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The bright red number stares up at Wilbur, focusing and unfocusing as tears blur his eyes. You fucking disappointment. Isn’t this supposed to be your best subject? He quickly flips the exam paper upside down, blinking away the blurring in his eyes as his classmates jump up around him, sharing their scores excitedly in an increasing buzz of voices. Wilbur forces himself to not think about his own score as he slings his bag over his shoulder, glad for the class being over.
He spends the rest of the day in a haze, trying not to think about the worst exam score he’d ever achieved. He doesn’t talk to anyone, and, more importantly, finds himself unable to look anyone in the eye; he has no social interactions beyond a half smile at someone in literature for the rest of the day. A few tears fall at one point, but he rubs at his eyes quickly before anyone notices, refusing to cry over something so minute. He’s thankful Phil’s working late today; he isn’t sure he can handle his father asking him questions about school at the moment. He isn’t sure if he’s relieved or disappointed that it’s Friday.
Everything had built up this week; people were assholes, avoided him, or both in preparation for exam results, meaning he hadn’t had as many interactions with people as normal. To add onto it, he was stressed, too, knowing that no matter what he did now, his fate (and grades) were sealed. He’d even had his hopes up for geography, but he’d done better in maths than his best subject. Worst of all, he had to face the week all alone – Techno was off sick… though maybe that was a good thing, considering geography.
What a great fucking ending to a shit week.
He walks home with headphones in and doesn’t take them out once he’s home either, instead going straight up to his room and doing some work. By the time dinner rolls around, he’s in a significantly better mood. He still feels fragile, for lack of a better word, but hopes things will turn for the better – especially since Phil made his favorite food. He helps lay the table and drags Tommy down, and soon enough they’re talking, making jokes, and having a good time as usual.
Wilbur’s almost fully forgotten about the failed geography exam until Phil asks, “So, how was your day, boys?”
Tommy goes first, talking excitedly about an adventure he’d dragged Tubbo into and how he’d “cheered up” an experiment with Ranboo in physics. Techno goes next, not saying much besides talking about his literature essay and spending the day in bed, and soon enough, all eyes turn to Wilbur.
“Wil? How was your day?”
He tries to ignore the way his heart drops. “Uh, alright I guess.” He shrugs. “Pretty boring. Same old, usual classes.” He adds, hoping it sounds convincing – he needs it, with how he refuses to look anyone in the eye. “How was your day, Dad?”
“My day was alright – a lot of work, but I love it. It’s so nice to work in this new office, you know? So many people, but my own space… I can choose whether or not to socialize.”
After a moment, Tommy speaks. “Say, Wilbur. Weren’t you getting your geography exam back today?” Wilbur has never been more grateful for Techno being off sick from classes – it lets him lie.
“Nah. Ms. Peterson said she wasn’t done marking them yet.” He says, eating a mouthful of pasta.
Tommy seems to be in a chaotic mood, as he grins and announces loudly: “I bet you’re lying. I bet you’ve failed.” He tilts his head, watching Wilbur intently. “Or am I wrong?”
“Tommy,” Phil warns, but the damage is done.
The air drains out of the room. Tommy’s casual mocking had been close to home, killing his decent mood instantly. Wilbur swallows his food heavily, almost choking as his stomach turns. Tommy says something else, but the knot in Wilbur’s throat takes priority and his words don't register.
He chokes on his words, half standing already as he spits out an obvious lie. “Dad? I’m not really hungry, can I be excused?” (He’s actually starving, but he’d rather not eat than stay here any longer.)
Phil raises an eyebrow. “Of course. I’ll leave your leftovers in the fridge.”
“Thanks.” His voice cracks and he stands and walks upstairs wordlessly, feeling like he’s underwater. He stumbles multiple times on the steps from the tears on his eyelashes, but ignores it, trying to force himself to breathe. He knows everyone’s eyes are on him, and he can hear Techno say something in a sharp voice distantly, and Wilbur swears he hears the word failure. He can’t understand the rest and doesn’t want to, instead shutting the door to his room behind him, dropping onto his bed and turning to his side, back facing the door.
This is it, he realizes. Oh, God. They know. Fuck, they know. Of course they know, you idiot, maybe you should’ve tried harder to hide it. Shit, I’ve disappointed Tommy and Techno both – I’m not smart enough to be their brother. I’ve failed them. They deserve better than me.
A single tear makes its way down his face at all the wrong angles, falling onto the bridge of his nose and onto the sheets below. He gasps for air, trying to force away the tears and curling into an even tighter ball.
Dad… oh no. Dad. He’s going to hate me. He probably already does, with what a fuck-up I am. He’ll kick me out after I’ve done my crying. I don’t deserve to have the life I live here if I can’t show that I’m good enough to live in it. What if he comes up now? Has me cry as I pack my bags and leave, already finding somewhere new to stay for the night? Where could I stay? Oh God I can hear him coming up the stairs, he's gonna hate me forever, he’s gonna kick me out, he’s gonna-
A knock. “Wilbur?”
Wilbur inhales shakily - he doesn’t expect to hear Tommy on the other side. He wants to say “come in,” but nothing comes out when he opens his mouth, and so he resorts to silence. He wants to be alone… that's not true. He wants someone to be here with him, to comfort him, but he doesn’t want pity.
After a moment, he hears Tommy’s voice again. “Wilbur? Can I come in?” Wilbur nods, rubbing at his eyes to hide the tears even though he can’t be seen, but finds himself unable to do much else, especially speak. After a moment of silence, the younger adds, “I’m coming in.”
Wilbur hears the door open and shut behind him, and for a split second he thinks that Tommy saw him curled on his bed and left (he doesn’t know if that’s better or worse), but then he feels the bed dip behind him and hears a soft “Hey.”
“I just want to apologize, Wil. I shouldn’t have joked about you failing – it was a dick move. You’re one of the smartest people I know, and I know how much your education means to you. So, I’m sorry. I’ll try harder in the future, I promise.” He doesn’t say anything, hoping that Tommy will leave him alone. Not that he isn’t grateful for the apology; he just isn’t sure he wants to socialize right now.
After a moment, he adds, “I brought some water.”
Wilbur turns his head at that and sits up slowly, sitting next to Tommy on the edge of the bed. Tommy gives him the cup and he drinks the entirety of it in seconds; hoping it’ll help him get away from being on the verge of tears. It helps a little bit, and he puts the cup on the floor beside him.
Tommy leans against his shoulder gently. “You okay?”
Wilbur manages a half-smile which he hopes is a lot more convincing than it feels. “I’m fine.”
They stay like that, neither of them saying a word for minutes. Outside, the sun begins to set, but Wilbur barely notices; he’s staring at his hands, thinking. About how he could have studied more, about how it’s gonna be his fault that he won’t get into university, about how he deserves the pain he’s getting.
Then, he speaks up, surprised at how flat his voice is.
“You were right, by the way.”
Tommy jumps – he’d probably spaced out. “About what?” He sounds exhausted. He’s probably got better things to do than sit and listen to his older brother complain, but it’s too late to turn back now. So he takes a deep breath, and continues.
“I failed.” Tommy’s eyebrows fly up so high that Wilbur is surprised they stay on his forehead.
“Yes, that’s right. Your older brother, the genius, failed his fucking geography exam. Shocker, I know. Best subject and all that.” He stands up, starting to pace in an attempt to let out his anger toward himself through movement. “But I did. I fucked it. I fucked it so badly, Tommy, that I’ll probably fail geography this year.” He’s getting louder and louder, and isn’t surprised if Phil and Techno can hear him by now. “And if I fail my best subject, what will happen to the rest? I’ll fail all of them, I won’t get into any university, and Sweet Old Wilbur Soot, Destined For A Great Future, will be left to live and die alone, unloved, because it seems that he’s been faking his entire education!”
Wilbur stops and reaches up, running a hand through his hair and tugging at it sharply, doubling over slightly. “Look at me fucking go. I’m a goddamn failure.” He yanks his hair forward harshly. “Growing up is bullshit… it just gets worse and worse and there’s nothing to do about the curse of reality… I don’t know how Dad does it. I’m not built to handle this; I’m supposed to be a caring older brother, taking on your suffering, not the one cracking after something so small!”
He turns back to Tommy, who’s sitting on his bed, gaping at him. At least it looks like he is - Wilbur can’t tell with the tears in his eyes, which morph his brother’s face into a blur like those new weird TikTok filters he sees his friends use. He can’t imagine how he looks, which must be pretty shit based on how he feels.
He’s never had an outburst this bad and never in front of people – especially not in front of Tommy. His bottom lip is trembling and he’s breathing heavily, and he can’t imagine what the younger thinks of him – a shattered image of a perfect sibling. He lifts his hands in front of his face; they’re trembling. A single tear falls down his cheek.
“Holy fuck, I’m pathetic.” He whispers, voice cracking.
His legs give out.
Tommy catches him halfway to the floor, wrapping his arm around the older and bringing them both to their knees smoothly. He uses his spare hand to pull Wilbur’s hand out of its death grip around his own hair as carefully as possible to not cause the other any more pain. When he speaks, his voice is even more gentle than his actions. “It’s okay, Wil. I’m here. Breathe.”
Wilbur gasps for air, choking a few times through his tears as Tommy rocks him back and forth, pulling him through his loud sobs. The knot in his throat makes it harder to breathe, spreading down his chest and across every inch of his body. He thinks Tommy can tell based on the way he massages his back, trying to loosen the knots to get him to breathe. It helps, even just in the slightest.
By now, he’s crying so hard that he can barely breathe. He coughs harshly, feeling Tommy tense up and pull away slightly. He leans after him, mind blinded by pure panic as he clings to the other desperately. He can’t be alone now, more than ever. If Tommy leaves now, he’s not sure he’ll live. He tries to voice that, but all that comes out is a choked out “stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Wil. Just… there!” He just reaches the bottle of water on Wilbur’s nightstand, passing it to him. Wilbur just shakes his head, tears streaming down his face steadily. Tommy nods, dropping the bottle beside them and pulling Wilbur back into a hug. Only when Tommy pulls him back in does he realize how much he missed being hugged – with their conflicting schedules, he’d barely had time to be around any of his family for the past week, and with his self-isolation mission today, he really needed to be around others. Especially Tommy.
His sobs get louder and higher pitched, but Tommy doesn’t move an inch, instead leaning closer as Wilbur hides his head in his shoulder. He starts humming something softly, brushing his hand through the older’s hair. Wilbur doesn’t know what it is, but he’s immediately reminded of how he would comfort Tommy when the other woke up with nightmares. Tommy isn’t supposed to be the one comforting him, he tells himself.
“I’m sorry.” The soft whisper comes out muffled with his face buried in Tommy’s shoulder, but the crack in his voice is still audible.
Tommy stops humming momentarily and Wilbur misses the sound immediately. “Don’t be sorry for anything. I can’t imagine how shit your day must have been. I should be the one apologizing.”
“Shit week, actually.” Wilbur lets out a half-laugh at his own comment, mostly out of bitterness, before pulling away, keeping his head down and sniffling. “I forgive you, but you shouldn’t need to comfort me. It’s stupid. I’m being a burden.” His eyes land on the stain he left on Tommy’s shirt, eyes widening as he speaks. “Fuck, Tommy, I’m sorry. This is your favourite shirt. I promise I’ll clean it.” His shoulders drop. “Oh God, I’m such a shit brother.”
“That’s bullshit.” He looks up at Tommy, glassy brown eyes meeting vibrant blue. “Screw the fucking exam. Your self-worth is defined by so much more than numbers on a piece of paper. I’m so proud of everything you’ve achieved, and so are Dad and Techno. I know that for a fact. None of us hate you. You’ll get into the university because out of every person I’ve ever met, you deserve it most. You’re the coolest, funniest, smartest person I’ve ever met. You’re caring and you always manage to make people laugh, no matter how they’re feeling. You’re the best brother I could have wished for, but sometimes you need comfort too, and that’s normal. That’s what family is for. ”
Wilbur looks up at him through tears. “When’d you get so good at this?”
Tommy smiles softly. “I learned from the best.”
He pulls Wilbur back against him, and Wilbur goes willingly, feeling the knot in his throat lessen the slightest bit. Progress, he tells himself. Tears continue to fall rom his eyes, and he chokes on a particularly painful sob, at which point Tommy pulls away to give him water. This time he drinks willingly, gulping down water and loosening the tightness in his throat even more.
Once Wilbur’s done, Tommy takes the bottle, puts the lid on it, and tosses it aside. Both of them flinch at the sound of metal hitting the floor. Tommy continues to hum softly, letting Wilbur cry freely, which he does, sobbing until his throat is so raw that it hurts more than the pain of failing, and then crying some more. His entire body shakes and he curls into Tommy’s lap, shrinking in on himself, never feeling this small before. The other holds him in place the entire time, not leaving for a split second.
At some point they move to lay down on Wilbur’s bed, with Tommy wrapping his arms around Wilbur and pulling him to lay his head on Tommy’s heart. He covers them both with Wilbur’s duvet and doesn’t stop humming for a split second. It’s dark outside, and Wilbur isn’t sure how long he’s been crying for, but he finds he doesn’t care.
“Thank you,” he mumbles, throat raw – he finds he doesn’t give a shit about that either, as long as he can stay like this, curled into his little brother’s side, finally letting out the stress of the past week.
Tommy places a kiss to his forehead. “Anytime, Wilbur. It’s what brothers are for.” Wilbur smiles slightly at the way Tommy’s words slur with exhaustion.
They fall asleep curled into each other, and Wilbur has never felt more at home.