Chapter Text
FRIENDS
> #general
Fundy: is anyone else doing muffins for home econs cooking right now
Eret: I am
Fundy: oh thank fuck
do you have the recipe?
i kinda forgot to charge my laptop and i don’t have it on my phone
Eret: Errrr yeah I should have it
Gotta dig it out though
Fundy: ok pls hurry
i’m in the middle of the practical assessment
i’m just standing around hoping the teacher doesn’t see me wasting time because i don’t have the recipe
jackmanifold: fundy cooking?
we already had one fire this year bro chill
Fundy: ay FUCK YOU JACK
WilburSoot: lmao
imagine being shit at home econs
it’s literally free marks
BIG TOMMY: NO IT’S NOT
I CANT SEW
WilburSoot: skill issue
BIG TOMMY: AND DONT SAY SKILL ISSUE
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
jackmanifold: LOL
niki: fundy preheat the oven first! then prepare the batter in a big bowl and make sure to whisk it
Fundy: niki???
how do you remember???
niki: i like baking so it’s pretty instinctual for me! :D
have you got the oven preheated?
Fundy: no i just checked and i thought it was heating but the switch wasn’t even on
Slimecicle: :skull:
Fundy: stfu charlie
better than the time u were trying to find a ladle and pulled out the entire cutlery drawer from the cupboard
Slimecicle: WE DO NOT TALK ABOUT THAT
Fundy: i just did mfker
what u gonna do?
Slimecicle: watch me
i’ll get soil from the garden and pour it into ur bag
Fundy: U WOULDN’T DARE
Slimecicle: what u gonna do?
niki: fundy after you have the batter you need to pour it into the cupcake sleeves! and make sure you pour an equal amount (not too much or too little)
otherwise they might overflow and spill out in the oven
Fundy: got it
the batter is flour and eggs and sugar?
niki: yeah! :>
WilburSoot: niki is so helpful
niki: thank you! ^-^
WilburSoot: everyone should learn from niki
instead of being a bunch of fucking wankers
BIG TOMMY: I AM NOT A WANKER
Fundy: ok niki thank you i think i remember how to do the rest
i love you
niki: no problem fundy!! :D
Minx: she’s too good for you furry
u didnt deserve this
Fundy: fuck you too minx
hope you trip and die
Minx: hope you burn yourself
Fundy: hope you stub ur toe
Minx: hope ur muffins come out soggy
Slimecicle: GASP
MINX HOW COULD YOU
Minx: ?? wot
Slimecicle: VIOLENCE I CAN ACCEPT
PERHAPS EVEN THREATS
BUT HIS MUFFINS COMING OUT SOGGY???
Minx: wtf
Slimecicle: you have committed a cardinal sin, madam
BIG TOMMY: I AGREE
Minx: TOMMY I WILL EAT YOUR FOCKING COOKIES
BIG TOMMY: I DISAGREE
Eret: Guys aren’t you in class?
Slimecicle: well yes but no
i have my paper open on another page if that counts
Eret: No it doesn’t
Slimecicle: .
well suck my ass
WilburSoot: i have break motherfuckers
imagine having class rn
Technoblade: what an L move
WilburSoot: exactly
techno and i are truly partners in crime
we are on the same wavelength
Technoblade: great minds think alike
BIG TOMMY: YOU’RE BOTH DUMB
Ph1LzA: Tommy, you have maths now, don’t you?
Remember how you nearly didn’t pass your quiz last week?
BIG TOMMY: BUT PHILLLLL
TECHNO AND WILBUR ARE TEXTING
Ph1LzA: They’re on their break, Tommy
You can text when you’re on yours
BIG TOMMY: >:(
FINE
WilburSoot: L
Technoblade: L
jackmanifold: truly bullying tommy
WilburSoot: a daily affair
jackmanifold: this cause seems valuable
may i join it
WilburSoot: if you can pass techno’s test
jackmanifold: what
Technoblade: ahem
what is the name of the biggest star known to man
jackmanifold: WHAT
Technoblade: time’s up
it’s stephenson 2-18
WilburSoot: it’s fucking two billion kilometres wide can you believe that
jackmanifold: .
WilburSoot: sorry jack manifold ig you’re not smart enough
jackmanifold: TO DO WHAT?
TO BULLY TOMMY???
WHY WOULD YOU NEED EVEN A DROP OF INTELLECT FOR THAT????
WilburSoot: you see
Technoblade: the best kind of bullying involves careful eloquence and purposeful insults
WilburSoot: in order to deliver as crushing of a blow as possible to the enemy’s ego
Technoblade: there must be coherence in every step you take and every move you make
WilburSoot: bullying isn’t just a hobby to us, jack manifold
Technoblade: it’s an art of war
jackmanifold: .
you know what thank fuck i didn’t know what the name of the biggest star known to man was
Slimecicle: that’s some cult shit right there
jackmanifold: EXACTLY
tubbo_: you know what wilbur and techno remind me of right now
team rocket from pokemon
Slimecicle: KEKW
WilburSoot: it’s time for trouble
Technoblade: and make it double
Slimecicle: tommy is meowth
WilburSoot: no if anything the fucking furry should be meowth
Fundy: I HAVE NOT FINISHED BAKING MY MUFFINS BUT FUCK YOU WILBUR
I DONT CARE IF THEY COME OUT BURNT
FUCK YOU
WilburSoot: no thank u fundy i like women
but if you like dressing up in an animal costume you are perfectly valid and we will all accept you with open arms
Fundy: i will remove your kneecaps
WilburSoot: haven’t people learned that my ankles are a better choice
Fundy: i’ll take great pleasure in watching you scream in pain wilbur
WilburSoot: i go with honour
my last wish is to add sadism to the list of fundy’s kinks please and thank you
jackmanifold: bro fundy can’t win
Fundy: ajk.3j0PO#!
WilburSoot: as we said
bullying isn’t just a hobby to us, jack manifold
Technoblade: it’s an art of war
jackmanifold: nah fuck that and fuck you guys i’m out
my chem lecture seems like a better choice now
--------
Wilbur tried to keep himself from yawning as he sank further into the soft couch. It wasn’t anybody’s fault that he was stuck here. To be fair, he’d arrived half an hour before his appointment and they really weren’t expected to entertain him, but Wilbur really didn’t like the idea of running home for lunch and running out again, so he’d just gone out to have a quick bite beforehand. Without Tommy trying to bother him into buying him toys and Techno lingering around every bookstore he saw, Wilbur really had no reason to stay in the shopping centre that his clinic was situated in. So he’d decided to just show up thirty minutes early like a fucking madman and just sit there, waiting.
The issue beforehand had been the possibility of looking weird as hell by coming in early, lest they take him for some sort of overly-enthusiastic person ready to start getting their life back on track with how he’d arrived in advance. But now, the new issue was not to fall asleep.
He couldn’t help it. School had worn him out so badly and the thought of having to get up early and do it all again tomorrow made his body ache. Wilbur was curled into himself in the most conveniently comfortable position and he felt like if he had to uncurl himself his whole world would end. Dimly, he thought about just giving in and taking a light snooze, but the embarrassment of needing to be shaken awake by a stranger was not something he wanted to experience.
So Wilbur continued to dangle between the two cliffs of consciousness and sleep, in that woozy headspace that so closely resembled dissociation. But it was a good kind of dissociation - the kind that reminded him of precious rest, a chance to let down his guard and refresh his mind - and it made a warm fuzziness flow through him that served only to guide him closer towards slumber.
School was tiring. Wilbur had come to realise that lately: at some point, things had begun piling up and now they were taking a toll on him. He hadn’t noticed it in elementary school when they were allowed home at 1pm every day, nor in middle school when they didn’t have a dozen electives and subjects to juggle. But now that he was in high school, days often ended so late that when he was dismissed it was right around the time to get dinner- not to mention that when he got back home he still had to struggle through piles of work and assignments due the next day or in the coming weeks. It was exhausting, and sleep was a privilege that not many students got enough of. This enticing opportunity to take a short nap appealed immensely to Wilbur, who hadn’t gotten more than six hours of sleep last night.
Shifting, Wilbur pressed his head into the softness of the couch and sighed in contentment, letting his eyes flutter shut. The familiar drowsiness swept him once more, but this time Wilbur didn’t fight it.
When he startled awake for seemingly no reason, twenty minutes had passed, and Wilbur’s arms were covered in goosebumps from the coldness of the air-conditioned clinic. There was now a middle-aged woman and her daughter sitting on the couch directly opposite him, quietly talking amongst themselves, and Wilbur shifted, coughing uncomfortably. He’d feel so much better if Phil was there with him. But Phil was busy with work, and Wilbur couldn’t trouble him all the time.
It was fine, he tried to tell himself, shaking off his nerves. It would go as normal: his therapist would invite him in, he’d talk for a half-hour, and then he could leave and get dinner. He’d promised Tommy he’d buy him his favourite sushi on the way back, and Wilbur intended to make good on his promise.
“Will Gold?”
Trying his best to suppress the prickle of unease that passed through him at the sound of his biological surname, Wilbur rose from the couch and took a deep breath, following the well-dressed lady down the corridor. When she showed him to a small, well-furnished room, Wilbur caught sight of his therapist sitting at her desk and offered her a perfunctory smile, trying very hard to hide his nerves.
She smiled back. Her face was sweet and kind, but Wilbur didn’t feel any better. “Take a seat, Will.”
“Wilbur,” Wilbur said automatically, sinking down onto the beanbag in the corner.
“Sorry,” she laughed. “I should know better.”
Wilbur cracked a small, uncertain smile. “It’s alright,” he replied.
He hadn’t been called Will for a long, long time, and when he had, it often was followed by a fist to his cheek or a kick to his ribs. He was fine reading it (which was great, otherwise he’d be kind of screwed with how popular the word ‘will’ was in the English language), and Tommy, Techno and Phil could call him that without eliciting a negative response, but if someone unfamiliar did so, he’d instinctively shrink in fear. It was something he’d been trying to overcome for a while now.
“How have you been?” She was beginning to go through the motions now, easing into their session. “It’s been a week! Time flies, doesn’t it?”
Wilbur cleared his throat, wondering if he should tell her about the fire. “Yeah,” he mumbled, fiddling with his fingers.
He wished he could summon the same confident energy he had around his pseudo-family, but there was a fearful timidness to him now that he couldn’t shake despite the encouraging expression on his therapist’s face.
“Um,” he began, throat dry. “There was… a fire in school recently.”
Her eyebrows drew together briefly in concern. “And how was that for you?”
Wilbur swallowed, studying the pattern of the navy-blue carpet on the floor. “It was- it was distressing,” he managed. He felt like he had too many emotions and too little words to describe them with. “I don’t really remember most of it. I think Rev was the one who… who was present at the time.”
He was suddenly aware of how floaty and disconnected he felt from the world around him. Wilbur blinked rapidly a few times, trying to push away the encroaching sensation threatening to swallow him whole. It was one that greatly resembled the drowsiness he’d felt earlier outside on the couch, but this one wasn’t fuzzy and comforting. It was bewitching and hypnotising, beckoning him into the unknown, and Wilbur dimly recognised it as a bout of dissociation.
His therapist was talking, but her words were incomprehensible. Wilbur closed his eyes and sucked at his bottom lip, feeling the numbness wash over him. Without really thinking, he was yanking out his phone from his pocket and desperately setting an alarm, trying to hold onto the last shreds of his consciousness. He managed to do so long enough to successfully calibrate the notification he needed before the dissociation took hold of him entirely.
When he looked up again, the woman in front of him was gazing at him with warm eyes.
“Hey,” she ventured. “Are you alright?”
He sat upright, straightening his spine. He never liked to slouch. He knew some of the others did, whether out of carelessness or apathy, but he in particular preferred to present a more dignified image.
She seemed to notice this. “Am I still speaking to Wilbur?”
He regarded her coolly, slightly amused by her softened tone and tactful demeanour. There was really nothing more to her than a flimsy bundle of good manners and trained politeness. He was quite sure of that. But she had asked him a question, and accordingly, he had to answer.
“No,” he replied, smiling cordially. He could play the manners game, too, if she wanted.
“Who do I have the pleasure of talking to, then?”
“I. Fakier,” he said, offering her a hand. “It’s an honour to meet you, ma’am.”
She took his hand hesitantly. “No need to call me that, I. Fakier.”
He inclined his head, laughing pleasantly. “No, no, I insist. I don’t believe we’ve crossed paths before, and I love making a good first impression. You are our therapist?”
If she was uncomfortable, her face showed none of it. Clearly, she was highly professional. “I am your therapist, yes. And as for first impressions, you’ve made a very good one, that’s certain.”
He smiled languidly. “That’s comforting to hear.”
She gave him a wry grin. “You’re a lot more collected than Wilbur, aren’t you? You seem more proper in some way.”
“In what ways?”
“In the way you talk, the way you sit,” she listed, gesturing to his adjusted posture. “Wilbur was very apprehensive when he came in today. That’s all gone now.” She scanned him up and down. “He told me about a fire in his school.”
“Yes,” I. Fakier answered immediately. He knew about the fire, but he didn’t think it was his to talk about. He hadn’t been there himself. “There was a fire. But I believe I’m the wrong person to talk to.”
“I was informed that it was Rev who took care of you guys?”
“That’s correct.”
“You guys were unharmed, which is splendid.”
“Rev knows what he’s doing in times of danger, I think. He’s surprisingly quick to react. I don’t like him much, with all his flippant, fire-loving ways. But he’s here for a reason - we all are - and I think we’re all the more efficient because of him.”
“Definitely. You guys are all here for your own reasons.”
She was typing something down, not making eye contact with him. I. Fakier studied her with interest, unable to keep his lips from sliding upwards into a smirk. He loved psychology above all things, and the way she was rigid and faltering clearly indicated that he’d been right when he’d guessed that they’d never met before. Was she trying to figure out what made him tick like she’d figured out Wilbur? I. Fakier crossed his legs and leaned back, his smile widening. He didn’t think he was easy to read like Wilbur was, but he definitely wanted to watch her try.
“Well,” she began again, finally taking her attention off the laptop screen, “since you’re here, I. Fakier, is there anything you’d like to tell me about?”
“Besides the fire?”
She glanced at him questioningly. “Can you tell me about the fire?”
“No. As I said, Rev was the one there, not me.”
“That’s alright. I understand. But what about you? How have you been? Has anything happened to you that you want to share with me?”
He paused, skimming through the sparse and sporadic memories he possessed. There was the monotone droning of Wilbur’s biology professor talking about endoplasmic reticulum, and then the thick pages of a textbook filled with highlighted sentences, but besides that, his mind drew a blank.
At last, he shook his head. “My apologies,” he said.
“Don’t be sorry,” she replied. “It’s natural to take a while. How about you tell me what you think about the others? How does that sound?”
I. Fakier tilted his head slightly. “I could,” he said, “but I don’t see how it would be beneficial.”
She smiled gently. It seemed like her patience was never-ending, and that fascinated him. How was it that her expression was still so benign, even after all the inconvenience he’d caused her? She’d been trained well, he surmised. Either that, or she was a brilliant actor.
“Well,” she explained, “if you were willing to elaborate on your relationship with the rest, I’d be able to gain greater understanding into how you guys work together. Plus, I’d be able to help all of you as well.”
There was a flare of vindictive spite, an acidulous instance of anger that was present for a split second before dancing away as though it had never been. I. Fakier was stunned momentarily by the abruptness of it. It hadn’t been his own emotions, had it? It hadn’t come from him. He wasn’t quick to anger, nor was he spiteful and brittle, or- oh.
Oh.
“Rev doesn’t like you,” he stated.
She looked quite taken aback. “Why not?”
“Not sure. But I wouldn’t worry about it. His bad books are a mile long.”
“And is there anyone in his… good books?”
“I have no idea,” he responded. “I’m not him.”
She nodded emphatically. “Of course you’re not.”
“I’m glad you understand.” I. Fakier leaned forward, linking his fingers under his chin. “You know, not a lot of people do.”
“I do know. You guys must have a hard time just trying to function, don’t you?”
“We do.”
She resumed her typing. “Are you able to tell me about any of these difficulties or concerns?”
“Not really,” he said. “It’s not really so much for me as it is for Wilbur, I suppose. I’m here because… well, because Wilbur doesn’t need to know some of the things I know.” He allowed himself a small smile. “Excuse me for being distrustful of you. It’s a safety precaution.”
“There’s no need to push yourself if you’re not comfortable.”
He relaxed a little into the beanbag. “I’m glad to hear that.”
She typed for a minute more. Then she glanced at the clock and gave him an apologetic look. “Our time’s up for today,” she informed him, standing from her chair.
“I see.” He rose from the beanbag. “It’s been a pleasure.”
“It was nice to meet you. Will you be making an appointment?”
“I don’t know how to do that; I think Wilbur will do it. Do you take call-ins?”
“Yes, but you’ll have to call fast if you want a good slot. I’ll leave it up to you guys, alright?” She waved, and then she went back through the doorway of the room they’d come from, the wooden door shutting behind her.
I. Fakier curled his lips into the tiniest of grins, gazing at the closed door for a moment. Then he turned to the front desk, asked for his receipt, and left. It was routine, like clockwork. He didn’t know how the bill was going to be settled, but it would be settled somehow, and he wasn’t exactly curious to know the details. Instead, once he emerged from the clinic into the shopping centre, I. Fakier turned towards the exit and began walking home.
That was when his phone buzzed violently in his pocket. I. Fakier pulled it out to reveal an alarm going off, the description awfully misspelt and barely coherent.
‘whoevr htis is, buy tommy hsi sushi 4 dinner -wiblur’
I. Fakier silenced the alarm, grinning widely and turning around to head back inside the shopping centre. Wilbur’s valiant attempt amused him- so he’d honour it by fulfilling his request.