderer in his college is- faded. Not completely gone, but not at the forefront of his mind like it has been for the past few days. Schlatt’s death is just that. A fact. Nothing is confirmed, and Wilbur and his friends are safe. (For how long, though?)

He shakes that last thought away. This is finally his chance to relax. At least a little bit. And it’s all because Tommy caused a disruption, a different way for his brain to think about something else and give him a little reprieve.

Maybe he should hang around Tommy more often.

With that last thought and one more nod to himself, Wilbur tunes back into the conversation.

“-really endearing how he just- looked at your hair and decided he was gonna dye his own. That’s really sweet.” Phil was saying, directed towards Techno. Techno scoffs.

“Endearing? I mean- the kid wants peoples eyes to bleed whenever they look at him, but I guess if that’s what you consider ‘endearing’, then-”

“Tommy is not ‘sweet’ or ‘endearing.’” Wilbur retorts, interrupting the conversation, “He’s a demon. Neither of you have been woken up at 3:00 AM exactly by a cup of water to the face. It’s not fun.”

Techno snorts, a smile on the edge of his lips, “I dunno Wil, him annoyin’ you is pretty endearing to me.”

“Only you would find happiness in my pain, Techno.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Is he a big mystery fan? Does he normally get those kind of books?” Phil inquires, butting his way into Techno and Wilbur’s little quarrel. Wilbur shakes his head in response to the question.

“No, like I said, he called me a nerd earlier for meeting with you guys here.” Wilbur shakes his head again, a fond smile playing at his lips, “I don’t think I’ve seen him open a book in the entire time he’s been here. Most of his work usually is watching movies and analyzing them.”

“He must be fun to watch movies with.” Techno says absently as he scrolls through his phone.

Wilbur shakes his head. “He’s not. Trust me.”

“Oh, Wil-” Phil suddenly says, a tone of alarm reaching his voice, “I forgot to bring my library card for these books I need to check out. Is it okay if I borrow yours?”

Wilbur rolls his eyes and nods out an affirmative as Techno chuckles. “You’re goin’ senile on us, old man.”

“Shut.”

Wilbur rifles around his in bag, looking in all the pockets for his library card, the one he very rarely used. “Here, Phil, it’s-”

Wilbur pauses, hand coming out empty. He sits back in his seat, feeling the pounding headache starting to come on and studiously ignoring his friends’ inquiring stares.

Wilbur sighs.

“That fucker stole my library card.”

—————

Tommy dyed his hair.

He actually did it- though not all the way thankfully- but still enough to be an annoyance to Wilbur’s eyes, which was definitely Tommy’s intended goal. A single swoop of blonde hair turned red- a singular streak of firetruck red laid in front of the rest of his blonde hair.

At least he didn’t dye his entire head red. One streak was enough. 

Tommy admires his new hair in the mirror, making a variety of expressions that Wilbur has to stifle his laughs at. He plays with the strand of red hair, curling it around his finger and letting it go. It’s a welcome change, a new addition to think about instead of the issues that have been plaguing his mind since Schlatt’s party. Once Tommy is completed dyeing the streak (with Ranboo’s help of course- Tommy would’ve made a gigantic mess if he had done it himself) he tries to coerce Wilbur into dyeing a streak of his own hair, so they could match.

“Like brothers!” He had said.

Wilbur promptly stomps down the flutter of affection in his heart and declines, saying he doesn’t want to ruin his hair with dye, even if it’s just a streak. Besides, the red would be hard to pick out in the midst of his brown curls.

He ignores how Tommy deflated after saying that and surely nodded along to Wilbur’s words in acceptance. Aside from the initial reaction, Tommy hadn’t made too much of a fuss over Wilbur not dyeing his hair, much to Wilbur’s relief.

Instead, Tommy has his focus set on something else entirely.

Finding Schlatt’s killer.

“No way.“

“Whaaaat?!” Tommy groans, his voice grating on Wilbur’s ears, “Why not?”

Wilbur looks towards the younger boy flabbergasted, a stir of uneasiness rising in his gut. “Because it’s not our job? What makes you think that you, a first year in a shitty college, can solve a murder?”

Tommy flips through his second volume of the detective novels, lips pursed in frustration, “It looks easy though! And the police are taking too long to figure it out. It’d go a lot faster if I was on their team helping them.”

“That’s so stupid.”

Tommy looks towards Wilbur, expression quickly turning crestfallen. “No- it’s not. It’s not stupid.”

“Tommy-” Wilbur puts his hand on Tommy’s shoulder, leading him away from the small mahogany desk, and subsequently away from the detective series Tommy had been so invested in. “The police will catch the person soon, I’m sure. You don’t need to take on their jobs- you’re just a kid. Finding justice for Schlatt isn’t your responsibility.”

Tommy scowls harshly and swipes Wilbur’s hand off his shoulder, flopping backwards into his bed. “I’m not a kid, Wil. And if what you’re saying is true, then why the fuck are the police taking so long? I bet I can solve the murder faster than them.”

Wilbur takes a seat next to Tommy on the bed, his stomach filling with unease. “And what makes you think you can solve Schlatt’s murder? We’re not even graduated, man.”

“Well,” Tommy says matter of factly, “I know what basically has to happen, with the gathering evidence and in-for-mation, and I gotta interview people and shit, that’ll be easy, and then I have to make a suspect list… oh shit- I haven’t done that yet, lemme just-” Tommy immediately bounds up from the bed with a new light in his eyes as he begins to search for a notepad or something of the sort.

Wilbur places a hand on Tommy’s arm. “Tommy.”

Tommy stops.

“Tommy,” Wilbur stresses, pulling Tommy back to the bed, “Stop. Just- drop it, alright? You don’t need to do anything. We can stay here, okay? We can watch stupid movies and play Mariokart, we don’t need to try anything drastic. Forget about it.”

“But Wilbur-”

“Tommy.”

Slowly, Tommy lowers himself onto the bed next to Wilbur, averting his eyes and keeping his hands behind his back.

“Fine.”

Wilbur sighs. “Thank you. Now, uh- you wanna watch a movie or something? I need some distracting. You can choose.”

Tommy nods understandingly and hoists his laptop from under his bed, placing it between the two as they scoot back until their backs are flush with the wall. “I’m choosing Moana!”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have given you movie privileges.”

“Fuck you man, you’re just jealous of my superior taste in movies-”

“Please just start it already.”

Tommy grins and presses play, settling against Wilbur’s shoulder. “Okay!”

They spend the night like that, ignoring their homework and all thoughts of death and mysteries, leaning against each other as they binged movie after movie, Tommy making the occasional comment that would send Wilbur into a laughing fit so hard that they’d have to pause the movie to get themselves under control. Aside from all of Tommy’s annoying film major criticism, that night has to be the best night Wilbur’s had in a while.

Although-

Wilbur never noticed the crossed fingers behind Tommy’s back.

Chapter Text

Wilbur is sleeping for once. It’s nice. No nightmares, no memories, no annoying children waking him up at three fucking AM in the morning for a running joke. Just peace.

Then someone whispers in his ear.

“Wilbur.”

No. No he’s not gonna wake up. He’s not. He won’t wake up for whoever is whispering to him. His eyes are firmly shut and he doesn’t open them a peak, even when his consciousness slowly wakes up when he’s jostled by a hand rubbing his shoulder.

“Wilbur, wake up.” The voice whispers again, this time louder, Wilbur only mutters incoherently and turns to his side, ignoring the indignant squawk of the person trying to poke his cheek. Wilbur’s nose twitches with a weird smell, and he almost lets out a sneeze. Good thing he didn’t though- he really wanted to get back into REM sleep instead of this light sleep where he’s pretty sure he’s hallucinating a person tapping his back consistently. May it’s a rat.

“Wil-bah Soot! We need help! Tubbo fucked up!” The voice says louder.

Wilbur coughs, a weird phlegm stuck in his throat. He sneezes, coughing when he inhales a rancid smell.

This isn’t a dream, and Wilbur is fully awake. Just keeping his eyes closed. Yup. If the person beside him believes he’s asleep (it’s most likely Tommy, but what if it isn’t??), then they’ll leave him alone. Yup. There’s no waking up Wilbur. Ever.

“WILBUR! We have a problem! A massive, huge fucking problem! Don’t you fucking try to pretend to be asleep!”

Wilbur groans.

“Tubbo’s laptop is on fire and we need help! WILBUR!”

Wilbur jolts awake, opening his eyes in a flash and coming face to face with a wide-eyed Tommy, an awkward grin on his face which practically screamed trouble. Wilbur blinks for a long moment, processing the statement and the sudden smell of smoke.

“HE FUCKING WHAT?!“

“THATS WHAT IM SAYING!” Tommy screeches, hauling Wilbur’s half-asleep disoriented ass out of bed, “We need to hurry before the fire alarm goes off! Oh fuck, oh shit, shit dick and balls-”

“Shut up.” Wilbur says stagnantly, already grabbing the fire extinguisher locked in their kitchen cabinet. “Bring me to them.”

Tommy nodal and they leave their dorm clad in their pajamas and sleep-rustled hair, the socks on their feet softening their steps as they quickly go to their neighbors’ room. The smell of smoke gets stronger when Tommy practically busts down the door, holding the fire extinguisher he snatched from Wilbur in his hands like a trophy.

“I’ve got it!”

Tubbo and Ranboo are in their living room, right by the entrance to their dorm. The shorter of the two is clinging to the taller, who looks as if he’s on the verge of a panic attack. An empty fire extinguisher lies next to a small fire in the room, the origin of the smoke.

They’re lucky the fire alarm hasn’t gone off. Tubbo and Ranboo must’ve turned off the ones in their room.

“Oh thank fuck.” Tubbo breathes, and Ranboo forcibly drags him away from the fire, eyes paranoid and breaths panicked. Tommy tries and fails to spray the fire, so Wilbur takes it from him, ignoring the younger’s complaints, and thoroughly douses the flame in the white foam until there isn’t a speck of orange flickering left.

The room is left in a sheen of smoke, somehow not yet reaching the fire alarms in any of the other rooms yet. Wilbur and Tommy have their eyes pinned to the light pile of white foam, one reflecting relief and the other in tired bewilderment, and Ranboo pulls Tubbo’s wrist back when the smaller one lunges for the white foam with hungry eyes.

“What, the fuck,” Wilbur coughs out, not even caring for noise the fire extinguisher made when he let it clatter to the ground, “-happened here?”

Tubbo shifts guiltily and Ranboo sighs, still keeping a tight grip on the younger’s wrist. “His game blew up.”

Wilbur blinks.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“It was a program that I was in the process of making.” Tubbo pouts, ripping his wrist away from Ranboo, “I rigged it to catch on fire once the player loses, but the fire wasn’t supposed to be that- big..”

“Ah.”

“It was supposed to be bigger.” Ranboo adds in a whisper.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Tubbo pouts again, “I didn’t even make a backup copy! Goddammit.”

“You saved the code right?” Tommy asks, scooting away from Wilbur and towards his friends. Tubbo nods.

“Of course, the code was the easy part. It’s more of getting the computer to heat up fast enough. And all the gadgets I made to make it explode once the fire burnt out.”

Wilbur doesn’t even want to process that last statement. He blinks tiredly and looks towards the empty fire extinguisher by Ranboo, which didn’t even look like it had been used yet.

“Why didn’t-” Wilbur coughs, “Why didn’t you use your own fire extinguisher? All the dorms have one.”

“Tubbo ate it.” Ranboo says, disappoint showing in their voice.

Tubbo grins. “It’s like a big fluffy marshmallow! So soft and yummy! And for free, too!”

“We had to call poison control. It was a whole Thing.” Ranboo says helpfully. Tommy nods along knowingly and salutes Tubbo, who salutes him right back.

“Okay- what..?” Wilbur brings a hand up to his face, rubbing his temples. “Okay, whatever. What do we do about the smoke we’re currently inhaling?”

Tommy snorts. “Open a window dumbass.”

Ranboo sighs, dragging Tubbo away from the foam and opening the window. The smoke immediately clears out, creating a cloud of grey in the night light, and Wilbur feels the joy of having actual oxygen in his lungs. His throat is still coated and dry, and he reminds himself to drink a gallon of water later.

Wilbur yawns, Tommy following suit.

“Let’s get to bed, please no more fires, or I’ll-”

A sharp baring of a fire alarm cuts him off, and Wilbur practically jolts at the assault of the loud noise. All of them do, actually, and Ranboo has slammed his hands over his ears.

Looks like the smoke reached the fire alarm in someone’s room.

“Oh shit.”

By the time the four get scolded by all the people who had been woken up + Administration, it’s 3:00 AM.

—————

Mentally, Wilbur feels like he’s been run over by a fucking train.

Bad days aren’t uncommon for Wilbur, but today felt worse. Like he couldn’t move, or get out of his bed, or do anything. Maybe it was the lack of sleep from last night. Or the smoke inhalation. Could be either. He would go to a doctor to get checked out, but doctors are expensive, and Wilbur is still exhausted from the last grocery trip.

The sunlight filters through the window behind his bed and through the cracks of the curtains, creating a unique pattern on the wall opposite from Wilbur’s bed. Wilbur doesn’t feel like getting up, even when Tommy eventually hauls himself out of his own bed, casting a glance over to where Wilbur is blankly staring at the ceiling, and leaving to the kitchen. Wilbur would be concerned about Tommy being near a bunch of kitchen appliances by himself, but he literally can’t force his body to move. He only sinks more into the bedspread around him, of which is slowly growing more and more uncomfortable, and swallowing dryly.

His throat is still sore.

Today is one of those bad days. Wilbur would have them sometimes, days where he felt like he couldn’t do anything without his efforts seeming worthless. Days where he struggled to get out of bed and actually do something, because a part of his brain tells him that there’s no point. That working now is pointless, that having friends and a social life is pointless because they’re all going to die. He’s going to die someday, so why try?

“Hey big man,” a voice says from his side, accompanied by a clatter of a plate and a glass cup being put down, “I made ya some toast in case you’re hungry, and I brought water for your throat.”

Wilbur slowly pulls himself up, sitting up on his bed instead of laying in the fetal position to see Tommy by his bedside, gesturing to the blackened piece of toast and some fresh water laid on his bedside. With a grimace, Wilbur takes the toast gingerly, wincing when it burns his fingertips.

The toast is disgusting. It’s burned and charred, probably not even toast anymore. How Tommy managed to fuck up toast to this degree? Wilbur has no clue. But Tommy was the one who made it for him, and that fact alone makes Wilbur’s chest warm and a small smile passing onto his lips as he takes a bite of the revolting toast.

“Thanks Tommy.” Wilbur mumbles around the charred pieces of toast in his mouth. He tries not to look disgusted.

Tommy beams brightly and holds out the water for him, of which Wilbur greedily takes big gulps on. Tommy snickers when Wilbur’s face crosses into disappointment when he runs out, and he put the glass back on the nightstand empty.

“Bad day today?” Tommy asks.

Wilbur nods, feeling bitterness curl in his stomach.

Why he couldn’t do the simplest of things on days like these were so fucking annoying to him. He felt like a burden- dead weight. But his mind eats and eats at him and he’s stuck in an endless loop of self pity and self hate. It never changes.

Tommy frowns, “Well, whenever I have days like these, I usually do something to kickstart my day and make me focus on something else, like visiting a friend.”

“What about school?” Wilbur questions quietly.

Tommy shakes his head. “Only if you feel motivated to, big man. Forcing yourself to do it while you’re like this-” Tommy gestures to all of Wilbur laying pathetically in his bed, “-will only make you burn out.”

Wilbur hums. He guesses Tommy is right, but he still couldn’t will his body to move from the caccoon he was in. He wants to, he really does, but it’s like his mind is stuck in a mud puddle, everything slow and hard to process. Bad days suck.

Tommy, seeming to notice Wilbur’s dilemma, speaks up seriously. “Go to Niki’s bakery. You can get a treat there and talk with Niki, maybe help her out some. I know when I have my bad days, I have to be with someone, not alone.”

“What about you?” Wilbur asks, the question slipping out of his mouth before he can stop it.

Tommy blinks at him surprised. “I- oh, uh- I have something to do over at Tubbo’s. Mhm.”

Wilbur narrows his eyes, and Tommy’s blue ones flickers behind him nervously, zooming in on a bag stuffed to the brim with notebooks and his laptop, along with a few library books, and back to Wilbur.

Wilbur sighs. “Okay, I’ll go see Niki. Have fun doing whatever it is you do at Tubbo and Ranboo’s.”

Tommy grins, a relief in his eyes that Wilbur can’t help but notice. “I’m gonna kick Tubbo’s ass at Mario Kart! Did you know I beat him yesterday? It was fucking sick!”

Wilbur hums with a laugh on the edge of his lips, swinging his legs over the bed and standing upwards, ignoring how the world goes dizzy for a split second. Tommy is rambling on about everything and nothing, seemingly trying to fill the silence with random shit so it motivates Wilbur to get a move on.

Wilbur hates to say it, but it’s working. In a matter of time, Wilbur has both his shoes on and his jacket on, all zipped up. Tommy is grinning widely at this when he realizes, and Wilbur can’t help but roll his eyes.

“Bring me back a cookie!” Tommy says as he gifts his bag over his shoulder, the items in it clinking and rustling together, “If you don’t, I’ll release Shroud on you as punishment.”

“Punishment?”

Tommy grins wider, opening their door with a flourish, “Well, I mean, not only is it perfect blackmail material but it also guarantees I get a cookie! So get a move on, Wilbur Soot!”

Tommy dashes out into the hallway, running into their neighbors room with a shout and a bang, and some grumbles from what Wilbur assumes to be Tubbo, and then Wilbur is alone.

He thinks back on what Tommy has said. Tommy himself is experienced with these bad days, and he says being alone won’t help anything. If anything, it’ll just make him spiral even more. Wilbur feels it now, even as the loneliness of the hallway and the weight of his jacket hanging off his shoulders makes him want to stay in place and not move a singular step forward.

But Tommy had haggled him into getting a cookie for him, hadn’t he? Wilbur really doesn’t want to wake up with a spider to the face tonight.

Wilbur sighs and steps out of the threshold.

To Niki’s he goes.

It’s not a far walk to Niki’s bakery- it’s only on the outer edge of campus, not close enough to be considered a campus cafe, but close enough for it to become a hotspot for drained students that need a break. Or a job. Or both.

For Wilbur, it’s his favorite place to meet one of his best friends.

Wilbur is hit with a blast of warm air and the smell of freshly baked muffins, the scent clouding his senses until he feels like he’s floating. Niki is at the register today, a soft smile on her face as she collects money from a customer and hands them a brightly-colored flyer, waving them off with a grin. The bell jingles behind them when they leave, and Wilbur steps up to the counter.

“Hey Niki.”

Niki smiles when she notices him over the buzz of the bakery. “Hello Wil! You need anything today?”

Wilbur pulls out his wallet. “A cookie for my roommate and some of your lovely company, please.”

“Aw, Wil! Of course you can have some of my company!” Niki says with a big smile, the looks over and reads his face again, “Is it a bad day today?”

Wilbur barely resists groaning into his hands. Of course it had to show on his face.

“Yeah, it is.” Wilbur relents. “Tommy kinda corralled me here to kickstart my day. He can be very persuasive when he wants to be.”

Niki quickly turns to the smaller oven behind the counter and pulls out aforementioned cookies, the smell wafting and steaming. “And what’d he do to get you to get out of bed?”

“He threatened me with his spider.”

Niki blinks. “Ah.”

Wilbur takes a singular cookie with a napkin wrapped around the half of it with a tightlipped, tired smile. “Yup. But it got me going, and I actually feel a bit better now that I’m up and moving. Fear is a good motivator.”

“Not a healthy one, Wil-”

“Still a motivator.” Wilbur gives her a cheeky grin. She rolls her eyes good-naturedly, grabbing a colorful flyer from the pile of flyers next to her that Wilbur had missed.

Wilbur takes the flyer from her gingerly, confused. “What’s this for?”

“Our annual bake sale! It’s in a few days because we’re hosting it earlier this year, and dozens of people are going to be coming and showing their own treats.” Niki explains, gesturing to specific dates and times on a flyer of her own. Wilbur can’t help but notice the muffin picture in the top corner, making the flyer look more appealing, “While you have a chance to contribute to charity by selling your own foods, everything sold here is also eighty percent off for college students! Also, I hear that baking is a great distraction for bad days..”

Wilbur looks at her blankly. “Did you seriously just give me your salesman pitch.”

Niki at least has the audacity to look sheepish. “Well… the sales haven’t been very good this year. I have Puffy putting the flyers around campus, but someone keeps taking them down.” She says, much more quietly to stop other students from listening in, “It’s not really a big deal, but Puffy has threatened many acts of violence towards the person- whoever they may be- who keeps tearing down our flyers.”

Wilbur frowns. “I endorse her.”

Niki laughs, but it’s a bitter sound. “Of course you would, Wil. I guess I’m glad the regulars have been coming at least, but I don’t know if we’ll get enough people to attend the bake sale. Last year was a hit, but a lot of the people who came last year graduated. Not many people come from the city.”

Oh. And Wilbur was under the impression that the bakery was doing well, based on the number of people inside whenever he comes. Niki is too generous with her discounts. She’s clearly trying to push the disappointment of having less people come for the bake sale behind her, but she’s doing a terrible job of keeping that disappointment of her face.

Wilbur feels something twist inside of his chest at her disappointment. The words pour out of him before he can even think about it.

“I’ll make something for it.”

Niki brightens. “Really?”

Wilbur nods, still forming this half-formed plan in his head. He doesn’t regret it. He hates seeing one of his best friends sad, or as crushed as Niki seemed to be.

“Yup! I’ll make a cake and bring it for you.”

“Oh Wil,” Niki physically walks around the counter to hug the taller man, Wilbur hugging back in earnest, “You’re the best. Seriously.”

Wilbur rolls his eyes. “It’ll help distract me anyways, so really you’re doing me a favor.”

Niki grins and punches his shoulder before scurrying back around the counter when a coworker calls for her, sending him an apologetic smile.

“I would talk more, but I’m needed in the back. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Wilbur’s mood dims slightly, but he nods in earnest. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I have some ideas anyways.”

With another sweet smile, Niki goes into the back, and Wilbur leaves the bakery with a semi-warm cookie in hand for Tommy. Wilbur is immensely proud of his friend for all she’s accomplished in her time here at college. Getting a job at a bakery, being extremely involved with said bakery to the point of organizing events like the bake sale, all while keeping good grades in school. Not only that- despite her sugary sweet attitude and small height, he knows she could literally kick his ass if she wanted to. She’s loyal and kind with good morals, even being around her can boost his mood.

Being with Niki makes the Schlatt situation seem smaller, easier to tackle. Wilbur is glad to have Niki as a friend.

And having Niki as a friend means going to difficult lengths to help said friend, like baking a cake for their bake sale.

..Wilbur doesn’t know how to bake.

That is a problem.

Wilbur sighs as he speed-walks his way to the dorm building, almost bumping into a few students on his way.

There’s only one thing he can do now-

Turn to Tommy for help.

Wilbur barges through the door of his dorm, startling the three boys inside who jump up and shuffle whatever they were holding behind them out of sight. Wilbur is too out of breath to notice, a bright grin on his face and cheeks flushed from the cold.

Tommy looks towards him quizzically, kicking a bag out of view from Wilbur’s sight. Ranboo and Tubbo are noticeably tense, probably at the fact that Wilbur just busted his way through the door.

“Wilbur? You good man?”

Wilbur pants, and hopes he doesn’t regret this.

“I need your help.”

—————

“No, you put in the eggs first.”

“It says right here: flour first, you moron.”

“But it makes sense for the eggs to be first!“

“Then what the hell would you mix it with? The yolk itself?”

“Then you add the milk to the eggs!“

“Ew. You need a base ingredient, stupid. Flour and baking soda.”

“BUT-”

“Girls, girls, you’re both pretty, now shut the fuck up.” Wilbur interrupts the squabble between Tommy and Tubbo, squinting his eyes at the instructions on the screen and adjusting his glasses. “I can’t fucking read this font- which Facebook mom made this recipe?”

“Uhm- I preheated the oven and greased the cake pans,” Ranboo interrupts, absolutely towering over the other two bickering boys. “What’s first?”

Wilbur gives Ranboo a smile. “Thanks Ranboo, at least you’re the competent one today.”

Tommy and Tubbo snap their head over at that. “Competent?! Wilbur, if anything else, you’re the one that’s incompetent seeing as you can’t even read the fucking recipe!”

Wilbur throws his hands up in the air in frustration. “You read it then!”

“Yea, I will!” Tommy struts over to Wilbur’s computer and shoved the older man aside, looking at the recipe. “What the fuck..”

“See!?”

“No, no-” Tommy laughs, a high pitched and boisterous thing, “What the actual fuck is this font? Why is it… squished?“

Ranboo peaks over Tommy’s side to look at the computer, barely hiding a confused look. “Aesthetic, maybe? I mean, the words are in bold and cursive, so maybe the author was trying to go for a ‘live laugh love’ style.”

“Live, laugh, love my ass.” Tubbo’s mutters from Tommy’s other side. Tommy looks to Tubbo with disgust written on his face.

“No thanks man, I will not be loving your ass. That’s gross.”

Tubbo looks to Tommy, mirroring his expression, “I wasn’t even trying to say- what?”

“You said ‘love my ass.’” Ranboo graciously points out.

Tubbo rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. “Figure of speech.”

“FIGURE OF SPEECH OF WHAT?”

“Oh my gods, okay-” Having heard enough, Wilbur swipes the laptop away from the three and exits out of the tab, typing up a new recipe for cake. “We aren’t doing that recipe, now shut the fuck up. My brain is literally melting inside my head.”

Tommy looks proud of himself at that. “Mission success, boys. Time for the next one: Operation Burn Wilbur’s Dorm Down, aka OPBDD.”

“Didn’t we almost burn the dorms down last night?” Tubbo questions while Ranboo mutters to himself incredulously, “OPBDD?”

“Shut up.” Wilbur repeats, clicking on a link that leads him to a new recipe for cakes. “Oh thank the gods, Comic Sans I’ve never been so happy to see you.”

“I actually quite liked the ‘live laugh love’ font.” Ranboo mutters quietly.

“Shut up Ranboob.”

“STEP ONE.” Wilbur yells, overpowering the other obnoxious voices in the room. Wilbur is realizing that having these three help him was definitely a mistake. “‘Whisk three cups flour, one tablespoon baking powder, and half a teaspoon salt in a large bowl until combined.’”

“HAH!” Tubbo jumps up and glared at Tommy in victory, “I was right! Flour first!”

Tommy scowls. “The recipe is lying to you, Tubbo, don’t fall for its tricks.”

“Done.” Ranboo taps the whisk against a metal bowl held between his hands on the counter, filled with flour, baking soda, and salt. “What’s next?”

Wilbur sends a grateful grin Ranboo’s way for not getting distracted like the other two and looks at the next step in the recipe. “Uh, step two- ‘beat two sticks butter and one and one-fourth cups sugar with a mixer for three minutes.’ Oh boy.”

Tommy lights up, a feral grin spreading on his face. “ILL DO IT!”

Tubbo jolts up with an offended look. “NO, ME!”

Wilbur and Ranboo share a look before sighing, accepting defeat.

They’re gonna have a lot to clean up after this.

Both Tubbo and Tommy squabble over the mixer until Ranboo, ever the mediator, proposes an idea to compromise, that they can both do it. Even with that compromise, the mixing process is a disaster. The instructions said to put the speed on low to make sure nothing gets splattered out, but about a minute in and Tommy got bored, so he snuck around Ranboo, who was grabbing the eggs, and turned it all the way up.

The ingredients whip out of the bowl and splatters onto every surface within a three foot vicinity, eliciting shrieks from everyone except Tommy, who cackles and turns off the mixer with a shit-eating grin. There’s enough mixture left in the bowl to salvage, so they don’t have to start over thankfully.

While Tubbo, Wilbur, and Ranboo put the cake mixture into a cake pan to load into the oven, Tommy is put on cleanup duty.

Very much deserved, in Wilbur’s opinion.

It’s when they’re waiting for the cake to finish baking when Tubbo mentions it. Tommy is wiping the floors, grumbling to himself while Wilbur watches in amusement as Ranboo secretly records the entire thing. The atmosphere is warm with the cake baking in the oven, and it actually smells good so far. Wilbur had been expecting much worse, but the only mixups they’ve had so far was the mixing incident and when Tubbo accidentally dropped the eggshells into the mixture. Easy fixes.

Tubbo looks up from where he was texting on his phone, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Oh, Tommy- I just realized Dream was at the party. You should add him to your list.”

Ranboo and Tommy go rigid and Wilbur looks up confusedly.

“What list?”

Tubbo’s eyes go wide. “Uh.”

Tommy wears a nervous smile when Wilbur looks over. “What list?”

Tommy stays silent, pointedly avoiding eye contact and letting out nervous laughs. “Aha- uh- anyways, I think the cake is almost done, so..”

Wilbur narrows his eyes, not liking the sound of this one bit. “Tommy.”

All three boys go rigid.

“What list.”

Both Tommy and Tubbo click their mouths shut, not giving away any information. Wilbur does the only logical thing and turns to Ranboo, pinning a glare at the taller.

Ranboo’s eyes go wide and he vividly gulps, eyes flickering everywhere but Wilbur’s face. Wilbur glares harder, and Ranboo crumples.

“The list of suspects!”

“RANBOO!”

Ranboo shudders. “Sorry- I can’t- the peer pressure was too much-”

“The list of suspects?” Wilbur snaps, turning to Tommy with confusion, “You told me you weren’t going to do the stupid detective plan!”

Tommy shrinks back at the weight of Wilbur’s glare, and glares right back. “It’s not stupid! I’m not- its not stupid, Wilbur. I have to do this. Since you aren’t helping me, I got some others that are helping me. You can’t stop me.”

Wilbur looks at the others forlorn, watching as they look away from him. Something sparks in Wilbur’s chest and he clenches his hands into fists.

“You guys knew too?! You can’t- you’ll- you’ll get hurt if you do this! All three of you! Chasing down a killer is just asking for trouble! What the fuck are you all thinking?”

“I think,” Tubbo interrupts with a cold voice, “that I want to help my best friend find closure. I want to help my best friend stay safe, so he doesn’t have to do it alone. I think that I’d like to see my best friend happy and safe, and if it means following him on a goose chase to keep him safe, then so be it.”

Ranboo nods, something strangely sad in his eyes. “We’re looking out for him. It- may be selfish, and stupid-” Ranboo ignores the pointed look from Tommy, “But if we don’t help, he’ll just do it himself. You can’t stop him.”

Ah.

Ranboo’s right, in a way.

Wilbur’s never been able to control Tommy, not that he ever has the right to, but Tommy has a spirit that can’t be diminished. He’s wild and free, and he’ll do whatever he wants, no matter what it is. He needs this like a flower needs sunlight, even if there’s danger around the corner.

Wilbur was foolish to believe that Tommy would just listen to his concerns, putting himself in danger for the sake of other people.

Self-sacrificing idiot.

It’s wrong. Wilbur can’t endorse this- he should tell someone. He should tell the police to keep an eye on the blonde boy and make sure he doesn’t put himself in danger trying to play detective. It’s stupid, and reckless, and Wilbur should just put an end to it now.

But with the glimmer in Tommy’s eyes and the determination set in stone on his young face, Wilbur knows for a fact that the police could never stop him. The WROLD couldn’t stop him if it tried, so in turn, Wilbur can’t stop him.

Tommy will continue to run headfirst into reckless situations, like chasing his friend’s killer down, because it’s what he is meant to do. No one can stop that spirit from chasing after its purpose.

Wilbur hates it. He wants Tommy safe, safe with him and the rest of his friends. He wants him to stay alive, and he wants him to stay unharmed. Wilbur cares too much about people. Wilbur cares too much about his friends.

..when had Wilbur considered Tommy his friend?

Wilbur snaps back into reality to find all three boys looking at him, grim determination set on their faces, an unstoppable force. Wilbur sighs.

“Fine. Fine, I’ll- please just stay safe. And tell me everything you’re doing.”

Tommy looks surprised, but his eyebrows furrow in confusion. “But your-”

Wilbur puts a hand up, heart thudding painfully in his chest. He thinks he about to be sick. “My anxiety will be worse if I don’t know where you guys are. At least keep me updated, or tell me what you’re about to do so I can take proper measures to keep you safe. Please.”

Tommy blinks with wide eyes, then grins with a softness Wilbur had never seen before. “Thank you Wilbur, seriously.”

Wilbur looks away and waves a hand, still feeling a swirling sickness in his stomach. “If you do anything that goes too far, I will literally drag you back here. That’s a promise.”

Tommy snorts. “You’ll have to catch me first.”

Wilbur smiles, and it feels real for once. Despite his sudden nervousness and stress of the future, and the anxiety buzzing around in every vein of his, he feels hopeful. A hopeful apprehension for the future, almost an excitement. He hopes the feeling stays for as long as it can.

He’ll keep Tommy safe, because there’s no world in which he doesn’t keep Tommy safe. He has to.

..

Wilbur blinks out of his thoughts at the smell of smoke.

Tubbo whips his head up. “The cake.”

“Shit.”

—————

In the end, the cake is only half burned- still edible in Wilbur’s opinion. Most of it is a beautiful golden brown, not as burned as the group had originally thought. The only real problem is how half of it is lopsided from an air bubble collapsing. Because of Tommy’s accident with the mixer, they weren’t able to get all the air bubbles out.

Tommy adores the lopsided cake because it’s lopsided. A huge smile adorns his face while he helps Wilbur frost it with white frosting, looking at the cake as if it’s the best thing he’s ever created. Wilbur would be lying if he said it wasn’t a little endearing.

The frosting job is- for a lack of a better word, shit. Half of it is melted because Tommy didn’t want to wait for the cake to cool before frosting, and then he went and did it anyway when Wilbur and Ranboo said he should wait. It’s pretty harmless- the cake isn’t the prettiest thing, but anyone could tell there was a lot of effort put into it.

Ranboo and Tubbo decorate the cake using piping icing, decorating the edges and lining the outsides with colorful swirls. It definitely isn’t the best cake by far, but it’ll taste better than it looks.

They let Tubbo and Ranboo off with a shouty goodbye and leave the cake sitting in the fridge overnight, and by the morning, it’s ready to go to Niki.

Wilbur and Tommy carefully take their cake out of their dorm in the early morning, feeling the autumn-turn-winter wind hitting their cheeks. The leaves crunch underfoot as Tommy fumbles with the box the cake is held in, and Wilbur quickly saves the cake and keeps it away from the younger boy. They make it to the bakery ten minutes before opening time.

Wilbur knocks on the door, feeling a smile creep on his lips. A muted sigh is heard from inside before a shadow steps up to the door, opening it a crack.

“Wilbur!” Niki greets tiredly, “I’m on the opening shift, you can just keep coming before we open, y’know.“ she looks to the boy on Wilbur’s side. “Oh, hello! Tommy, right?”

Tommy puffs up. “Yup! We brought cake.”

Realization dawns In Niki’s eyes as she looks down to the cake Wilbur holds, and Wilbur slithers past her to put the box on the counter near the register. “Is it alright if we store it in your fridge for now? We really don’t have enough space to keep it longer than a night.”

Niki grins. “I don’t see why not. Here lemme just open it and-”

Niki opens the cake and stops short.

Tommy beams, vaulting himself over the counter and ignoring Wilbur’s scolding as he settles up to Niki’s side. “Do ya like it? Me and Tubs and Ranboob helped! It’s the best cake in the world, a cake that could kill god with it’s greatness!”

Niki blinks back surprise. “Ah.. yes- it’s lovely! It has a lot of..”

Wilbur takes a peak over her shoulder. Some of the frosting is sticking to the sides, and a bit of the cake is smooshed.

“..personality?”

Wilbur cringes. “Sorry Niki, but it would’ve turned out worse if I did it on my own. It’s still edible.”

Niki nods and closes the box, hiding the cake away from view. “That’s good. Basically all a cake needs is to be edible, so good job on that part. I’ll probably be here early in the morning on the day of the bake sale to set things up.”

Wilbur frowns, “Is no one else gonna help?”

Niki laughs and shakes her head, “Nobody really wants to get up at five in the morning, so it’s fine. I understand.”

Wilbur nods, feeling something twist in his gut. “We’ll try to help.”

“No we won’t-”

Wilbur claps a hand over Tommy’s mouth. “We’ll try to help you set up in the morning, that way you won’t do it alone. You do too much for other people, Niki.”

Niki laughs and shakes her head, “Aw, you guys don’t have to wake up early for me. I’ll be fine.”

Wilbur purses his lips, but chooses not to argue the issue anymore. “We’ll be there.”

Niki rolls her eyes and walks then to the door, “I’m sure you will, Wilbur.”

An alarm rings on Tommy’s phone, breaking the calm atmosphere of the bakery. He checks it and his eyes go wide. “Ah shit- I have a class like, literally right now. Shit fuck- how-?”

“Go.” Wilbur says, a small grin peaking at his lips, “You be fast enough if you run.”

Tommy jumps into a mock salute, a bright smile on his face, “Yessir! See ya Wilbur! Bye Niki!”

Niki waves as Tommy sprints off, “Bye Tommy! Stay safe!”

A distant shout from Tommy. “I always do!”

Wilbur sighs drearily and Niki looks towards him with a smile as they walk the rest of the distance to the door. Wilbur has a few classes today, and he feels motivated and ready to work, no longer in that mental sinkhole that kept him from moving the day before.

“Bye Niki, have a good day.” Wilbur says and steps out the door, feeling as light as a feather.

“You too Wil, and seriously,” Niki says, putting her hand on the door, “Thank you for doing this. I really appreciate it.”

Wilbur shakes his head, watching as Tommy sprints back to the dorms before his class starts. “It’s no problem, it was a good distraction. Got me moving.”

“Good distraction?”

“Yeah,” Wilbur says with a smile, “Good distraction.”