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Wilbur stood in front of a pile of tnt. Said pile was large, he stood back from it…
But he needed to ignite it.
He had to get closer, he didn’t have any red stone on him.
There was a cave quite close by, but…
Some part of him wanted to get closer.
He looked down, his large steel toed boots already making their way closer to the pile. He pulled out a flint and steel, he ignited it and let the tail of the tnt go aflame.
He stepped back.
He knew exactly how far he needed to go to get out of the blast radius, but…
Who would care?
He deserves to be in hell anyway, maybe… Maybe he’ll let life take its course…
He stepped back.
Six steps and he’s be safe. But he doesn’t want to be safe right now… He wants this.
He stepped back.
But what would Tommy think? Or Phil? Or Dream? He needed to survive, for them…
He stepped back.
He has to live, he has to fight. He’s been forgotten too many times…
He stepped back.
But what does he want? Not to be here, that’s for sure…
He stays put.
His ears pop as the tnt explodes, the heat hits him like a truck, slamming into him without a second to spare.
He falls backwards, his face burns. The frayed ands of his trench coat catch ablaze, he has changed his mind. He doesn’t want this. He throws off the coat and watches it fall to the wet grass, it chars black as it slowly disappears. The left sleeve of his sweater quickly started to burn, he tried to get it off, eventually just having to tear the sweater off just as he did with his coat. The skin on his arm bubbles up from the fire on his sleeve, it turns dark as coal, but it doesn’t hurt. He can’t feel his upper arm and shoulder. He can’t fucking feel his arm.
Wilbur shakily pushes himself back up, he needs help.
Who does he go to?
Who’s close?
Who’d help?
There’s really only one person even partially close, and that’s… Quackity.
But would Quackity help?
Him and Quackity have an… odd relationship. Wilbur was definitely NOT obsessed with the duck hybrid, not at all! And he doesn’t really know exactly how Quackity feels about him… But-
He needs help, and Quackity is his best bet.
Wilbur runs as fast as he can, he must look fucking pathetic.
He always looked pathetic.
He hid crooked posture with a crooked smile, a thin wiry frame with puffy sweaters, and boxy coats. Desperation hid behind the mania in his eyes. He’d hold a weapon and want to loosen his grip.
He continues to run, soon he’s in the fraud desert of Las Nevadas. He sees the sign, just a bit closer and Quackity would find him. A couple more steps-
But his last bit of energy and adrenaline only got him so far.
He fell into the sands with a bwoomf, he thinks it’s over. He thinks he’s done for. But he hears one last thing before his eyes close.
“WILBUR!?”
/=——————.* _+_ *.——————=\
When Wilbur opened his eyes, he was not buried in the sand of Las Nevada’s, or lying on the concrete ground of his Jubilee line, but he was on a bed, a soft bed, a bed more comfortable than he’d been on in a long, long time. When he looked around, he realized that he couldn’t see out of his left eye. This scared him for a second, but he soon observed that bandages were covering almost the entire left side of his body. He looked at his right arm, an IV was stuck in his wrist it was cold. He was cold. He looked down seeing that his upper body was not covered in a blanket, presumably due to the bandages. But he could feel soft, sweatpants, and socks on his lower, that was covered in a blanket. He looked up around the room and saw… Quackity.
His wings were ruffled, and his hair was messy; Much different from his usual, completely put together fashion sense. He was hunched over, sleeping with his head on a desk.
Wilbur stayed silent, Quackity must have brought him here. Why would he have given this to Wilbur? Such a nice bed, and all the healing he needed? Quackity hated him, he’d never do this. He just watched Quackity, what would happen when he woke up? Would Wilbur be kicked out? Had he already, unknowingly over stayed his welcome? He really hoped not.
He eyed Quackity carefully, after what felt like hours, he saw Quackity’s eyes flutter open. Quackity stretched his wings, and the rest of his body before turning and locking eyes with Wilbur. The two rivals just stared at each other for a long moment. Quackity got up and walked over to Wilbur’s bedside, he moved a lock of brown hair from the tallers face, his brows furrowed with worry.
“Wilbur? What happened?” He asked, and it felt genuine, too genuine. It was also slightly.. muffled.
And… Wilbur didn’t know how to react to this. He just stared up at Quackity with now wet eyes. The shorter frowned and put his hand in Wilbur’s hair, carding his fingers through the locks. Wilbur couldn’t help but push his head farther into Q’s hand. Quackity just continued, eventually grabbing Wilbur’s right hand with his own.
Wilbur wants to cry.
”Can I… Can I stay? Please?” He asks pleadingly, tightening his grip on Quackity’s hand tighter.
“Of course, Wil…” Quackity replied, rubbing circles into Wilbur’s hand with his thumb. “Of course…”