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“I’m living the dream,
It’s just one of those dreams where you’re losing all your teeth”
Tommy sat eagerly beside Wilbur on the piano bench as he watched his brother’s fingers dance over the piano keys. Wilbur sang softly, quietly and slowly, as if almost a lullaby version of Soft Boy. The voice lured Tommy like a siren, as he laid his golden head on the brunet’s shoulder.
For Tommy, Wilbur’s voice was one of the many things that made the man so easy to cuddle. Wilbur just gave the overall energy of someone who was just safe. His tall height was enough to protect Tommy from anything, his neck long enough for Tommy to fit his head in like a burrow, and his strong heartbeat always felt like it beat for Tommy and only for Tommy.
Wilbur’s fashion sense felt cozy too. Round glasses gave the impression of someone kind, loving. His jumpers were so unique that Tommy only associated them with Wilbur (not to mention, they were oh so soft when Tommy would plant his face right in.) Wilbur always seemed wise and smart, and Tommy knew if he ever got into a bad situation Wilbur would know exactly how to pull him out.
But none of those little details compared to Wilbur’s voice. Saccharine honey that just calmed Tommy’s nerves every time he was nervous, contrasting with the loud, vibrant laugh that would escape from him when Tommy made a witty joke.
And then there’s Wilbur’s “Tommy voice.” The voice preserved only for Tommy. It was like a gentle croon, speaking tone soft with a slight hint of his singing voice. Like Wilbur knew the right combination to speak to Tommy with. Like he knew that saying the name “Tommy,” with that exact inflection and tone could pull Tommy’s heartstrings just right.
Soulmates. They were soulmates and Tommy knew it was so.
As Wilbur began humming Tommy naturally started melting to his side, humming along. He felt a light kiss pressed at his curls, eyes fluttering shut in peace. He feels loved, comfortable, safe, and warm. He would give up anything just to hear Wilbur sing for the rest of his life. To hear his voice speak to him and call sweet pet names. He thinks of all their fans who wish they could at least meet Wilbur Soot one day because he seems like such a cool person, and Tommy finds pride in the fact that Wilbur is his, and he is Wilbur’s.
“I’m looking for a window to another world
Where I don’t feel as lost and bored
I just don’t wanna be a soft boy anymore
I wanna be yours”
“Me too.” The words slip out of Tommy’s mouth. “I wanna be yours.”
Wilbur smiles fondly, lifting up a hand to card through Tommy’s curls. “You are. You are mine. I just hope I could be yours.”
“You are.” Tommy starts purring under Wilbur’s fingers running through his hair. “You’ll always be mine. You’ll never have to feel lost again.”
“Toms, I- are you sure? I don’t know, I just- I can’t help but think I drag you sometimes. I mean, you’re this amazing kid with a bright mind, and you’re tying your soul to a twenty-four-year-old still recovering from depression.”
“Wilbur..” Tommy starts, burying his face impossibly closer. “You’re nothing like that.”
“I am. Tommy, if I taint your sunlight I shouldn’t-”
“Shouldn’t what, Wil? Shouldn’t love me?”
Tommy finds that to be a genuine question.
Wilbur’s breath hitches, like he knows he just messed up.
“No, sunshine, I love you. I love you so much. But that's why I sometimes wonder if I’m too close to you. I don’t wanna dim the sun with my darkness.”
“The darkness is often comforting, Wilbur. Like the night. You can’t live in the sun all day, otherwise, you’d never get sleep.” He snuggles further, practically laying on top of Wilbur. “That’s what you are to me. The starlight and the moon, the nighttime with the sound of crickets and owls singing. You help me sleep.”
“Tom- do you- really mean that?”
“Mhmm. Wilbur, I’ve never felt truly this safe with a person before, until I met you. You comfort in ways my mother, father, and friends never have before. It’s just- I guess it’s a brother thing if you ask me.”
Wilbur laughs softly, shifting to press a warm, firm kiss to Tommy’s forehead. Tommy leans into the featherly light touch, sighing with the fulfilling feeling of being loved.
Wilbur buries his nose in Tommy’s hair, and Tommy can feel him breathing in and out.
“Sunshine, summer, cotton, and grass…” Wilbur lists drowsily, falling asleep. “Never ever let this cuddle pass.”
Tommy wraps his arms around Wilbur’s torso, letting him melt into his brother once more.
“Moonlight, winter, wood, and trees…” Tommy hums happily. “Shield me with your leaves, please.”
“Should a poem be in the quotebook, love?”
Tommy raises a hand to Wilbur’s hair, playing with the silky curls.
“I think people will be confused,” he laughs quietly.
“That’s for them to deal.” Wilbur takes a curl around his fingers and twirls it a bit, tugs it, then lets go. “I think what you said there was very lovely, Toms.”
“What you said was sappy. That’s why it doesn’t deserve to be in the quotebook.”
“Come onnnn I love cuddling with you, Tommy. How could I not say that?”
“Wilbur, Wilbur, Wilby, Wil, your softness makes me very ill.”
“Tommy, Tommy, Toms, and love, I love you more than all of Hove.”
Tommy’s face grows red, and he attempts to formulate a spiteful response, but fails once Wilbur starts humming again.
“Wil, oh Wil, oh brother Wil, your voice is like the sea it fills.”
“Toms, oh Toms, oh brother Toms, your laugh is bright like yellow mums.”
“Chrysanthemums?” Tommy makes a questioning sound.
“Yeah, do you not like it?”
“Chrysanthemums mean death in France,” Tommy’s hand wanders until it finds Wilbur’s hands. His fingers slip in-between Wilbur’s, fitting just perfectly. “I don’t wanna think about that.”
“Chrysanthemums also mean friendship and happiness, and everytime I see one I can’t help but think of you.”
“Fly you,” Tommy huffs. “You’ve got big brother bird brain or something. Stars, Wilbur, does everything make you think of me?”
“Pretty much.” Wilbur makes a “mlep!” noise.
“Stars above, Wil you annoy me so, I don’t know how this friendship will go.”
“Stars above, Toms you endear me so, can my heart take it or no?”
“Your heart will explode one day, literally,” Tommy says blatantly. “You love me too much.”
“It’s true, I do.”
“No, I’m serious, Wil. Like once I read this stupid internet article that says it’s actually possible to die out of cuteness. And I read that right after you nearly had a heart attack just because I called you ‘Wilby’ for the hundredth time that day.”
“But it’s not fairrrrr,” Wilbur whines. “You are cute.”
“I’m flying not.”
“Of course you are. I’m serious, Toms. I can feel my heart squeezing every time you act so sweet.”
“You have a problem. Go see a doctor.”
“I’m fine, I promise.”
“No, you’re not fine.” Tommy lifts his head up to look Wilbur in the eye. “I can’t have my brother dying in front of me because his heart flying exploded from seeing me wearing his sweaters.”
“That only happened once.”
“But once is enough to kill you.”
“Shh shh shh shh shhh.” Wilbur presses a kiss to Tommy’s nose, silencing the banter into mist. “Little bird, put aside all words for now. Let’s just cuddle until the sun goes down.”
Awful, Tommy’s head says fondly. Wilbur Soot, you really are just awful.
….but I still love you, and now I shall nuzzle.