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“Ah, perfect,” Wilbur said as he took a picture of George for his Instagram story, soon to be captioned with the now classic “cute date”.
“Alright, your turn,” George grins at Wilbur who adjusts his hat before smiling back at George’s phone camera. “Annnnd got it. How’s this?” George turned the phone to let Wilbur see the picture, who then responds with a flirty “What do you think?” and a wink. Scoffing, George pulls back his phone and acts as though he’s examining the picture. “I guess it will suffice,” he returns with a smile. The flirty banter between the two of them has become a more common, comfortable recurrence lately, and Wilbur is not at all complaining; he’d be lying if he said George doesn’t manage to make him blush on occasion.
These weird feelings were something new for Wilbur, only really appearing after George started reciprocating the small touches and the silly nicknames. Honestly, he was unsure what to do with them. He felt it was highly unlikely that George would see him in any other way than creator friend, so for now, Wilbur will simply try to ignore the butterflies he gets in his stomach when George smiles at him.
Wilbur hates to admit that the small crush he had on George had only grown stronger through the day, especially as they were alone in Wilbur’s apartment. It wasn’t the first time George had stayed at Wilbur’s place after a vlog day, but it was the first time Wilbur held his breath when George sat next to him on the couch, wondering how big of a space he would leave between the two, and it was the first time George, in fact, left about no space between them. Wilbur mentally pushed the tight feeling attempting to flood his chest away as he fumbled with the remote for the TV.
Wilbur wasn’t sure how coherent his thoughts would sound with the sudden contact he and George shared, so he was thankful they already agreed on a movie to watch on their way to the apartment. He had somehow convinced George to watch La La Land with him. Wilbur himself was a sucker for musicals, and his intense eagerness to see what the raving reviews were for on a movie neither of them had seen before was enough for George to agree to watch it.
As the movie plays, Wilbur’s internal awkwardness fades away, and he’s reminded of how easily he and George play off each other. He can’t help but feel a small sense of pride when George laughs at one of his stupid jokes or agrees with a comment he makes about the movie. Maybe it’s the pride that makes Wilbur more subconsciously comfortable around George, because without really thinking, Wilbur adjusts his body to cautiously lay his head on George's shoulder.
“Is this alright?” he asks, “I don’t really know where you put the line at with physical touch. I know I’m really touchy,” Wilbur laughs, seeing a knowing smile on George’s face. It was true, and sometimes George would slightly jump at Wilbur’s touch around the shoulder, but he’s never pulled away, and more and more he’s actually leaned into the contact. Wilbur just didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.
“It’s fine, Wilbur,” George answered, “I think I’ve somehow gotten used to you randomly being close to me. So with you, the physical touch doesn’t really bother me as much, I guess.” Wilbur would be lying if he said he didn’t turn his head away from George to hide the smile that was growing across his face.
It isn’t long before the movie comes to end with a result that neither of them was expecting; the two main characters don’t have a happily-ever-after love story.
“Wait, they actually are leaving each other? They were like, in love. It doesn’t end with a big happy ending?” George asks with confusion flooding his voice
“Maybe they weren’t really in love then, right? I’d like to think that someone who was in true love would choose that love over even their dream career,” Wilbur responds, though his voice is softer than George’s.
“Hmm, yeah,” George hums softly with his eyebrows furrowed, thinking over Wilbur’s answer. “So like being with that person is worth more than anything else to them,” he talks with his hands and his features soften as he explains his thoughts, which is one of the little things Wilbur finds himself admiring about him. “I like that, that would be the dream to have, I think,” George smiles to himself.
“Well, I think you deserve to have that one day, George, you’d be worth it,” Wilbur spoke. If he were a coward, he would say the moment became too serious and would beg for the tension to dissipate, but he doesn’t feel like a coward right now, and he hopes George recognizes this.
Wilbur looks up at George with his chin still resting on the other’s shoulder. George turns his head to match Wilbur's gaze. His lips quirk up in a small smile, and he slightly throws Wilbur off when he giggles, “Why’re you looking at me like that?”
“Like what, George?” he automatically responded, mirroring the other’s smile
“I don’t know,” George starts playfully and rolls his eyes. “Like you…,” he begins again, softer this time, but the words die really before they even formed, and Wilbur’s eyes are again looking right back into George’s.
The eye contact with George was almost too intense for Wilbur to endure, but he knew he couldn’t let whatever moment this could turn out to be slip away. Maybe it was stupid, Wilbur thought, to even consider that George would be experiencing the same rushing feeling through his heart at their touch as Wilbur did, but the flickering of George’s eyes and the soft breaths he barely released made Wilbur’s doubt shrink and his confidence grow. He took a breath and leaned forward, his heart beating loudly in his chest.
And their lips touched. It wasn’t perfect, no, they were in an awkward position, and it was full of uncertainty as neither of them was truly confident going into it, but it was enough to make Wilbur smile into the kiss, and a fire erupted in him when he felt George’s lips also smile against his own. They kissed each other again, and slowly, they began to learn each other’s movements and mold their own actions to form a more perfect kiss. Wilbur sat up so he could more easily lean into George, and George began to recognize how he should move his head to let Wilbur deepen the kiss. He cautiously touches the tip of his tongue to George’s lips and releases his own breath when George reciprocates. Wilbur’s hands easily found their home, with one nestling itself on the back of George’s neck and the other pulling at his waist. George’s hands are more gentle on Wilbur, resting in his unruly hair and smooth jaw, but they still send electric shocks to Wilbur through each small move they make. After a few moments, Wilbur’s hand makes its way to the side of George’s neck, and his thumb traces the skin there. He pushes down just slightly and feels George kiss him back with more force. More his mind craves, and he pulls back.
“George, fuck, can I give you a hickey?” Wilbur breathlessly asks, eyes looking glassy at the other. George’s lips part for just a second, but no voice comes out, and Wilbur quickly regrets trying to move too fast.
“Y-you can say no. It’s okay. I totally understand,” Wilbur says, his voice recognizably less confident than it was a moment ago. He is genuinely unsure where he is supposed to go from here, and he begins to pull himself away from George, but then George places one of his own hands atop of Wilbur’s along his neck.
“No, no. Please, Wil, yes,” George urges as he pulls Wilbur back to him.
So Wilbur does. He leans forward to George and kisses his lips again, more softly than they were moving a minute ago. His lips leave a trail of sweet kisses down to George’s neck, and he savors each small breath he can hear the other take. He latches on the soft skin there and begins to leave a mark. After a few moments of listening to soft whimpers from George as he sucks on his neck, Wilbur pulls back to look at the forming bruises left behind. Gorgeous, he thinks to himself before leaning in and leaving soft kisses along the marks. He makes his way back to George’s lips, which eagerly latch onto Wilbur’s.
They continue to make out, but neither of them make any more advancements as the night continues. Wilbur didn’t want George to feel like a one-night-stand, and he wasn’t one for hookups anyway; he’d rather move slow. If he was being honest and hopeful, he’d like to think that George could possibly feel the same.
As the night grew later, they still found themselves making their way to Wilbur’s room with lingering contact and giddy smiles across their cheeks. When they lay down to sleep, George is curled against Wilbur, facing away from him and leaving Wilbur with a view of the small dark curls along George’s neck. Wilbur falls asleep with a hand wrapped around George, holding him close and tracing his chest through his t-shirt, and he would swear that a smile stayed on his face through the whole night.
Wilbur wakes up with his arm still loosely slung across George’s waist, though George is no longer curled up but is sprawled out on his back. As Wilbur sees George’s new position, he smiles to himself. There is a little ray of light coming into the room from an open slit in the curtain, revealing it’s probably late morning already, which Wilbur confirms when he checks his phone and sees it’s 11 am. He sighs at the idea of this peaceful morning coming to an end but leaves his bed for the bathroom anyway.
Wilbur lets water run through his hands before bringing them to his face to wake himself up. …. He pats his skin dry and examines himself in the mirror. Before he could even think to help it, a smile grew across his face. He kissed George, and George kissed him back. Wilbur shakes his head at himself as a blush highlights his cheeks. A small question of where they will go from here appeared in the back of his mind, but he knew addressing that question would only bring him anxiety, so he ignored it as he walked back into his room.
The first thing he notices when he approaches the bed is that it is now empty. For a split second, Wilbur is sure that George left and worry begins to build. The second thing he notices is that his bedroom door is open, and the guest bathroom is occupied. He chuckles at his own paranoia as he makes his way to the kitchen to start making coffee.
Moments later, Wilbur hears the bathroom door open and calls out to let him know he’s not in the bedroom. George walks out wearing the hoodie that he brought over with him last night but hadn’t fallen asleep in.
“Good morning, George. Oh, were you cold?” Wilbur greets him, gesturing to his sweater.
George looks down at his hoodie and replies, “Oh, yeah, heh. Just a little, I guess.”
It’s as George is giving this hesitant answer that Wilbur can’t help but notice the hood is pulled close to his neck, failing at hiding the sweet bruises he left the night before. He smiles to himself at the memory and at George’s obvious shyness of the marks.
“Can I make you any coffee or tea? Or grab you some water?” Wilbur tries his best at being a good host, but he doesn’t do it very often, especially not with a friend who he has a crush on and kissed less than 12 hours ago.
“No, thank you. I have to leave soon for my train actually. I didn’t realize how late it was,” George says while looking down at his phone.
“Oh yeah, it’s later than I was expecting too. I can drive you up to the station? What time does your train leave?”
“I actually just ordered an Uber,” George finally looks up from his phone to Wilbur, but it was only for a fleeting second. As much as he tried to brush it off as paranoia again, Wilbur would swear there was tension between the words they weren't saying, between the actions they weren’t mentioning, but you wouldn’t be able to tell that from George’s words. He’s letting the conversation flow between them so casually, showing no signs of feeling awkward or jittery, as long as you ignore the lack of eye contact.
“Oh, okay,” Wilbur muttered. He was honestly just thrown off, and he wasn’t sure what to do next because, for some reason, George doesn’t plan on staying around for long. He says goodbye to George without any other outreach, and George is out the door before Wilbur even realizes he opened it for him, leaving no moment for even a shared smile. Wilbur watches George’s figure until it makes it to the end of the hall, turning in the direction of the building’s elevator, then he shuts the door.
“Huh,” Wilbur says out loud to himself. It was just weird. It could’ve been that George actually didn’t want to be there, but Wilbur figured that was just his own mind which would tend to make him believe only the worst-case scenario. Objectively, all of George’s actions in leaving were justified; he had a train to catch, and probably didn’t want to inconvenience Wilbur by asking him to drive. Not that Wilbur would’ve felt like it was an inconvenience, but he knew that's just how George’s polite mind would have thought. He shakes his head at the racing thoughts in his head, trying to avoid unnecessary overthinking, and moves to make himself a cup of coffee.
After 10 days, Wilbur begins to think maybe the overthinking wasn’t actually unnecessary.
He had waited a while to say anything to George, wanting to let him make the next “move” because George wasn’t the one to initiate the kiss or to bring up hickeys, but he was the one to seemingly be eager to leave Wilbur’s place. He doesn’t know why George hasn’t reached out to him. Well, he has some ideas, but he’s not sure where exactly he went wrong. It’s once 10 days pass that Wilbur decides he can’t keep waiting just for practically nothing except what he feels like is growing tension. The more time he let pass felt like the more awkward it was going to be to talk about what happened that night, or rather the next morning.
Wilbur sends a simple text to George, greeting him before explaining that he wants to talk to him about the night they shared together, because he feels like there really is something they need to talk about, then he asks George to call him when he gets the chance. Wilbur sends the text despite hating the formality of it, especially when he feels as though he’s making it seem like a much bigger deal than George probably thinks it is, but he needs to get this over with for his own sake.
It’s not more than ten minutes later that Wilbur’s phone starts ringing with George’s name on the screen, and he hardly hesitates before accepting the call. “Hey! George, how are you?” he answers, hoping the fake optimism in his voice will make even himself believe it.
“Hi, I’m alright, thanks. How are you doing?” George responds, but his voice reveals nothing about what he could be thinking. Not only that, but Wilbur also can’t help but once again despise the formalities they share, as if they are simple acquaintances rather than two people who shared a bed less than two weeks ago.
“I’m not doing too bad. I just, you know, I wanted to talk,” Wilbur stops for a moment, needing to recompose his thoughts before he accidentally starts to ramble around the matter and subconsciously avoids addressing it. “I think we should talk about whatever happened that last night we hung out together. I don’t know about you, but I think we left a lot unsaid.” He nervously chuckles as he finishes.
“Yeah, yeah I know. I think we should too,” George takes a small breath. “I should have reached out sooner. I just, I don’t know, I was,” he pauses, and the uncertainty is prevalent in his voice.
Wilbur decides to bite the bullet, “I have to tell you, George, I like you, and I know I would be willing to see where this thing between us could go, but of course, I’m not sure if you feel the same. And, god, I was getting anxious waiting to see if you would say something first but you weren’t and I didn’t know if I could keep letting this draw itself out before I about lost my mind and I,” Wilbur stops himself and rubs the back of his neck. He chuckles, “The point is I like you, but I have no idea where you’re at, and I’m asking for you to tell me.”
“Wilbur, I,” George starts, “I enjoyed that night with you, I really did. I enjoy spending time with you in general.” Wilbur can hear a smile in George’s voice, and he smiles to himself. Wilbur can admit to himself that he’s probably blushing like a little teenager.
“But I don't think that it would be good for us to take any further steps in that direction. And I know I should've said something sooner, but it was, like, it just,” George paused once more as he was beginning to trail off.
Wilbur tries his hardest to keep the sound of his heart dropping out of his voice as he cuts in to say, “Yeah, yeah I get it. It’s alright, George.” There’s a passing moment before either of them speaks again.
“But Wilbur, I-I do like you,” George stutters out, “It’s just, you know, with the vlogs and all, it wouldn’t be good if something were to happen, and I don’t think we should risk it-”
“I understand-”
“-And I just don’t think I even want to be in a relationship right now, you know-”
“George, George, I promise, I understand,” Wilbur stops George’s small ramble. “Thank you for telling me, really. It just felt like something we should talk about, so I had to ask is all.”
“I’m sorry still,” George replies softly, and his remorse nearly throws Wilbur’s heart in the gutter.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it, really. You have a good night George, alright?”
“You too, Wil. Goodnight.”
And with that, their talk was over.
Wilbur was fine, genuinely he was! He never let his small crush manifest to be anything major for this exact reason! He can brush away those nights imagining how it would be to actually be George’s partner and how they would hide their relationship and who they would tell first because ultimately he knew it was unlikely to be anything real!
For Wilbur, the truth was that he knew he had a tendency to let his mind get lost in something too quickly, and this wasn’t the first time it had happened to him. So while he was a bit let down, he was perfectly able to accept this outcome and move on with his life, and his friendship with George.
At least, he had thought so.
Wilbur had found himself in a discord call full of a handful of random people after a DreamSMP stream by a few creators. It had been a couple of weeks since the confession call from Wilbur and the awkward rejection from George. The two had conversed with each other since the call, but it was only briefly, usually in the presence of other people, and never about anything below surface level. Still, them being a VC together wasn’t anything groundbreaking, and Wilbur had pretty much zoned out of the conversation, simply appreciating his friends’ familiar voices as background noise. That was until a question directed at George piqued his interest.
“George, what is up with your love life?” Karl questions. “Are you waiting on Dream to make a move, or what’s up with that?”
George laughs quietly at the question while Wilbur rolls his eyes. The jealousy that made its small home in his head briefly surprised him, but the conversation following Dream and George actually doesn’t. It wasn’t much of a secret to their broad circle that there was something real between the two, it was the specifics that were more vaguely known. “We’re not actually dating, really,” George speaks softly as he gives his answer, and it reminds Wilbur of the shyness that he carries when talking about more personal topics. “Recently I know he’s been mentioning it more and more, but we decided to wait until we are together in person to be like, official, I guess. There’s just been a lot of setbacks, so I’m waiting here for now.”
“Oh, okay. Yeah, that’s fair,” Karl replies.
Wilbur turns his head in confusion at George’s answer. He could have sworn that George told Wilbur he didn’t want to be in a relationship, yet he was here claiming he was “waiting” for Dream. It’s fine, he told himself, knowing he can get so consumed by his feelings for someone, even though he had already told himself he dropped these feelings. He knows doesn't have the right to be mad about this; George never had any obligation to explain his reasonings to Wilbur, and he is allowed to keep things to himself.
Ready to move on from the topic, he starts to busy himself again by responding to overdue messages. However, Jack pushes further into George’s life and asks, “But there hasn’t been anyone in London to hold you down for all this time? I mean, come on George, you’re a handsome fella in your prime. You have just been holding out for him this whole time?”
Wilbur stops again, holding his breath as he waits for George’s answer. While he highly doubts George would dare call him out by name, he can feel himself hoping that he might hint at it in some way, or at least pass through George’s mind.
“No, there hasn’t been anyone,” George responds briefly with a small chuckle. “I’m fine with waiting for him,” he adds, sounding like he’s assuring everyone that it really is something he wants.
Wilbur’s eyebrows instantly furrow. Not anyone?
“I’m right here,” he wanted to shout at George. Did George not feel the connection they shared? Was it just a fun night to him? He knows it’s not actually his place to be hurt or even jealous because he knew Dream played some romantic part in George’s life, but Wilbur wasn’t sure how much more he could take of George talking about his weird relationship with Dream when he can still remember George's fingertips against his skin and his breath mixing with Wilbur's own and the look in his eyes right before their lips connected.
And most of all, he can remember when George rejected him because he “didn’t want to be in a relationship”.
Wilbur wasn't mad.
He was a little upset, annoyed, maybe. Maybe he just didn't completely understand, but he wanted to.
Because it just really, really, didn't make sense to him. Why didn’t George just tell Wilbur that he wanted to be with Dream? He instead went as far as to tell Wilbur he liked him when it seems as though he never had any real intention of giving him a chance, and gave him different reasons than the truth. And Wilbur would have preferred the truth over some excuse that didn't even add up in the end. He would have preferred the truth instead of a weird form of false hope (although he would blame that hope on his own desperate mind, not on George).
Okay, so maybe Wilbur was a little mad.
He didn't want to be mad at George, but a few days later, he felt like he was slowly turning into a mess.
The thoughts that would flood his mind when he dwelled on their interactions for too long left him asking what it was that he did wrong. Was George so embarrassed by Wilbur that he would prefer to act like whatever they had had never happened? Why had George decided Dream was worth waiting for, but Wilbur wasn’t worth even giving a try?
Wilbur didn’t remember making the decision to write a text, but he vaguely remembers typing out the words he wanted to say to George, and he thinks he snapped back into reality the second his fingers met the enter button on his screen.
are you embarrassed of what happened between us?
Instantly, Wilbur set his phone down and let his face fall into his hands. “What. The fuck, Wil,” he said out loud to himself as regret settled in. While it was a genuine question that he found himself coming back to the most, he didn’t want George to feel completely bombarded by the personal question asked with no context. Once Wilbur accepted that the text had been sent, he scrambled to grab his phone and compose a message that could at least be somewhat less humiliating.
i’m sorry, that was out of nowhere.
i shouldn’t even be caring about it anymore, but i heard what you said on discord the other day and i was thinking about it again
i guess i was actually thinking more of what you didn’t say in the call
Wilbur sends it, and he waits. He holds his phone in one hand while chewing on the fingernails of his other, and his leg bounces without his permission. “Christ,” he whispers to himself, realizing that he doesn’t know how long he could be waiting for a response from George, that’s if George even wanted to give Wilbur the time. Naturally, Wilbur moves to start stress-cleaning his apartment, and before even an hour passes by, his phone chimes and a text from George is displayed on the screen.
wait what? im not embarrassed
i just didn’t think it was something i should share with others ?
Wilbur begins chewing on his nails again, feeling embarrassed for looking as if he was taking an obviously rational decision in such a personal way. He wanted to explain himself but every thought he tried to put into words just came across as putting blame on George for Wilbur’s own feelings, which George never had a way of knowing. Maybe it was time to tell him?
can we call?
Every action that Wilbur did made his skin crawl and felt like it needed a million words behind it to justify its purpose. He once again hated his mind for overthinking nearly every situation he was in and for even trying to predict how George is interpreting what he is saying. Texting left too much room for misunderstandings, so he was thankful to hear his phone ringing less than a minute later.
“George, hi,” he answers, feeling horribly awkward at the conversation he’s about to have.
“Hi, Wilbur,” George’s voice is painfully neutral, revealing nothing about his thoughts, which reminds Wilbur of the honest conversation they had over the phone weeks ago.
“I’m sorry for pulling this out of nowhere. I know it sounds ridiculous, really, it does. But I-”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about Wilbur,” George cuts him off. He sounds exasperated, and Wilbur is immediately thrown off. “It is out of nowhere. I thought this was something we already talked about and were both ready to move forward from. I didn’t think I had to be careful when talking about my love life when you’re around.”
Oh. George is upset. This was not the reaction Wilbur was expecting, and he moved to become defensive.
“Yeah, we talked, but clearly there were some things you didn’t want to tell me about, things that you wanted to keep from me maybe? I just don’t know why,” Wilbur responded, and the softness that had started in his voice about completely turned to confusion and some frustration.
“What?” George practically scoffed out.
“Why didn’t you just tell me you never wanted to be with me in the first place? Why did you let me kiss you and fall asleep next to you if you never planned on letting it mean anything? You didn’t even mention it. Were you thinking of Dream that entire time?” And there, Wilbur began to lay out just some of the questions encircling his mind for the past few days, even though he was scared for the answers, scared for the truth.
“Wilbur, I was not thinking of Dream, oh my god. I- I,” George stopped to compose himself. “I just shouldn’t have kissed you back in the first place, that’s why I didn’t mention it; I couldn’t let it mean anything. I’m sorry, but I shouldn’t have let it happen to begin with.”
Wilbur huffs out an angry breath then speaks softly as he reaches his conclusion, “Because you’re supposed to be waiting for Dream, not thinking about me in that way.”
“Don’t say it like that. I really am sorry,” his voice came out pleading, but Wilbur could hardly find it in him to care as George continued. “Why is all of this coming out now, it feels like it's out of nowhere, Wilbur. It was just one small thing that happened that I thought we both could move forward from. I’m sorry if you didn’t consider my reasons not worthy enough, but I didn’t think I needed to explain my entire way of thinking to you.”
That last part kind of hurt Wilbur because it’s the exact opposite way he feels when talking to George. He wants to tell George all of his thoughts because he wants George to know him and understand him. It’s very clear to him now that this isn’t reciprocated. “I’m sorry too, George. You know, maybe I tend to let myself get attached too quickly, but I know there was something there, something in those hours we spent together. And maybe I don’t really have the right to, but I really care about you. I love when you tell me your stories and find new ways we relate to each other; I felt those connections. So I guess I’m sorry for being wrong about it all and thinking this was a deeper thing than the surface level you see it as, you really fooled me.” He knows it’s too late to be telling George these things, but a small part of Wilbur wants to remind him of why they could’ve been so good together. Maybe another small part of him wants to make George feel guilty for playing into their love story just until the happy ending moment.
“Wilbur, what do you want me to say to you?” The fire is back in George’s voice as he still pleads, “Even if I admit to you that I could feel myself falling too, and that’s why it was so easy for me to be with you all the time and tell you about my life and fucking kiss you, what difference could it make now? The truth is that I’m going to leave England anyway, and I can’t build something here just to leave it all behind. I’d rather crush it all down now because we both know it would be so much harder if it was all beautifully put together. I’m sorry, but you have to understand.” His voice cracks on the last apology, and it makes a part of Wilbur wish he could comfort him until all of the frustration in George is gone. “It’s not you, it’s just the way life is working out for me. I can’t gain you just to inevitably lose you.”
“God,” Wilbur breathes out, defeat in his voice. “I’m sorry too.” They both pause for a moment. “It was nice while it lasted,” he says with a dry laugh that really does nothing to diffuse the tension. “Fuck,” he whispers under his breath.
“I guess so,” George adds softly. They both pause for a minute, letting the dust settle. “Now what? I’ll see you around I guess?”
“Give me time, both of us probably need it, but yeah, I’ll see you,” Wilbur’s voice is shaky with the finality of this closing, “Goodbye, George.”
“Bye, Wilbur,” and George ends the call.
Wilbur leans his head on the back of the couch he’s sitting on. His legs are no longer bouncing, but his small breaths are quivering. For a fleeting second, Wilbur almost finds it humorous that their story had the same destiny as the movie they watched on the night they kissed. He realizes he was never in as much control of his emotions as he thought, but that’s what a boy like George will do to you. Wilbur could’ve had his heart broken a million times before, but he thinks George would have still easily gotten a hold of him and unknowingly made him believe in a chance for them. George, with the soft smile and freckled skin, who laughed at all of Wilbur’s jokes and played into his cute dates and curled into him at the end of the night, and who had someone waiting for him in a country thousands of miles away, he’s who would turn Wilbur’s poor heart into a mess.