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wilbur didn't know how to not act the way he did. he didn't know how to let people in and keep them there, he only knew how to scream and fight and isolate himself.
he only knew to push people away, to shove them off a cliff and walk away and let them suffer away from him.
it's better that way, wasn't it?
he didn't know how to feel, he didn't know how to control what he felt either.
“Joe, listen to me, please-” he began, a begging in his tone.
joe scoffs, rolling his eyes as he folds his arms over his chest, “I've listened plenty, Wil. this isn't going to work, you can't just push me away!”
it was wilbur's turn to scoff.
“i'm just living up to my potential, I'm letting you loose from my bullshit,” he stepped back, looking away and out the window.
“what bullshit? being hurt?” joe looks over wilbur, watching his body slump with the way he leans against the wall. looking so small and hurt, like a lost puppy. if wilbur knew he looked this way, he'd probably walk out. he hated being vulnerable.
“I'm not hurt, Joe. you don't listen, I am this way because that's how I am,” joe narrowed his eyes, not wanting to fight any longer but knowing thats what wilbur wanted. he wants a fight just so he can give joe another list of reasons to leave him.
he doesn't know how to not hurt him, and he just wants it to stop.
“I do listen, I just choose not to believe your thoughts, because they're not true,”
“bullshit,”
wilbur's eyes roll, and he turns away, walking to the kitchen of his flat and mindlessly grabbing crackers. he feels like vomiting, and while he wouldn't mind throwing up until he passes out (at least his mind would be quiet then), he can't get away with it when his best friend's eyes are watching his every move.
“they're not true, wilbur,” joe mumbles, leaning his shorter frame against the doorway, arms over his chest like they usually are when wilbur does this whole spiel.
“they are, you just live in rose colored glasses,” his voice is filled with venom, he wants it to hurt. maybe he'll be left alone then, if Joe walks out.
joe narrows his eyes again, standing taller against the doorway, doing his best to stand his ground, “rose colored glasses or not, I know what you're telling yourself isn't true.”
wilbur shrugs him off, pushing past joe into the living room.
“listen to me, wilbur,”
wilbur shrugs, nibbling on his crackers, just waiting for joe to get fed up and walk away. he can't bring himself to tell him to fuck off himself, so he just hopes he'll do it himself. joe sits across from him, resting his leg over the other as he gently watches wilbur eat his crackers.
joe chooses the silent route, staying in the chair as evidence that he isn't leaving any time soon. his eyes glance up at the lily flowers on the table, in an old vase he found at an antique shop. he was never the one to know of the meaning of flowers, but he liked to think that they were a peace offering.
they usually were.
when wilbur was overrun with guilt; oftentimes after a fight he started, he'd pick some lily flowers up and put them in Joe's favorite vase. an easier way to apologize for his existence, yet joe saw it as an ‘i'm sorry for pushing you closer to the door of my life'. either way, it was a peace offering, a silent apology from them both.
the current bouquet was wilting, the stems beginning to grow mold as they wither with age. the vase was a way for joe to know how long it'd be before wilburs next break. the flowers were always dying by the time wilbur had another episode. it was merely bound to happen.
“wilbur-” joe began, but then got cut short when wilbur lifted his gaze and began speaking.
“you should leave. you need to go and find someone else, it's safer that way,” wilbur's tone was dead, monotoned and without any emotion that usually found its way to his voice.
“I've told you already, no. I am not leaving,”
“you should,”
the room goes silent again, the crinkling of the cracker package being the only sound in the room. joe shuffles his feet below him, staring blankly at the floorboards before he's pulled from the silence.
“I want to die,” wilbur mumbles, the crinkling plastic being discarded on the coffee table, a lily petal falling from the withered flowers. wilbur watches as it cascades down through the air, swinging back and forth as it continues its downward spiral before gently laying to rest on the wood of the table.
the more petals that fall, the closer joe is to walking out.
when it clicks in Joe's mind what wilbur just uttered to him, he takes a moment to let it repeat it in his head, “no you don't,” it's more of an affirmation to joe more than its a response to wil.
“I do, I want to die. I don't want to wake up and I want you to leave me so you can be angry at me rather than mourn me, it's easier that way,” wilbur takes a shakey breath, burning tears building within his eyes.
“if you leave now. with anger in your heart, then it can't break when I inevitably leave the earth,”
joe feels his heart splitting apart at wilbur's confession, anger bubbling up at the mere idea of losing him, of having to leave.
“I'm not leaving and you're not dying,”
“i can't live like this anymore,” wilbur pauses, and Joe watches, letting him take the moment to speak. he's so tired of speaking, of fighting of arguing and begging wilbur to let him stay.
“I can't live knowing that no matter what I do, I live to hurt the only person that cares anymore. the only person who speaks to me, the only one that knows when somethings wrong,” wilbur wipes the hot tears from his eyes, sniffling as he stares at the floor; a staring contest he's bound to lose, “I need you to hate me, so I can wither and not worry of hurting you any longer.”
“i-”
“joe, I beg,”
joe draws his lips in a thin line, tears of his own building as he looks away, “you need sleep,”
“I need to not breathe,” wilbur presses his hand against his heart, eyes wide in a sort of manic beg to joe. a plea of ‘let me go, let me go, let me go, be free’.
“and I need you,” joe counters, leaning forward, looking over the withering flowers, more petals falling with every second that passes.
“you need the idea of me, no one ever needs someone for long,” wilbur shuts his eyes, shaking his head as he breathes; shallow and shaky.
joe finds himself falling to silence, wanting this night to end, for the day to reset and watch his friend's face light up in a smile.
“you don't need me,” wilbur pauses again, silence falling over them both again, like clockwork, “but i need you to let me go,”
“I can't do that,” joe shakes his head, tears falling over his waterline and onto his cheeks.
“your problem then,” and like that, wilbur leaves the apartment, leaving behind his person, the one that fought for him. discarded like nothing.
joe stays in that silence, staring at the ceiling as wilbur runs to who knows where.
the last petal falls, and maybe it'll be the last petal he'll ever see find it's end.