Work Text:
Wilbur sat in his foster caregivers car, his head leaned on the windows with his ear buds in. Watching raindrops race eachother down the windows.
He already wanted to go back. Back to his family-no. He doesn't want to go back. Techno liked Tommy more. Philza didn't trust him or love him anymore.
Tommy wanted him gone. Techno wanted him gone. Philza wanted him gone. None of them wanted him from the start. Maybe Tommy's simply a better brother and son to Tech and Phil. Maybe Wilbur just wasn't good enough.
Looking down at the injuries, scabs, and scars on his arm after rolling down his sleeve. Keeping his arm out of view of the caregiver. Not like they would care. He was just another way to make money.
Maybe that's why Philza adopted him. For the foster money. Maybe it was to save up money for Tommy. Tommy. Tommy. It's always Tommy. "I'm busy with Tommy, sorry Wil." "Tommy's sleeping, quiet down Wilbur." "I love you T-Wilbur!" "Stop whining Wil, Tommy needs it more then you." Tommy was everything. Wilbur wasn't.
He was utterly useless. He was nothing At all. Maybe it would be better if he didn't exist-if Techno wasn't related to whatever mistake Wilbur was-if Philza just left him and adopted Tommy first.
Wilbur could feel his breathing pick up, tapping his arm repeatedly to calm down. It was a habit he picked up after his first few homes. And it got more frequent after Tommy.
Wilbur looked at the road. They were almost back at the orphanage. Almost back to the place he's been forced back to too many times. It was yet another day now. No one would want him. He was almost sixteen, just the rest of the year left. Yet he was already kicked out of his sixteenth home now.
Maybe it was better this way. He was Wilbur Soot again. They were the Crafts. Maybe it was good they were different, that meant they didn't have to be associated with him again. I mean, who would want to be?
No one.
Not even him.
Maybe it was just his life. Maybe it was for a reason.