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"Fuck off, Wilbur," Quackity said blankly. Wilbur laughed at his rival's display of weakness.
"Whatever you say, pretty boy." Wilbur teased. "See ya tomorrow." He added when Quackity flipped him off. He waved good-naturedly to Slime as he passed through the Las Nevadas gates. He kept a smirk on his face all the way back to Paradise.
Closing the door, he stood in the entrance of his home for a good minute. Staring.
He fell to the ground and let out a silent sob. He was so tired. Nobody came to visit. Nobody stopped to talk. Nobody cares.
He sat for a long time, unmoving. Lost in thought. Not all negative, but non positive.
Who was the last person he talked to that cared?
He lost Tommy through lies.
He lost Techno through betrayal.
He lost Phil by ignoring him.
And Tubbo just flat out stopped talking to him.
And Fundy actively told him to Fuck Off.
His youngest brother.
His twin.
His father.
The boy who looked up to him from his adoption.
And his own fucking son.
And for what? Why did he push them away? He can't remember. He resents himself.
Of course, he's way past anxiety or panic attacks. He hasn't had one since before the fall of L'manburg. XD knows how.
He spent the rest of the night lost in thought, unmoving, unsleeping.
When morning came, he was only pushed off the floor by the prospect of work.
The burger van was a fun place to cause havoc. Shame, Wilbur was much too tired for that today.
Walking, he came across Ranboo.
"Ah, there's my young protege!" And with that, Wilbur had put up his mask. His facade of happiness.
"O-oh, hello Wilbur, I thought you would already be…" Ranboo trailed off but pointed in the direction of the van.
"Well, my good lad, as you can see I am not in fact there. What do you say we walk together?" He said brightly. Ranboo shrugged lightly. "Excellent," Wilbur forced a too-happy tone, watching Ranboo recoil slightly.
"Yep," They said simply, turning back to the road.
As usual, business was slow.
And by slow, I mean non-existent.
After about two hours, Ranboo asked to head to lunch.
"What, without me?" Wilbur faked offense. Ranboo didn't pick up on it.
"W-well, I guess, but I k-kinda-" He stuttered, making vague hand gestures.
"I'm messing with you, man. Go on ahead," Wilbur reassured. As much as he hates to admit it, he cares for the Enderman, if only just a little.
Besides, he's got a duck to annoy.
The walk to Quackity's office was just as boring as it always was. Lighting a cigarette, Wilbur smiled and waved good-naturedly to the city residents, most of which just looked the other way.
If he felt a pang of hurt at that, he sure as hell didn't show it.
Walking into the rival burger place (which was literally connected to the biggest building and casino in the city) he walked right past Slime, who has learned that it's funnier if he doesn't stop Wilbur.
Walking right into the dark room, Wilbur sat down in the chair opposite the president. The president in question didn't even look up from whatever he was working on.
"Slime, what have I told you about this Saco de mierda, " Quackity called out the open door.
"Yeah Slime, what did he tell you about me?" Wilbur echoed mockingly.
"Sorry Quackity from Las Nevadas, guess I didn't see him," The bodyguard smiled wide as it blatantly lied. Quackity just sighed and turned back to his work, still not giving Wilbur any attention.
After about thirty seconds Wilbur grew annoyed. Reaching over the desk he pulled the beanie over Quackity's eyes, startling him.
"What the fuck?!" He shouted, glaring at Wilbur.
"You aren't giving me attention," Wilbur smiled lazily.
"For good fuckin' reason. All you do is bother me," His dark eyes flared, and Wilbur matched them with lidded red ones.
"Aww Q, I thought you loved me," Wilbur turned in his chair and crossed his legs, something he knew annoyed the duck.
"Slime!"
Wilbur dropped the smile, opting for an annoyed look instead, eyes never changing. "Listen Q, you know I don't like you any more than you like me. But I think-"
"I don't want anything to do with you or your stupid rivalries and deals!" Quackity slammed his papers down and stood, locking eyes with the undead.
"But-"
Quackity unfolded his wings, stretching them to their full length, like an animal raising its hackles. A show of anger. A threat. Wilbur had seen the same display from his dad, and his memory shut him up.
Standing, Wilbur gave one last glare to his rival before walking back out into the city, followed by Slime.
"You know, Wilbur from L'manburg, Quackity is never this angry when you're not around," Slime always spoke with a smile.
"That's the whole point, Slime," Wilbur turned to walk backward beside the creature.
Slime copied Wilbur, leaning down to look him in the eyes. It was again brought to Wilbur's attention that it was taller than him. Annoyingly.
"Maybe you two could be kinder?" He suggested. Wilbur rolled his eyes.
"That's not how 'rivalry' works, Slime from Las Nevadas." Wilbur mocked the way the bodyguard talked.
Slime dropped his smile, and Wilbur turned back around, reaching the border. After he crossed, leaving Slime on the other side, It called after him,
"I have been watching for a very long time, Wilbur from Las Nevadas," Wilbur looked over his eyes to see Slime, and was taken aback by the serious (dare I say, stern?) Look on his face. "And one thing I've noticed is that wars never truly end. Don't start what you can't finish."
Without a word, Wilbur turned and walked into the tree line. Pulling out his comm, he sent a message to Ranboo.
-you whisper to Ranboo: have the rest of the day off.
-you whisper to Ranboo: I'm going home.
Paradise appeared in the trees, and it reminded Wilbur of a haunted house from some of Phil's stories.
-Ranboo whispers to you: yessir
Wilbur chuckled quietly. Maybe he really did care for the bi-colored creature.
He sat on his bed and glanced around the room. A one-room house, with a bed, a crafting table, a stove, a chest, and an empty flower pot. It once held an allium from Tommy, but it had long since died. Doesn't matter if it's a quartz and diamond mansion or a day one dirt shack, as soon as you place the crafting table next to the furnace, it's home, Wilbur recalled an old joke from Techno? Phil? Doesn't matter, but at the time, it seemed true.
But looking around this day whatever dirt shack, Wilbur realized it wasn't true. Paradise wasn't home. It was a bed. A spawn point. A roof. A house.
Home is where you can truly feel safe. Home is where, even when you're alone, you know you are loved.
Some people grow up alone and hence prefer to live alone. But Wilbur grew up in a full house, a house that always had guests over, a house where you were never alone. A house so full of love that he didn't know anything else.
Then he died.
Thirteen years alone, he felt like a rug had been pulled out from under him. Like he had been forcefully taken off a drug. But, when you stay long enough, you get used to anything.
When he came back, he wasn't flooded with love, but people tried. It was his fault they never came back, because love is a two-way street. He pushed them away with lies and too harsh truths. Betrayal and pain.
He was shocked by a knock at his door.
It was Ranboo. Of course, it was, who else?
"Hey, uh, you left this at the v-van, so I thought I'd return it," Ranboo shoved a small necklace into a shocked Wilbur's chest. "Sorry for intruding, um, I just didn't want you to lose it."
Wilbur held it up. It was a small sealed jar on a leather cord, full of gold and a small black down feather. A gift from Techno, who made him the jar when Wilbur started growing in his flight feathers. His wings had decayed (painfully) while he was in limbo, but he still kept the jar.
"Thank you. But I could have picked this up tomorrow, you know," Wilbur looked past the jar to Ranboo.
Ranboo tugged at the triangle earring he was wearing. "Well, um, it's just, i-i always feel a little lost when I lose my jewelry, so I just kinda assumed…" trailing off, Ranboo fidgeted with the necklace around their neck.
Wilbur's eyes floated to the jar of gold and hesitantly pulled it over his head, fiddling the jar between his fingers.
Ranboo's tail hit a pile of leaves, scaring both of them.
"I have to... go," Ranboo scratched the back of his neck. Wilbur just looked at them, processing the words.
"Oh! Right, yeah, yes. Uh, yeah, you can go," Stuttering back to life, Wilbur held out his hand, keeping one locked on the jar resting on his chest. "Thanks, Ranboo."
Taking his hand, Ranboo met the man's eyes, something he had never done before. "No problem, sir," They said sincerely.
Wilbur smiled. Like, a real smile, not a mask of one. It… was surprising to him.
"You don't have to act so formal, man," He joked, still grasping onto the Enderman's.
Ranboo smiled, pulling back. He looked genuine. Not nervous, like they normally were. "Goodbye then, Mr. Wilbur Soot," And they saluted teasingly.
Waving, Wilbur stood until he could no longer hear their footprints in the leaves. And even then, he stood for a while longer in the door, examining the charm around his neck.
"Dad!" Wilbur cried. It was early, and he shouldn't be yelling, but he was scared.
Phil rushed in, worry clear on his face. "What's wrong?" He walked over, seeing as there was no visible danger.
"My feathers are falling out!" Wilbur buried his face in his father's nightshirt and pulled his wings tight to his back. Phil noticed the down feathers scattered among Wilbur's bedsheets.
"Aw, Wil, it's alright, it's normal," He reassured, lifting his son's head to look him in the eyes. "It happens to all birds."
Wilbur wiped his eyes. "It is?" He sniffed. "But if they all fall out, then I won't ever fly like you!"
Phil held back a laugh. Everything little kids do is adorable. "These feathers are just down feathers," he explained. "They keep baby birds warm in the nest, like a blanket. They fall out because new flight feathers are going to grow in," Phil pulled his son into a hug. "If they didn't fall out, you wouldn't be able to fly anyway."
Wilbur reached out to touch his father's wings, then his own. They did feel different. Phil's were slick and strong, almost sharp. Wilbur's we're soft and fluffy, and much smaller.
Techno walked into the room just then. "What's wrong?" He asked, much calmer than Phil. Phil held out his hand, inviting him over. Techno grabbed it, eyes still on his twin.
Wilbur smiled. "I'm gonna fly!" He announced. Smirking, he added, "Which means I'm gonna be the cooler twin!"
Matching Wilbur's smirk, Techno grabbed one of the feathers off the bed. "With these? You won't get three feet off the ground."
"Hey!" Wilbur jumped to chase his twin, who ran out with the feather. Phil laughed and went to check on Tommy.
Wilbur smiled softly at the memory. The next day was when Techno had given him the jar.
"Dad!" Wilbur cried. It was in vain. Nobody was here to hear him, least of all Phil. He tried to stretch out his wings, but couldn't. Decayed feathers littered the ground around him, falling out from the strain. He screamed in pain as the bones cracked and the muscles burned.
He hadn't flown in too long, limbo's gravity was too strong. The muscles had decayed, leaving him in pain.
After a few more months, there would be nothing left, save two shriveled stumps of bone sticking out of his back.
The sun set and Wilbur went inside. He laid on his back in bed, feeling the two stumps of bone, and shifted to his side.
Today Wilbur had a plan. He walked to the border of Las Nevadas and stood, not crossing the border. Pulling out a cigarette, he made no move forward.
Waiting.
"Wilbur from L'manburg!" Slime called for the other side. Wilbur lifted his hand in greeting.
"Hey Slime," He didn't put on the facade today. He didn't smile, and he didn't hide his tired tone. "How are you?"
"I'm good. What are you doing here?" Slime stood on its side of the border, and Wilbur still didn't cross.
"I thought about what you said. 'Wars never truly end' and all that," Taking a drag from the cigarette, he turned to the horizon. "Maybe rivalry doesn't matter. Maybe I shouldn't start what I can't finish."
Slime stared at him and stuck out his hand in invitation. "Then come with me, Wilbur. But only if you can hold to your word."
Wilbur looked at the hand and grabbed it hesitantly. Pulling him over the border, Slime pulled away its hand but stood beside him and began walking. Wilbur followed.
They paused at the door to Quackity's office. Wilbur waited, but Slime gestured to him to knock. And he did.
When Quackity opened the door, he stared and Wilbur in silence.
"Hey Q-"
"Nope," Quackity held up a hand to stop him and turned to his bodyguard. "If you keep letting him in, I will fire you, Slime," Quackity scolded.
Slime smiled. "He's here on my invitation, Quackity from Las Nevadas," Slime turned to Wilbur, who had been standing silently.
"Right. Quackity," Wilbur began, not quite sure where he was going. "I- alright. This whole… rivalry thing, um, it was… stupid. And I'm sorry," Wilbur met the duck's eyes and was met with shock.
"You're apologizing?" Quackity said, before smacking Wilbur in the head.
"What the hell!?"
" Dios bueno, finally!" He explained, throwing his hands in the air, and Wilbur ducked. "So you're gonna stop trying to make stupid deals and fights?"
"Yes, gods, did you need to hit me so hard?" Rubbing the side of his head Wilbur outstretched his hand.
"Yes," Quackity said smugly, shaking his hand.
"Who are you going to apologize to next, Wilbur from L'manburg?" Slime had a wide smile on his face. Wilbur replicated it.
"I'm not sure, Slime from Las Nevadas," He shrugged good-naturedly.
Home is a place where you feel safe. A place full of love. But remember, love is a two-way street, and it takes time to build a strong home.