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Wilbur wakes up sobbing.
It's very rare that Wilbur can have a peaceful night of sleep. Most of the time his dreams are plagued by nightmares of the incident and his brother, Tommy's probable death.
He doesn't let it bother him though, he finds ways to cope. He stays up late, drinks unholy amounts of coffee and energy drinks, avoids sleep like it's the plague. He blames it on grief of losing his brother. Nobody bats an eyelid.
Except Charlie.
Charlie, one of the kids in the group home, is impossibly sweet and kind. He's been Wilbur's only friend ever since he had gotten there. They only became friends because they both got bullied by the same people. He's the one who came up with the idea to run away. He's the one who found the apartment in Pogtopia, as dodgy and shitty as it is. It's home.
So is Charlie, in a way.
So, that's why when Charlie is in his nightmares. He freaks out. It upsets him more than any nightmare has in years. Tommy being in his nightmares doesn't freak him out like this. He knows Tommy's dead, he was there for his death. But Charlie?
Charlie should be sound asleep in the room next to his.
He's only seen dead people in these nightmares so surely that means that.. He doesn't want to think about it. He sobs quietly, taking a few minutes to ground himself.
He couldn't lose Charlie. Charlie couldn't be dead. It was just a nightmare. Charlie was fine.
Still, he needed to check.
He pulls himself out of bed, moving to Charlie's room. He knocks on the door and waits. "Charlie?" He asks, making sure to be just loud enough that Charlie can hear him.
There's silence before Wilbur hears shuffling and then the door opens, revealing a tired looking Charlie. His hair is messed up and there's sleep in his half open eyes. Wilbur feels some guilt come over him, he knows he's after waking him up but he can't help but feel mostly relieved at the sight of him alive.
"What's up, Wil?" Charlie asks, words slightly slurring together.
"Nightmare," Wilbur responds honestly. He cringes a bit at how rough his voice sounds from crying and disuse.
Charlie frowns, face morphing into one of understanding. "C'mere," he mutters, grabbing his wrist and dragging him into his room. He carefully pushes him down to the bed before joining him, pulling the covers over the both of them.
Wilbur let's him, quite content to just lay with Charlie. "Do you wanna talk about it?" Charlie asks, laying down properly — turning on his side so they're face to face.
Wilbur is silent for a second. Does he want to talk about it? Will it freak Charlie out, knowing he died in his nightmare? Wilbur brushes those thoughts away. Charlie will understand.
"Y'know, my usual dreams about Tommy?" He asks. Once he earns a nod from Charlie, he continues. "It was one of them but instead of Tommy, it was.. you."
Charlie takes a second to take in his words. Wilbur waits in silence, watching Charlie's thought process.
Eventually, Charlie speaks up. "Well, luckily for you, I'm not dying any time soon," he responds in a quiet tone, giving Wilbur a small yet reassuring smile.
Wilbur nods a bit, letting the rest of his worry ease up. "Luckily for me," he agrees, a small smile making it's way across his features.
"Glad you agree," he murmurs, closing his eyes, moving to lay closer. "I'm going back to sleep, Wil, feel free to stay and make sure I don't die like some guardian angel."
Wilbur chuckles quietly but nods nonetheless, having no plans to leave if Charlie doesn't want him to. "Alright, sleep then," he replies, letting himself lay down and close his eyes.
The two of them lay there together, safe in each others arms. It's peaceful and calm and fills Wilbur with a sense of serenity.
It's not long before he starts to feel himself slowly drifting asleep. He doesn't fight off sleep like he normally would after a nightmare. Instead, he embraces sleep and let's it happen.
He falls asleep, safe in Charlie's arms. He doesn't wake up with anymore nightmares that night.