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Wilbur, unsurprisingly, hadn’t gotten much sleep. He had been studying for an important test all night and hadn’t gone to bed until almost two in the morning.
Now, it was a little bit after five and he was making his way down to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee.
As he headed towards the stairs, he spotted an open door in the corner of his eye and stopped.
It was Tommy’s door.
“What is he doing up this early?” He asked himself as he took a quick glance around the younger’s bedroom and finally made his way downstairs once he deemed it Tommy-free.
The living room was always chilly in the mornings (thanks to the beautiful hardwood floors) and Wilbur wasn’t surprised to see goosebumps on his arms as soon as he stepped off the stairs and into the living room.
The living room was the same it always was in the mornings. There were pillows and part of Tommy’s plush collection (which had been sitting nicely on some shelves by the fireplace) scattered all over the floor from the previous night’s pillow fight. The windows were lightly frosted and the fireplace was filled with ash from last night’s use.
Dad must’ve gone to bed late too . Wilbur thought, smiling fondly as he made his way into the kitchen.
Unlike the living room, the kitchen was clean and organized. Since Tommy wasn’t in the house, Wilbur knew exactly where to find him.
With a bowl of strawberries, a glass of lemonade, and his guitar strapped over his back, Wilbur made his way outside and over to Tommy’s treehouse.
The morning’s soft, golden light shone against the tree and across the body of a sleeping raccoon.
Wilbur carefully made his way up the treehouse and sat down beside the familiar raccoon.
Soon after Wilbur’s arrival, the raccoon had woken up. Stretching its limbs and yawning before looking up at Wilbur.
Without a second thought, the raccoon grabbed a few strawberries and shoved them into its mouth before grabbing a few more.
“Okay, okay. Calm down. Don’t eat so many at once.” Wilbur said as he moved the bowl of strawberries out of the raccoon’s reach.
The raccoon glared up at Wilbur before backing away and eating the strawberries it had taken.
“What happened, Tommy?” Wilbur broke the silence a few minutes later.
With a swoosh of wind, the raccoon was now a young boy. More commonly known as Wilbur’s younger brother Tommy.
Tommy sighed and brought his legs up to his chest. “I’m just—I don’t know. Being dumb, I guess.” Wilbur gave him a do-you-really-think-I’ll-believe-that kind of look and Tommy sighed again.
“I’m just worried that no one’s gonna like me.” Tommy blurted. “Hybrids are rare and I don’t want people to hate me just because I’m an animal.”
Wilbur handed the glass of lemonade to Tommy. “You don’t have to worry about that, Tommy. Even if they don’t like you, we will still love you. And if they bother you because of who you are then I’ll beat them up.”
Tommy smiled and nodded, quickly finishing the lemonade before leaning his head on Wilbur’s shoulder. “Thanks, Wil.”
A strum of Wilbur’s guitar was what Tommy got in response and he felt himself slowly falling asleep.
Wilbur played Tommy’s favorite song, words flowed out from his mouth and a melody filled the air as he comforted Tommy. “We’ll love you no matter what, Toms. Never forget that.”