Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

FRIENDS

        > #hello-fuckers

Welcome to

FRIENDS

This is the beginning of this server.

→ georgenotfound just joined the server - glhf!

→ BIG TOMMY just showed up.

→ Welcome, tubbo_. We hope you brought pizza.

        > #general

Welcome to #general!

This is the start of the #general channel.

georgenotfound: owo wats this

        > #hello-fuckers

→ It’s a bird! It’s a plane! Nevermind, it’s just jackmanifold.

→ A wild Ph1LzA appeared.

        > #general

BIG TOMMY: HELLO

jackmanifold: think i made a mistake accepting this inv

BIG TOMMY: HELLO JACK MANIFOLD

jackmanifold: ..hello tommy

clay: yo

so i thought we should have a discord for school

i sent a bunch of invites but some people aren’t here

Ph1LzA: Ok then why am I here

I graduated already

clay: u need to control tommy, wil and techno

no one else can

jackmanifold: also if u can send ur past essays here

Ph1LzA: What

jackmanifold: what

Ph1LzA: School just started what essays do you have

jackmanifold: none

but like

yk

for future ref

Ph1LzA: I’ll tell your teacher

        > #hello-fuckers

→ Welcome WilburSoot. Say hi!

→ Technoblade just showed up.

        > #general

BIG TOMMY: WILBUR

@WilburSoot

WilburSoot: hi child

BIG TOMMY: I AM NOT A CHILD

Technoblade: hullo

BIG TOMMY: TECHNOOOOO

CAN YOU SEND ME UR ENGLISH ESSAY FROM LAST YEAR

Technoblade: i can do anything for the right price tommy

how much are we talkin

BIG TOMMY: WHAT

clay: ok uk what

since yall are alr trying to scam

        > #drug-dealing

Welcome to #drug-dealing!

This is the start of the #drug-dealing channel.

        > #general

clay: go to #drug-dealing to ask for homework stuff

jackmanifold: POG

Ph1LzA: The school year JUST STARTED

I am very worried

Technoblade: don’t be phil

this is regular behaviour

        > #drug-dealing

Technoblade: so @BIG TOMMY

how much money will you give me

BIG TOMMY: BRUH TECHNOOOOOO

JUST LET ME HAVE ONE PARAGRAPH

Technoblade: you’re broke? L

out of my face

jackmanifold: true brotherhood on display here

WilburSoot: didnt you need some too jack manifold

jackmanifold: .

ok look i’m so shit at essays

WilburSoot: high school is 90% essays dude

you’re fucked

        > #hello-fuckers

→ niki just slid into the server.

→ Everyone welcome Minx!

        > #general

WilburSoot: no one will welcome minx tyvm

Minx: FUCK YOU YOU CUNT

WilburSoot: no thx luv xoxo

i like my women a lot milder

jackmanifold: and wilbur’s alr flirting cool

Minx: THIS FUCKER

ILL CURB STOMP YOU BITCH

tubbo_: minx and tommy have the same energy

except tommy doesn’t have balls

BIG TOMMY: WHAT

WilburSoot: that’s true

Technoblade: tommy is significantly less intelligent

and less loaded

clay: the bullying tommy lecture is in session

Technoblade: it is always in session

kill the child with eloquence

BIG TOMMY: WTF IS ELOQUENCE

WilburSoot: tommy is ur capslock just stuck

BIG TOMMY: IT’S A PART OF ME

BRITISH SCREAMING IS MY THING

WilburSoot: what does being british have to do with anything

charlie’s american and he screams just as much

clay: speaking of which he hasn’t accepted my invite yet

Ph1LzA: Probably paying attention in class

Like y’all should be

        > #hello-fuckers

→ Slimecicle just showed up.

        > #general

Ph1LzA: Nevermind

Motherfucker just came online

Slimecicle: HOWDY

BIG TOMMY: HELLO CHARLIE

YOU ARE AMERICAN

Slimecicle: yes

what about that

WilburSoot: he’s convinced that people can only scream if they’re british

Slimecicle: nah thats bullshit

i can scream

WilburSoot: yeah show him up charlie

howl like a fucking banshee

Slimecicle: *clears throat

AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

tubbo_: UHM

clay: ayo

Slimecicle: what

Technoblade: didn’t know you were a furry

Slimecicle: ??????????IM NOT?

BIG TOMMY: GAHDHAHDHHAAHAHAHSJKDAFS

CHARLIE EXPOSED HIMSELF

Slimecicle: WILBUR U TOLD ME TO SCREAM

WilburSoot: I TOLD YOU TO SCREAM

NOT YOWL LIKE A FURRY

Slimecicle: WTF

HOW DO U KNOW THATS NOT JUST HOW I SCREAM

WilburSoot: I’VE LITERALLY HEARD YOU SCREAM

Ph1LzA: Hey @clay why did you make this server

clay: idk

probs a mistake tbh

Ph1LzA: Yes, definitely a mistake

clay: should we make an introduction channel actually

i think some people i sent invites to 

like

might not know y’all that well

WilburSoot: you’re literally the server owner

who the fuck is gonna stop u

clay: this is what i get for trying to be nice

fuck you wilbur

        > #introductions

Welcome to #introductions!

This is the start of the #introductions channel.

clay: hi mfs it’s your benevolent server owner clay

he/him or they/them, 2nd year

UHHHH i’m in the school football team

psst @everyone drop ur credit card numbers here owo

Technoblade: im techno

he/him

2nd year

i play chess ig

tubbo_: hi i’m toby but u can call me tubbo!

he/him, 1st year

i do gymnastics :D

OH im also dyslexic so pls be patient with me!!

BIG TOMMY: HELLO PEASANTS I’M BIG TOMMY

HE/HIM AND FIRST YEAR

IM IN CHOIR AND THEATRE

Ph1LzA: Am Phil

He/him

I’ve graduated already

jackmanifold: hey i’m jack!!

he/him, first year

i play tennis but i’m not very good at it

        > #hello-fuckers

→ Fundy hopped into the server.

→ Yay you made it, Eret!

        > #general

Fundy: hellooooooooooooo

BIG TOMMY: FUNDY YOOOOOOOOOOO

clay: introductions in #introductions pls!

welcome to the discord

Fundy: hello child

what’s this for clay

clay: school mostly

but also because ik u guys wanna copy homework so

barter for completed homework in #drug-dealing

Fundy: LMAOOO

FJDFHSJ

THE CHANNEL FOR COPYING HOMEWORK IS CALLED #drug-dealing

top tier server u made here clay

truly flawless

clay: thank you thank you

also welcome @Eret :D

Eret: Hello

        > #introductions

Fundy: hello motherfuckers

my name is fundy

he/him

2nd year

i’m part of the school cycling club

Eret: Hi, I’m Eret

he/him, she/her, they/them, any pronouns actually

Second year here, and I’m in the fashion club

I also have ADHD, dyslexia and dyspraxia

        > #general

clay: ok who else hasn’t self-introed

do it or die

BIG TOMMY: @georgenotfound @WilburSoot @niki @Minx @Slimecicle

Slimecicle: OKAY OKAY ON IT U FUCK

        > #introductions

Slimecicle: fuck u tommy

i’m charlie, 2nd year, he/him

i’m in debate

Minx: hi cunts i am minx

she/her or they/them or any pronouns tbh idgaf

third year

im in the fashion club with eret

niki: hi guys!! i’m niki :>

i go by she/her!

i’m in my 2nd year here and i do dance!

        > #general

clay: @georgenotfound

georgenotfound: BRO WHAT DO U WANT FROM ME

clay: ur intro

georgenotfound: IM IN CLASS

Ph1LzA: Let him pay attention Clay

clay: fine

@WilburSoot ???

WilburSoot: sorry i muted the notifs because tommy’s here

gonna go do it rn

BIG TOMMY: YOU WHAT

FUCK YOU WILBUR

I AM BIG AND STRONG

Slimecicle: this is why he needs u muted tommy

        > #introductions

WilburSoot: good day lads

my name is wilbur

or you can call me william if you want to be fancy

i go by he/him

i’m a 3rd year and i play guitar

BIG TOMMY: FUCK YOU WILL

        > #general

Ph1LzA: No but

Do you all not have classes??

Slimecicle: i do

i just cannot give a fuck about indices and surds rn

WilburSoot: that’s what u get for taking maths

Slimecicle: better than taking music

L move

majority of the school agrees with me

WilburSoot: that’s because the majority of the school are idiots

they force themselves to conform to societal expectations

Slimecicle: or maybe the majority of the school just likes maths

WilburSoot: it is possible, yes, that i am surrounded by clowns

Technoblade: wilbur just because you’re bad at something doesn’t mean it’s bad in itself

Slimecicle: FACTS KING

WilburSoot: well that’s easy for you techno

since the moment you’re bad at something you quit

Technoblade: why would u throw me under the bus like this wilbur

WilburSoot: felt like it

Technoblade: wooow

i have such good friends

let me add more people

can i clay?

clay: sure go ahead

Technoblade: pog

        > #hello-fuckers

→ Skeppy just landed.

        > #general

 Skeppy: YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

BIG TOMMY: SKEPPY

Technoblade: hallo skeppy

Skeppy: HELLO TECHNO AND TOMMY

Ph1LzA: Good god

PAY ATTENTION IN CLASS

Skeppy: NO

FUCK ECONOMICS

I DONT CARE IF I FAIL

Ph1LzA: It’s the start of the year

Why are we already talking about failing?

Slimecicle: because it’s going to happen

it’s inevitable phil

we’re all gonna die

clay: hello skeppy

introduce yourself in #introductions please :))

Skeppy: YESSIR

        > #introductions

Skeppy: YOOO I’M ZAK

AM A 2ND YEAR, GO BY HE/HIM

I PLAY DRUMS :DDDD

        > #general

Skeppy: OK DONE

clay: thx

Skeppy: @Technoblade CAN I COPY UR ECONS ESSAY

Technoblade: which one

Skeppy: THE ONE ABOUT JET FUEL

and rising air ticket prices

Technoblade: .

skeppy that was due a week ago

Skeppy: I KNOW STFUKAFHSDK

Technoblade: which part do you not understand

Skeppy: ALL OF IT

WilburSoot: hopeless

Skeppy: HI WILBUR

FUCK U WILBUR

WilburSoot: hello skeppy

clay: we have a channel specifically for copying homework btw

#drug-dealing

Skeppy: AYO

@Technoblade meet me there lol

Technoblade: sigh

        > #drug-dealing

Skeppy: TECHNO GIVE ME UR ESSAY

Technoblade: skeppy if you just copy you won’t learn anything

you have to analyse the market and demand for air tickets

because jet fuel is a component of production for tickets

so the cost of production of tickets goes up

and the cost of tickets go up

Skeppy: im gna sit here and pretend i understand what youre saying

Technoblade: bruhhh

WilburSoot: like i said

hopeless

Skeppy: GO AWAY

YOU DON’T EVEN TAKE ECONS

WilburSoot: no i don’t

i’m not a masochist

Skeppy: WJSJJAHFHFJAKDH

Technoblade: usually i would complain

but i agree that economics is bad

Skeppy: WAIT SO TECHNO HOW DO I DRAW THE GRAPHS

Technoblade: demand/supply curve

Skeppy: YEAH

HOW DO I DRAW THAT

Technoblade: skeppy we learnt that in year one

Skeppy: I KNOW

Technoblade: you know what

wilbur might be right this time

Skeppy: OI NO

DONT LEAVE ME HANGING

WilburSoot: LMAO

Skeppy: FUCK OFF WILBUR

TECHNO PLEASE

HELP ME

        > #general

Technoblade: hello i’m back

Skeppy: TECHNOOOOOOOOO

WilburSoot: y’all hear smth

Skeppy: ?????????????????????????????????

WTF

Technoblade: must be the wind

Chapter Text

FRIENDS

     > #general

clay: alright

just to make it clear because i feel like i have to

this server is for school but i want everyone to feel safe

and included

so please respect everyone and be mindful

BIG TOMMY: YESSIR

tubbo_: please excuse me if i spell/read anything bad bc i have dyslexia! ;v;

WilburSoot: of course, tubbo :>

tubbo_: :D

Eret: I have dyslexia, dyspraxia and ADHD

Please treat me patiently. :)

Technoblade: eyyy so do i

ADHD gang

Minx: i have bipolar disorder

niki: and we all love you, minx! <3

clay: oh wow

thank u everyone for being willing to open up

i’m really honoured that u guys feel comfy

tubbo_: no problem clay ^^

we all should be friends here

so when we need to copy homework we have people to turn to

Ph1LzA: Okay this was so wholesome Tubbo and you just ruined it

tubbo_: IT’S TRUE

Minx: ily too niki <3

fuck the rest of you cunts

WilburSoot: wow

minx is so cold

Minx: fuck u wilbur u lanky noodle-looking fucking bitch

i still haven’t forgotten that time u targeted me in uno and got me to 23 cards

WilburSoot: lol

skill issue

Minx: FOCK off

Technoblade: how did wilbur get you to 23 cards when he doesn’t even know how to play uno

Minx: SHUT UP TECHNO

Technoblade: sounds like a skill issue to me

BIG TOMMY: LMAO

YOU SUCK MINX

Minx: tommy you little british gremlin shit i will curb stomp you

BIG TOMMY: I WILL SIMPLY EVADE YOUR CURB STOMP

YOU CANNOT BEAT ME

Minx: meet me in real life

pussy

you won’t

BIG TOMMY: PHIL CAN I GO BEAT UP MINX

Ph1LzA: No, Tommy, you cannot go and beat up Minx

BIG TOMMY: AW CMON

Ph1LzA: No

--------

OHANA

     > #general

Ph1LzA: Wil

Aren’t you going to tell them about

WilburSoot: fuck no

Ph1LzA: Why, Wil?

Technoblade: wil, they’re not going to judge you

if they do, we’ll just leave their loser discord

you know we’ll always be by your side

WilburSoot: i don’t want anyone to fucking know

Ph1LzA: Why?

WilburSoot: it’s so

i just don’t wanna talk about it

ever

BIG TOMMY: but you talk to us about it

WilburSoot: you guys are different

i know you guys won’t hurt me

i just can’t

i’m sorry

Technoblade: wil

are you ashamed?

WilburSoot: techno, i have not gone a day without hating myself

i am ashamed about everything regarding myself

Technoblade: but it wasn’t your fault

you know that, right?

WilburSoot: i don’t know

i’m not convinced, techno

BIG TOMMY: please wil

i love you and will always look up to you

you’re one of the strongest people i know

WilburSoot: tommy you could be a comedian

you know that?

BIG TOMMY: :(

Ph1LzA: Hey Wil

We won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to

But one day something is going to slip.

You’re not always going to be the one texting

And when that day comes I hope you’re ready to open up

WilburSoot: right

i’ll never be ready

so i’ll just make sure that day never comes

Ph1LzA: You can’t run away from your problems and those who want to help you

That’s why we told you to get a diagnosis

WilburSoot: yes, and i hate it

i hate them

i hate all of them, phil

every day i wish i could be normal

Ph1LzA: You have every right to be hateful towards the world after everything you’ve been through, Wilbur.

But they’re all parts of you.

They came to be for a reason

WilburSoot: i haven’t been through jack shit

people have been through fucking war and natural disasters

Technoblade: wil, don’t minimise your pain

we know what you’ve been through and it’s horrifying

so there’s no need to compare it to drastic things like that

we know you’re hurting all the same, and just because it’s not war or natural disaster doesn’t make it any less valid

Ph1LzA: ^^

Thank you, Techno

WilburSoot: i’m sorry

i’m just so tired and i have two papers due this week

i’ve been having trouble staying present during lectures

i didn’t mean to be a piece of shit

BIG TOMMY: u weren’t a piece of shit

ur my big bro wilbur

no matter what

and it’s okay to be tired

we’ll be here for u

WilburSoot: thank you

i love all of you so much

Technoblade: QUICK TAKE A SCREENSHOT HE’LL NEVER SAY THAT AGAIN

TOMMY GO GO GO

BIG TOMMY: I GOT IT

WilburSoot: oh FUCK OFF U RATS

Ph1LzA: But they’re right, Wil

We’ll always be here.

WilburSoot: i know

thank you for making me smile :)

but i’ll hold off on telling people first please?

i just don’t feel comfortable

Ph1LzA: Of course, take your time

WilburSoot: thank you phil

btw

anyone know what a phospholipid is again

Ph1LzA: Fucks sake lmao

--------

FRIENDS

     > #general

clay: if anyone wants to say anything they’d like others to know pls do so! i’d love to know more about u guys

never knew eret had adhd

Eret: I have too many things, haha

clay: no no you’re perfect the way u are eret

we love u

Eret: Thank you!

WilburSoot: yeah thanks for sharing guys!

now i understand u guys better and i can be more aware of things you might struggle with

tubbo_: <3

jackmanifold: oh yo!! guys :,) wait for me!!!!

i missed the fluff FUCK

WilburSoot: L

skill issue

now we're back to shitting on each other

Minx: why do u keep SAYING THAT

WilburSoot: it’s true

Minx: NO IT’S NOT

niki: uhhhhhh i’m bisexual!

just thought i’d put it out there :>

WilburSoot: proud of u, niki <3

niki: thank u wil!!

BIG TOMMY: AM I THIRD WHEELING

WilburSoot: no stfu

get a gf and fuck off from the internet forever

BIG TOMMY: WOW

THIS IS HURTFUL

Eret: Am also bisexual!

Technoblade: yoooo we have a diverse cast

imagine the millions we could make if we filmed a movie

jackmanifold: ah if life were that easy maybe then i wouldn’t be COMPLETELY SCREWED FOR MATHS

Technoblade: maths is easy

what do you need help with

jackmanifold: ugh

i don’t wanna talk about it

just coming back from tennis and i’m sweaty and tired

WilburSoot: fuckin mood tbh

math sucks

Technoblade: u guys are just bad

WilburSoot: can’t hear u from all the way up here at the better subject combination

Technoblade: i’ll quote u on that when u ask me to lend you money when ur music dies

WilburSoot: i could be homeless and still laugh at anyone who loves maths

like what a fucking menace to society

Technoblade: HAHAH

well thank all your lucky stars i like english more

WilburSoot: i do

every single day

clay: what is your combination wilbur

WilburSoot: literature, history, geography, biology plus compulsory subjects

i kinda take french but i’m so bad at it

and i’m in the music elective

Slimecicle: that biology lookin kinda out of place man

WilburSoot: fuck the rule of one contrasting subject

biology is just the science that interests me most

clay: oh cool

humanities boi

hardly any of those i think

WilburSoot: yea im big on music

everything else is kinda ehhh

clay: cool

what about u techno

Technoblade: uhhh econs, physics, chemistry, history

plus compulsory

clay: oh yoooo

mine’s almost the same except i take biology instead of physics

Eret: I’m also in the humanities stream!

WilburSoot: hah

since eret and i are in the same boat and none of yall would ever insult eret that means by proxy you cannot insult me either

get fucked

to insult the humanities bois is to insult eret as well

BIG TOMMY: .

WELL PLAYED WILBUR

WE MUST REGROUP TO DISCUSS BOYS

Technoblade: bruh what is this

are we just creating a huge schism between the science and arts streams

we’ve been in here for like two days and we’ve already started a war gg

BIG TOMMY: WILBUR STARTED THIS

AND U LOVE WARS UR A HISTORY NERD

DONT PRETEND LIKE URE NOT HAPPY ABOUT THIS

Technoblade: fine

hope you’re ready to die wilbur

WilburSoot: wow

fuck u too bastard <3

tubbo_: but i’m in the humanities stream!!!!

tommy!!!!!!

BIG TOMMY: UH

SHIT

WilburSoot: KEKW

I HAVE UNLIMITED MEATSHIELDS

GO TO HELL TOMMY

BIG TOMMY: THIS ISNT OVER

I WILL FIND SOMETHING I CAN MOCK YOU AND ONLY YOU ABOUT

Slimecicle: psst music

i mean what

WilburSoot: CHARLIE NO YOU SNITCH

BIG TOMMY: AH YES

U SING ABOUT GIRLS

WilburSoot: please no

BIG TOMMY: PLEASE YES

clay: what’s your combo tubbo??

tubbo_: literature, history, geography and chemistry

clay: cool

BIG TOMMY: FIRST WE MUST ESTABLISH OUR FACTIONS

WHO’S IN SCIENCE

clay: uh me

Slimecicle: regrettably me

Fundy: same

BIG TOMMY: CLAY MAKE MORE CHANNELS FOR ARTS AND SCIENCES

clay: why tho

BIG TOMMY: THIS IS WAR

Eret: Bruh

     > #science-stream

Welcome to #science-stream!

This is the start of the #science-stream channel.

BIG TOMMY: POG

     > #arts-stream

Welcome to #arts-stream!

This is the start of the #arts-stream channel.

     > #general

clay: happy now tommy

BIG TOMMY: YES

COME TECHNO

WE MUST START PLOTTING AGAINST WILBUR

WilburSoot: literally what the fuck did i do

BIG TOMMY: YOU EXISTED

Chapter Text

FRIENDS

     > #general

clay: hey is everyone okay???

Skeppy: yeah i’m good

at the field right now

Ph1LzA: ??????? What happened?

clay: small fire broke out in the science lab

they evacuated just in case

georgenotfound: i’m alright

clay: roll call

everyone report if you’re okay or not

otherwise i’ll just be endlessly worried

Technoblade: tommy and i are together and we’re fine

BIG TOMMY: yes techno came and got me

clay: good

@Slimecicle @Eret @Minx @niki @Fundy @jackmanifold ??????

Slimecicle: all good am at field

Eret: On the way to the field now, no worries, my class is super far from the fire

jackmanifold: same here, was in canteen so the field was right there

Fundy: i was having physical ed in the field LMAO

my whole class is just standing here sweaty and very depressed

Minx: im at the field with niki

niki: yes minx is with me! :D

clay: okay okay

are we missing anyone?

BIG TOMMY: TUBBO

tubbo_: hey hey i’m fine! with my class in the field already :)

Ph1LzA: will?

clay: oh yeah @WilburSoot ???

Technoblade: oh no

BIG TOMMY: oh fuck

clay: wait why? why are u guys reacting like that

--------

OHANA

     > #emergency

Technoblade: guys will is not okay

Ph1LzA: How do you know?

Technoblade: he’d have responded earlier

i don’t like this silence

BIG TOMMY: me neither

Technoblade: @WilburSoot hey

Ph1LzA: Any of you have his timetable?

What class was he having

BIG TOMMY: i do

let me check hold on

Technoblade: thank you tommy

BIG TOMMY: oh no

oh fuck

he was having biology

Ph1LzA: Shit

Technoblade: @WilburSoot

@WilburSoot

@WilburSoot

i’m not going to stop until you answer us wilbur

@WilburSoot

WilburSoot: Wilbur’s fine, Technoblade.

Technoblade: .

hello, rev

nice to see you again

WilburSoot: The pleasure is mine.

Wilbur will not remember this, but we saw the fire.

In fact, it broke out in the very laboratory we were using.

I quite enjoyed the sight of it. I was fairly inclined to allow everything to burn to the ground.

BIG TOMMY: wil please

wil come back

Technoblade: eloquence and charm won’t work on me rev

where is wilbur.

WilburSoot: He had a panic attack.

The smoke was so hot and blinding.

He couldn’t find his way out of the laboratory.

The fire alarm wouldn’t stop shrieking in his ears.

BIG TOMMY: wil,,,

Ph1LzA: Rev

Can we talk to Wilbur for a moment?

WilburSoot: You’ll see him when you see him. I’m not dragging him out for you.

Technoblade: wilbur is not okay

he had a breakdown, didn’t he?

WilburSoot: Of course he did. He detests me.

He’d never acknowledge me otherwise.

Technoblade: so we need to speak to him.

we need to help him rev

where are you?

WilburSoot: Thinking of secretly leaving the field during the evacuation, Technoblade?

Not very intelligent of you.

Technoblade: neither is leaving wilbur alone in this situation.

BIG TOMMY: rev please

rev let us see wilbur

there’s been a fire and he was there

WilburSoot: When he wakes up, it’ll be like he never was, so don’t worry your pretty little head about it too much.

Technoblade: wilbur niki is worried about you

she’s asking where you are and if you’re alright

she knows you had bio

wilbur?

Ph1LzA: He’s gone offline

Technoblade: damn it.

alright as soon as the evacuation ends i don’t care about my next class i’m going to look for wilbur

i’ll update you guys okay?

BIG TOMMY: i’ll come too techno

Ph1LzA: Alright.

You guys be safe please.

Techno, look after Tommy.

Technoblade: i will. i’ve already failed wilbur. i won’t fail tommy.

--------

FRIENDS

     > #general

georgenotfound: hey is wilbur ok?

clay: no clue dude

i don’t see him in the field and that’s a surprise considering he’s a motherfucking giraffe

Eret: Something’s up

clay: i agree

and it’s not george’s height

georgenotfound: fuck you clay

Technoblade: hey guys, wil’s okay

don’t panic

clay: why didn’t he reply

did his phone get left behind?

Technoblade: long story

but something like that

clay: okay

get him to reply when he’s available?

just so i stop worrying haha

Technoblade: will do

Eret: But everyone else is alright?

clay: yup

Eret: That’s good

--------

Techno came to a rapid stop around a corner that had his ankles protesting intensely. Close behind him was Tommy, although there really wasn’t any reaction to the painful halt in their sprint from either of them. They were both honed in on their one and only mission: to find Wilbur.

They had no idea where Rev would take Wilbur’s body, only that he wouldn’t leave the school. Techno knew this instinctively - he’d known Wilbur and his personalities (or alters, to use the term he’d heard Wilbur use) for long enough.

They bolted from classroom to classroom, desperately peering into the windows as feverishly as they could without disrupting the class within. It wasn’t like they were going to interrupt any classes - the school had been too shaken by the fire to do any more studying - but the teachers were probably giving debriefings and offering advice and any sort of authoritative attention on Techno was a heck no for him.

But he wasn’t in any of the classrooms - not even the empty ones. The entire fifth floor, where the labs were, had been cordoned off. Techno stared at the blocked staircase and swallowed, fatigued. His limbs buzzed with adrenaline, and he was filled with a sudden urge to tear past the barrier just to see if Wilbur was up there anyway. This was highly uncharacteristic of him. He was calm and logical by nature, but when such an important person to him was potentially in danger, Techno felt like he couldn’t do anything else besides gnaw at his fingers.

Then Tommy said, suddenly, breathless from the sprinting, “Techno, the rooftop.”

He turned his head to look back at Tommy. The younger boy’s blonde hair was a messy bush atop his head, and his eyes were widened. They didn’t have to say anything; the look they shared was enough. And they booked it, slipping under the cordon and ignoring the fifth floor completely, taking the stairs up to the roof.

The roof door was heavy, but Techno slammed his shoulder against it until it gave and swung open reluctantly, groaning as though movement for it was the most tedious thing in the world. When he and Tommy burst out onto the rooftop, the sun was bright in their eyes, almost piercing - they doubled back, sheltering their faces from the heat.

But then Techno saw him: he saw Wilbur, sitting on the edge of the roof, his jacket hanging carelessly from his shoulders, head tilted just the slightest. He didn’t seem concerned about his precarious position at all, his focus completely on the world going on beneath him.

“Wil!” Tommy shouted, sprinting over red tiles and to his friend’s side. 

Techno followed, his heart in his throat, not quite knowing what to expect despite years and years of knowing about Wilbur’s condition. He never knew what to expect. Mental health wasn’t like maths, where one plus one was always two; no, there were hidden intricacies to mental health, ones that were so fine and subtle it was like navigating a room of invisible, razor-thin tripwires. He was rather blunt and sarcastic by nature, but after befriending Wilbur, he’d learnt that those who were hurting often responded best to genuine compassion. It was one of the many, many things Wilbur had taught him, and for that, Techno was eternally grateful. He’d come to care for Wilbur more than anyone else - even grown a soft spot for him, despite their tendency to go back and forth at each other - and wouldn’t change him for the world.

But this was not Wilbur he was looking at.

Rev’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, but he didn’t turn around to acknowledge them. “Hello, Technoblade,” he began, in a voice that resembled Techno’s in tempo but lacked the signature monotone to it.

“Wilbur,” Techno replied, looking down at his lanky figure.

Rev threw a cursory glance over his shoulder. His face, normally so charming when he smiled, seemed oddly twisted. It just wasn’t warm and inviting; there was something sinister to it. His eyes were glassy and cold - nothing like Wilbur’s. It was not Wilbur he was dealing with, and Techno had to remember that.

“Wilbur's not here,” Rev said, his smirk growing wider. “He won’t be for a very long time.”

Techno blinked, a heaviness in his chest that seemed to expand to solidify the blood within his veins. Suddenly he felt lethargic, and all the electrifying energy had been sapped from him as he stood in the burning sun, painfully aware of how tired he was. 

He wanted to talk to Wilbur. But in front of him was Rev, and he wasn’t Wilbur.

“Niki was worried,” he continued, almost mindlessly, just saying whatever he thought would be right. “She was so worried. She kept asking about you in the field. She cares about you.”

“Of course you care about Wilbur,” Rev snarled. “You only care about Wilbur. You don’t care about us.”

With a sigh, Techno descended to his knees and sat down beside Rev wordlessly.

He felt the side-glance Rev threw at him rather than saw it. “I could shove you off right now,” he heard Rev murmur, in that voice that was so familiarly Wilbur’s but not quite at the same time. “I could shove you to your death, Technoblade. You’d splatter onto the ground into millions of pieces.” 

He looked up to meet Techno’s gaze, and suddenly his eyes were manic and sharp, almost frenzied. “Just like Wilbur.”

Techno took a moment to take this in. He didn’t know how it felt like to be fragmented into different personalities and wasn’t really the type to be good at understanding human psychology on an intimate, emotional level, but he’d seen everything. He’d seen Wilbur’s tears, heard Wilbur’s screams, felt Wilbur’s fists. And somehow, all of them had felt like he was barely able to contain himself, as though he was a broken vase desperately trying to hold the shards of itself together. It must be painful, Techno had surmised. He didn’t want to know how visceral and deep that pain was.

“You could,” he said slowly. “But Wilbur wouldn’t like that.”

Rev’s predatory smile fell clean off his face.

Techno turned to him, strangely calm. He’d realised something crucial. “I’m Wilbur’s friend,” he said quietly, closely monitoring how Rev responded to his every word. “It wouldn’t benefit you in any way to push me off the roof, Rev. It would just break Wilbur even more.”

Rev’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened, then closed again. His eyes were the most opaque Techno had ever seen them, and he seemed to have gone horribly still.

“Am I right, Rev?” Techno asked firmly, gazing into Rev’s eyes. They were brown and calm, like Wilbur’s, but they weren’t warm and humorous. They were cold and calculating as Rev laughed bitterly, his throat hoarse.

“Ghost?” Techno continued, privy to the internal struggle happening right in front of him. “I. Fakier? R. Fakier? Friend?”

Rev stared at him with frozen terror on his face. Then he shot to his feet suddenly, so quickly that behind him, Tommy let out a yell of alarm at his vicious movement. He stumbled across the roof towards the door and managed to get about halfway there at a pathetically slow pace before he lost his balance, sinking to his knees.

Techno and Tommy were by his side in a split second, hurriedly grasping onto their friend’s shaking body. His long brown curls fell into his face, casting shadows over his expression. They sat there as he shuddered violently and threw up onto the roof, guttural sounds coming from the depths of his throat. And then he was clutching onto Techno’s shirt and oh- there Wilbur was, his face pale and fear causing him to hyperventilate.

“Breathe, Wilbur, hey,” Techno said gently, clasping Wilbur’s cold hand in his. “We’re here. Techno and Tommy. We’re here with you.”

Wilbur said nothing. Techno doubted he even had the strength to. But he took one look up at them and the brokenness in his eyes as they filled with anguished tears could have destroyed the toughest man in the world.

--------

OHANA

     > #emergency

Technoblade: @Ph1LzA we found him

on the roof

rev was there but somehow i snapped him out of it

BIG TOMMY: techno was so cool phil

Ph1LzA: Holy shit, thank god

How is he?

Technoblade: he threw up on the roof and cried for a long, long time before passing out

his face is hella pale

we’re with him in the sick bay right now

Ph1LzA: Alright

Keep an eye on him and let me know if you need me to come over

Technoblade: yep

--------

FRIENDS

     > #general

Slimecicle: well good start to the year

the school nearly burns down

we all nearly fucking die

Skeppy: IT’S A PREMONITION OF WHAT’S TO COME

Fundy: to be honest can’t wait to die

don’t wanna take that maths diagnostic next week

Slimecicle: dude i’m going to fail

my grades are so shit

Fundy: same my guy

idk how i’m gonna make it to adulthood

we need phil to teach us his ways

Slimecicle: clearly he’s hacking

all adults are hackers

Fundy: FACTS

adults suck

Slimecicle: i’m so jealous of people that can maths

like what do i have to do

whose dick do i have to suck to earn this power

jackmanifold: i open my phone to see this shit thanks

fuck u all i hate you

Slimecicle: no u love us

jackmanifold: i hate you

i possess a strong dislike for you all

Slimecicle: feeling’s mutual jack <3

jackmanifold: WHAT

Skeppy: AYO YALL GOT DISMISSED EARLY RIGHT

WANNA GET LUNCH TOGETHER

Slimecicle: who’s yall

Skeppy: ANYONE WHO WANTS TO JOIN

Fundy: more important question is who’s buying

Skeppy: CHARLIE

Fundy: COUNT ME THE  F U C K  IN

LFGGGGGGGGGG ORDER THE WHOLE FUCKING MENU

Skeppy: HAHA AYYYYYYYYY

Slimecicle: SKEPPY WHY

WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS

WHY WOULD YOU DESTROY ME

Skeppy: L

NOW GET OUT UR WALLET MF

Slimecicle: SCREW YOU ZAK

--------

Wilbur had learned, through the years, that dead silence was not a good thing to wake up to. 

When he woke up on normal days, he woke to the twittering of birds and the ringing of his alarm (By the Seaside courtesy of Apple ringtones) on a cheery, obnoxious loop. These sounds were indications of normalcy. They were grounding for him. Dead silence reminded him of the past, of white rooms and pain and the familiar pins-and-needles sensation of an anxiety attack washing over him like a tsunami. Dead silence was an alarm, stronger than the school bell and By the Seaside, wailing loud in his ears to signify the arrival of his personal reckoning.

Wilbur jackknifed upward, gasping for air. He was shaking and his head hurt so badly that he barely managed to stay upright, panting and dishevelled. The room he was in was a soft pastel yellow, the same colour of one of Wilbur’s favourite sweaters, and by his side on a mahogany table sat a vase of flowers. 

Wilbur stared at them for a moment, trying to slow his racing heart. He was so sure he’d seen those flowers before. He knew this place; it was the school’s sick bay. It wasn’t the first time he’d been here, and each visit always had his group of closest friends leave with sadness in their tired eyes.

His heart leapt into his throat. Wilbur ripped the sheets from his body in a frantic stupor. He didn’t want to see them sad again because of him. The marble floor was cold even though Wilbur had his socks on, but he gritted his teeth against the massive shiver that shot up his spine and snatched his beanie from the nearby table.

He could already see their faces: Techno’s quiet disappointment, Tommy’s childish devastation, Phil’s fatherly pity- and Wilbur gagged violently, nausea swamping him. He slammed a hand against his lips, desperately fumbling for the door handle. 

God help him if he made his closest friends hurt again after all they had done for him.

When he finally found the handle, he wrenched it open with a burst of relief and stumbled out into the main room. By the time he realised that all three of his friends were sitting there waiting and talking, it was too late. All his hope left him the moment Techno’s, Tommy’s and Phil’s eyes fell upon him at the exact same time. And they were exactly how he imagined: filled with sorrow, fear and worry.

Wilbur felt like he’d been punched in the gut. For one insanity-filled moment he contemplated dashing back into the room and slamming the door shut behind him, but his legs gave way before he could process what he truly wanted to do. Soon after that went the self-control as Wilbur began sobbing silently into his hands.

He felt so infinitely worthless, the sight of his closest friends’ sadness haunting his memory as though someone had taken a Techno-Tommy-Phil shaped brand and pressed the hot iron to his skin. He barely heard their voice, overwhelmed by shame and guilt even though he could not for the life of him remember what had happened leading up to this.

“Is he okay?” he heard a female voice ask, distant and faraway. 

She was quickly assuaged by Techno’s calm baritone that yes, he would be alright, and in good hands. Then he felt fingers, too youthful for Phil’s and too spastic for Techno’s, trying to pry his hands from his face. Wilbur kept his hands glued firmly to his tear-stained cheeks, fighting against Tommy’s valiant attempts to remove them.

Something primal in him was screaming in absolute terror at the thought of anyone seeing him vulnerable and broken. Phil, he knew, was wrapped around him in a gigantic bear hug that would’ve normally reduced him into a very happy puddle of soup. But now, the weight of Phil leaning against him was just another reminder that Phil was here and not at work and it was all his fault.

“Wil,” he heard Tommy call. “Wil, it’s okay, Wil-”

Without thinking, he reached out with clawed fingers, swiping like a feral animal. He screeched when Phil grabbed his arm, feeling the headache throbbing in his skull as he lurched backward. Then more hands were on him, and Techno’s voice was deep and low in his ears. Wilbur blinked and watched his vision glaze over gradually, the faces of those who mattered most to him turning into unrecognisable blobs, an unspeakable anguish curling within his stomach like a viper. He wanted to yell, to hit something, to tear at his hair until he ripped clumps out of his scalp, but there were weights on him everywhere and Wilbur let out a hoarse yelp when Phil picked him up bridal style, lifting him into the air.

“We’ll take care of him from here,” he heard Phil tell someone. “He’s just disoriented, don’t worry.”

Wilbur’s brain didn’t register the journey from their school back to Techno and Tommy’s dorm room. He simply felt the familiarity of the furniture, the unique way the door creaked as Techno unlocked it to let them in, the homely scent of tidy bookshelves and neatly-done laundry. He’d been here before, so many times that his head just instinctively knew that he was in a safe place, and with that realisation came an instant relaxation of his previously tense limbs.

He let himself be put down on the couch without protest, feeling completely drained. He didn’t even have the energy to cry, and he felt like if he so much as slightly loosened his grip on his beanie it would slip from his grasp and never be seen again. The soft fabric against his skin was his only reprieve from the dizzying horror that was reality, keeping him anchored to the present.

Wilbur didn’t know whether to be thankful or hateful of it.

Then Phil was returning with a blanket, draping it over Wilbur’s body. Techno placed a pillow under his head, and Tommy set down a cup of warm water onto the glass table. Then they all stood around him, just looking down at him. Their emotions were anyone’s guess, but Wilbur could feel the self-hatred grow stronger the more he felt them stare.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to mumble, delirious by this point. His head was spinning, and guilt sat heavy like stones in his diaphragm. But he felt warm and taken care of, better than he’d felt in quite some time. He drifted off before he ever heard any of them answer.

--------

FRIENDS

     > #general

clay: yo are yall actually having lunch using charlie’s money

Slimecicle: i didn’t consent to this

Skeppy: CHARLIE <<3

THANK U FOR THE MEAL LOL

Slimecicle: clay u are the server owner

i’m getting cyberbullied are u not gonna do anything about it

clay: only thing i regret is not having been here when they had the initial idea to make you buy lunch

Slimecicle: WOW

can i get a new group of friends

is there a friend exchange

Technoblade: no

otherwise i would’ve already exchanged tommy

BIG TOMMY: HEY

clay: ay u guys are back!

how’s wilbur?

Technoblade: it’s a very long story

he was in the lab during the fire

clay: SHIT

is he ok???

Technoblade: well

it’s really up to him to decide whether or not he wants to tell you guys his story

you know

sorry i can’t say much

clay: oh yeah no worries

but he’s not injured or burnt is he?

Technoblade: no no he’s all good

clay: okay thank fuck

Slimecicle: shit wilbur :((

i’d rather buy him lunch anyday over fucking zak and floris

Fundy: i genuinely hope wilbur’s okay

but i’m showing no fucking mercy to charlie

let’s order another set of breaded prawns those were so good

Slimecicle: IT’S THIRTY-SEVEN DOLLARS

DONT YOU FUCKING DARE

Minx: focking cunts where was my invite to this lunch

Slimecicle: fuck off minx

u fucking suck

Minx: watch your mouth you fucking idiotic american bozo

i’ll curb stomp you, bitch

clay: we should have a role for forcing someone to pay for meals

and when it happens everyone with the role gets pinged

so we can all benefit from this person’s suffering

Slimecicle: they said the devil would be attractive

Fundy: AYO

U REALLY DID CLAY LIKE THAT HUH

clay: .

Fundy: clay.exe has stopped working

clay: .asfklsd.jda

Fundy: gg lads

Chapter Text

When Wilbur woke, the television was on in the background. He heard a male voice commentating, so it was probably Phil watching some obscure football match he’d come across while flicking through the channels.

He laid there for another five minutes, pondering about what he should do. He barely remembered the incident in the sick bay, but he knew he’d lashed out. Wilbur hated talking about his breakdowns. He hated them even more when he knew he’d done some stupid shit while not fully conscious. Vaguely, he could remember clawing at Tommy, one of his best friends, someone that had only been trying to help him. Wilbur considered closing his eyes and just going back to sleep. It seemed like too much for him to deal with, and he didn’t want to see that shadowy sadness clouding the eyes of people he knew too well. He was a runner. He ran from his problems - especially emotional ones.

But then he heard Phil sigh, and then something was being put down on the table, like a can against glass. Wilbur was turning around before he fully computed what he was doing.

“You’re drinking again,” he said hoarsely.

Phil jumped, fumbling with the remote and barely catching it before it clattered to the floor. “Jesus Christ,” he gasped. “Give me a warning, hey.”

Wilbur just blinked at him slowly. “You promised us you’d stop drinking.”

“I know,” Phil replied. He sounded oddly defeated. He never sounded defeated; only humorous and full of life. 

Wilbur watched as he reached for the can of Hennessy again, and this time, something visceral within him set off like a chain reaction. He was springing off the sofa and snatching the can away before he could think, holding it away from Phil.

Phil merely regarded him with eyes that were far too tired to be healthy and exhaled, leaning back into the couch. Wilbur stared incredulously as he didn’t fight. Usually Phil fought - but gently, with kindness and respect - and yet, here he was, giving up, crumpling like a house of cards.

He must’ve made a sound of distress, because Phil glanced up at him briefly before patting the space next to him. “Sit down, Wil,” he murmured, the rasp of his voice evident.

Wilbur sat down in a daze. He put the beer back onto the table and leaned back into the couch, watching soccer players dressed in two different colours run back and forth across a field. He wasn’t sure how long they sat there in silence, just staring sightlessly at a program neither of them were paying attention to, but when Phil finally spoke Wilbur’s legs were growing stiff.

“How are you, Wil?” he asked.

“Alright,” Wilbur said.

Phil eyed him, and it was clear that he didn’t believe Wilbur one bit. But he said nothing, shifting a little and directing his attention back to the television screen. “There was a fire in school today, Wil,” he said slowly. “Do you remember?”

Wilbur stared at him. “What?” Then he was tugging his phone desperately out of his pocket, opening Discord.

The next thing he knew, Phil was reaching for his phone, wrenching it from his grasp with a force that was uncharacteristic of him. Wilbur’s shock left him in a small gasp, and for the next five seconds all he could do was gaze bewilderedly at Phil, completely taken aback.

“Give my phone back,” he finally managed to say, trying to take it from Phil’s hand.

Phil just held it stubbornly out of reach. “Wil,” he said evenly. There was something in his voice that reminded Wilbur of asphalt and concrete. “Listen to me.”

“What about everyone else? Tubbo, Jack, George, Clay? Fundy and Charlie and Niki and Minx?” Wilbur rose agitatedly. “I have to know if they’re okay.”

“They’re okay, Wil.”

“Then give me my phone!”

Phil was stronger, but Wilbur was faster, and he snatched his phone from Phil’s hands before the elder could reply. From there he was feverishly scrolling through Discord, trying to find any evidence of messages that signified that his friends were safe, scanning entire conversations and channels. But they seemed fine, joking and laughing and making fun of Charlie having to pay for lunch, and Wilbur was almost about to allow his lips to curve into a smile of violent relief when he checked their server - the server for just him, Techno, Tommy and Phil - and saw a series of messages that he had supposedly sent.

With each one, Wilbur felt something in him expire. He was wobbling only halfway through, catching himself on the wall as Phil sprung up from the couch to grab onto him. He was murmuring soft things into Wilbur’s ears that seemed to meld into an ocean of soothing baritone, and Wilbur allowed himself to be held for a moment as the reality of what had happened set in.

He’d not been in his own body for hours again. He’d worried his whole family again. Wilbur went back to reading the messages he’d sent, feeling goosebumps rise on his skin. It didn’t sound like him. He never typed with proper punctuation - he wasn’t pedantic enough to do that. And yet the words, carefully selected and conveyed with ruthless purpose, weren’t as foreign as Wilbur desperately wanted to believe they were.

When he reached the top (or the end?) of the channel Wilbur let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. It emerged in the exact opposite way he wanted it to: a wretched sob originating from the depths of his chest, a broken sound that no one was supposed to hear but him and his room and the empty air between them.

But Phil had heard it. Wilbur looked at him with teary eyes, alarmed that Phil would be worried, but Phil was already wrapping him in a hug because it was Phil. Of course he’d be worried. 

Wilbur stilled for a while before his hands dropped to his sides. Tears were spilling down his cheeks and he didn’t know why. He didn’t know why his chest was hurting, only that it was, so badly that it was painful to breathe - each gasp for oxygen was a dry, strained thing that rattled within his lungs.

(Of course it was Rev. Rev, the most nonchalantly cruel, the most apathetically cold, and yet also somehow the most fragile. Of course it was Rev.)

There were a lot of ‘of course’s when Wilbur paused to think. He thought that if he could identify these from miles away, he wouldn’t nearly have caused half the heartbreak he did to his pseudo-family. Of course they’d look for him. Of course they’d know when something was up. Of course they’d love him anyway.

Wilbur buried his teeth into his bottom lip, feeling shame wash over him in a tidal wave. He closed his eyes, shaking with sorrow and anguish. He didn’t feel like he deserved their love; he never did. He cherished the way Phil would smile so brightly when he brought home a good test result or the way Techno would toss him a grateful fistbump when he found out Wilbur had done the dishes in his stead: these little moments were small pieces of paper he folded neatly and tucked deep inside his heart. But as he stood there in Phil’s arms, a mistake, a miscreant, a mess, Wilbur had never felt more like a fraud.

“I’m so sorry,” he croaked. His hair was sticking to his tear-stained face, the long curls falling into his eyes and making crying a very difficult thing to do.

Phil said nothing. He just tightened his hug, and Wilbur felt his chest rise in a steady inhale. Then he let go, and the look in his eyes was something instinct only to them - it was the look of ‘we’ll talk when everyone’s together’. Wilbur understood it immediately.

“Techno and Tommy have early days tomorrow,” Phil said, making his way towards the kitchen. “So I don’t think waking them up would be very wise.”

Wilbur nodded silently, wiping tears from his cheeks.

Phil gazed at him, his lips curved into a gentle grin. “I’ll make you some milk,” he said, disappearing into the kitchen.

Wilbur wanted to say no, that it would be too much of a bother, but a heavy sense of defeat had draped itself over him like a blanket. Instead he found himself sitting back down onto the couch without protest, burying his face in his hands and leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees. The football match was still going on, the perfunctory murmuring in the background only serving to nullify any more energy Wilbur had in his body. He reached over, fumbling for the remote hidden somewhere in the velvety folds of the couch, before finding it and turning the television off.

Just as he began massaging his temples in slow, repetitive motions, the kitchen light flicked off and footsteps came towards him. Wilbur looked up wearily to see Phil holding a glass of warm milk and a plate of small biscuits, which he set down on the table in front of them.

Wilbur eyed them warily, not sure if he could stomach anything. But Phil was already reaching for a biscuit and popping it into his mouth, taking another swig from his Hennessy, and this time something in Wilbur’s gut relaxed instead of tightened. It felt familiar to him. This all felt so awfully familiar. He looked to Phil and saw not his father figure, but an adult who had stubble from not shaving and eyebags from not sleeping. He was sure if he looked in the mirror, he’d see a similar sight: eyes filled with fatigue, chapped lips from dehydration and constant gnawing - they were both worn down, and this was a temporary respite from everything else that they had been going through.

Wilbur could afford himself this mercy.

He took the warm glass of milk from the table and drank from it, feeling the warmth settle into his limbs. It was a reminder of how much his family loved him, even if they weren’t his biological one. It was a reminder that Wilbur had people by his side; that he was no longer alone in the hellhole he’d fought so hard to crawl out of.

Phil glanced at him, winking. “Have a biscuit,” he said, gesturing to the plate. “Can’t finish them all by myself, mate.”

Wilbur smiled back, no longer feeling the tenseness radiate through him in the form of stifling indecision. “Thanks, Phil,” he replied softly. He took one of the light-brown biscuits with cream in the middle despite his dimmer sense of taste, aware of how Phil’s gaze followed him without faltering. It wasn’t a formality; Wilbur took the biscuit out of a strange desire to, a strange desire that he was sure had originated from him. It was just all so comforting: the silence of Techno’s and Tommy’s shared dorm, the wind sweeping the curtains from their places, and the way Phil’s eyes were so fond as they looked at him.

The biscuit melted on his tongue. Wilbur had never been able to taste much, but he was certain that this was possibly the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.

--------

OHANA

     > #general

Ph1LzA: @Technoblade @BIG TOMMY I left Wil on the couch, he said he was comfortable sleeping there

Had to leave because I have work early tomorrow

Please take care of Wil

Oh and Wil and I had a talk, don’t worry, we’ll all need to come together but for now we’re good so focus on school and don’t worry too much :)

WilburSoot: ^^

hear that?

focus on school, dickheads

Ph1LzA: Goes for you too, Wilbur

WilburSoot: suddenly i am illiterate

--------

FRIENDS

      > #science-stream

Fundy: so what exactly are these channels for again

BIG TOMMY: TO BULLY WILBUR

Fundy: don’t we do that anyway

WilburSoot: i’ll do ur mom if u don’t shut up u furry prick

Fundy: .

suddenly i agree with tommyinnit

wilbur is a menace and he must be stopped

BIG TOMMY: WILBUR

U DIDNT BRING UR COAT TO SCHOOL TODAY

U BIG DUMBASS

WilburSoot: oh shit

Technoblade: do you not have four lectures back to back in the hall?

it’s freezing in there wilbur

goodbye it was nice knowing you

WilburSoot: goodbye techno

o7

i gratefully leave tommy to you

he’s quite the brat

i wish you the best of luck, comrade

Technoblade: o7

will do

BIG TOMMY: WHAT

Slimecicle: tommy really be like a will except instead of everyone wanting what’s in it they hate it and toss it around to each other like a game of hot potato in an effort to avoid ending up with him

WilburSoot: agreed

when i die all of you will be fighting each other to not have custody of tommy

BIG TOMMY: YOU DONT EVEN HAVE CUSTODY OF ME NOW

WilburSoot: murder exists tommy

Technoblade: turn him into an orphan child

clay: holy shit

this server is meant for school my guy

not for planning black market deals

WilburSoot: we never discussed organ dealing

only murder

clay: ‘only murder’

ok

BIG TOMMY: WE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE PLANNING TO DESTROY WILBUR

WHY AM I BEING BULLIED NOW

Technoblade: ah how the turns have tabled

BIG TOMMY: THIS IS NOT WHAT THE SCIENCE STREAM CHANNEL WAS MADE FOR

TECHNOBLADE WE ARE COMRADES

BROTHERS IN ARMS

AND YET YOU JOIN FORCES WITH OUR MORTAL ENEMY WILBUR SOOT????

TRAITOR

Technoblade: i join forces with whichever side entertains me more tommy

BIG TOMMY: .

THIS IS NOT OKAY

WilburSoot: sorry tommy

i’m just funnier than you

BIG TOMMY: NO YOU ARE NOT.

I AM A BIG, FUNNY MAN

tubbo_: you’re the youngest here

BIG TOMMY: SHUT UP TUBBO

WilburSoot: idk man

6 feet not looking very big to me

right techno

Technoblade: absolutely miniscule

BIG TOMMY: AY FUCK YOU

HOW ABOUT U SHIT ON NIKI INSTEAD

WilburSoot: niki is too good for us

she is so much better than you

what she lacks in height she makes up for in heart

niki: aw wil! <3

thank you!

WilburSoot: of course niki :>

BIG TOMMY: I AM

DISGUSTED

Technoblade: imagine simping for a woman

WilburSoot: it’s just the truth

it’s not gender-based

like idc if it’s tommy or minx they can both go fuck themselves

but niki? she’s too precious

Minx: HELLO????

YOU LANKY FUCK

I’LL FOCKING SHIT DOWN YOUR THROAT

WilburSoot: oh no please don’t do that minx

ur asshole physically can’t even reach my shoulders

but oh no please don’t do that

Minx: i’ll break your motherfocking knees

WilburSoot: should’ve chosen my ankles tbh

you might have to tiptoe a bit for the knees

Slimecicle: YOO

i thought cyberbullying wasn’t allowed here

WilburSoot: it isn’t

but i’m a dirty crime boy

Chapter Text

FRIENDS

     > #general

Slimecicle: so

how we feeling about the maths diagnostic bois

WilburSoot: L

imagine being a year two

BIG TOMMY: L

Slimecicle: stfu

if u have the privilege of not knowing this pain then keep ur mouth shut

or i’ll staple it shut for u

WilburSoot: oh yes pls staple tommy’s

i’ve been considering it for a long while

BIG TOMMY: HEY

Fundy: im so fucked

i haven’t got a single clue how indices work

dude my teacher asked me to come up to the board and show how to differentiate the other day and i still have ptsd

Slimecicle: shit

did u actually solve it though

Fundy: it took me five whole minutes for a three-mark question

i stood there like a dumbass because my anxiety made me forget everything

Slimecicle: dude

my guy

tell your counsellor about this

Fundy: gonna go visit the school counsellor

“oh what are you here for?”

“your fucking syllabus madam”

BIG TOMMY: LOL

Slimecicle: don’t laugh tommy

next year you’ll know our pain

Technoblade: it’ll be ok

just remember your laws of logarithms and indices

and chain rule

and product/quotient rules

Slimecicle: techno shut up

we know you’ve already read ahead to the year three syllabus like a tryhard

Technoblade: sometimes it’s tough being the best

Fundy: this is like

5% of our grade right

Slimecicle: yeah

Fundy: fuckfuckfuckfuck

niki: good luck everyone! ^-^)/

we can do this!!

Slimecicle: no, niki, i in fact cannot do this

appreciate the unfounded confidence though

clay: you’ll be alright man

don’t panic

as soon as you get the paper immediately vomit all your formulas onto some obscure corner so u won’t forget them

Fundy: yeah but u know those five minutes when the invigilator is going through to see if u have the right amount of printed pages

i spend that time quietly losing my shit

so by the time the paper actually starts my mind is empty

clay: i used to have that problem too

then i tried to calm down and do some breathing

maybe you should try bringing like a stress ball in or smth

Fundy: wait we are allowed to bring stuff in?

clay: yeah as long as it’s not like devices or notes or stuff u can use to cheat

Slimecicle: FUCK YEAH I’M BRINGING IN A DILDO

WilburSoot: charlie

we’ve talked about this

Slimecicle: science has proven that you are more relaxed post-orgasm wilbur

if i cum

will i remember my formulas

Fundy: this is cursed

WilburSoot: “if i cum will i remember my formulas” - charlie slimecicle

motherfucker really ain’t thinking before he speaking

Skeppy: IM DONE FOR HAHAH BYE GUYS

Fundy: same skeppy

Skeppy: I DIDNT STUDY AT ALL

LMAO

Fundy: wait

what

really?

Skeppy: YEAH

I WAS PLAYING VIDEO GAMES

Fundy: holy shit

balls of steel

skeppy this is 5% of our grade

Technoblade: skeppy

Skeppy: TECHNO DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT

Technoblade: do i need to come over to tutor you again skeppy

Skeppy: NO PLEASE DONT

Eret: Guys, it’ll be fine

Remember your formulas and you’re good to go!

Slimecicle: fucks sake

when will i ever have to use this when i grow up huh

“yes i’d like dy over dx ln6^3 apples please thank you”

Technoblade: see

where u went wrong was when you asked

just take the apples and run as fast as you can

Slimecicle: WHAT

Technoblade: it’s not a crime if you don’t get caught

Slimecicle: .

techno

they’re APPLES

i ain’t getting my ass put in jail over apples

Fundy: u know hearing that from techno makes me worry about what other things we don’t know about him

like what if he’s a serial killer

but a very good one

Technoblade: i guess some doors will never be opened fundy

Fundy: ur joking me

stop

this fear-inducing environment is not good for memorising formulas techno

Technoblade: u better learn those formulas fundy

U BETTER LEARN THOSE FORMULAS OR I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’LL DO TO YOU

U BETTER LEARN RIGHT THIS INSTANT

OR YOU SHOULD SLEEP WITH ONE EYE OPEN TONIGHT

U BETTER LEARN YOUR FORMULAS

thank you.

Fundy: .

Slimecicle: shitting and crying rn what is this

WilburSoot: it’s called having a gun when nobody else does

Technoblade: wilbur gets me

WilburSoot: only because i don’t have formulas to learn techno

or i’d be whining your ears off right alongside these two

Technoblade: fair enough

Fundy: bro

i’m actually terrified

Technoblade: you should be

--------

OHANA

     > #reminders

Ph1LzA: @WilburSoot @BIG TOMMY @Technoblade Dorm room for dinner & talk tonight 7:30pm don’t be late

Technoblade: yessir

BIG TOMMY: YES DAD

WilburSoot: no

Ph1LzA: If we finish early we can play a game of Monopoly

WilburSoot: DEAL

Technoblade: he really is a one-trick pony

--------

FRIENDS

     > #general

Fundy: dude charlie i saw u hyperventilating across the hall

Slimecicle: i dont wanna talk about it

stupid fucking maths department

Fundy: how many fucking exponential graphs were they gonna ask us to draw

i spent more time on those curves than every woman i’ve ever met combined

Slimecicle: u want to know why i’m so fucked fundy?

i didn’t bring my curved ruler

Fundy: wait really

how did u draw the graphs then

Slimecicle: straight ruler + freehand

i don’t want to talk about it

Fundy: holy shit

Technoblade: rookie mistake man

who forgets their curved ruler

Slimecicle: SHUT UP TECHNOBLADE

Technoblade: just sayin’

Skeppy: ok but WHAT DID YALL PUT FOR THE LAST QUESTION

Technoblade: x = -3.719, y = 2

Slimecicle: ^^ idk how he remembers the exact value but i’m pretty sure that’s what i got too

Fundy: ^^ same

Skeppy: FUCK

Technoblade: skeppy

Skeppy: DONT LSOOK AT ME LIKE THAT TEHCNO

I DIDNT KNOW WAHT TO DO

Technoblade: what did you get

Skeppy: .

x = -65.434

i didn’t have a y value

Technoblade: skeppy

they said find the coordinates of the point

there’s supposed to be an x and y value

Skeppy: I KNOW NOW

THANKS

Technoblade: …yeah let’s start the tutoring again

Skeppy: NO

Fundy: look on the bright side at least his x value is negative

he got one thing right

Skeppy: FUCK OFF FUNDY

Fundy: gladly

i don’t want to look at another graph for the next five days

if i see an exponential equation i will actually explode

Slimecicle: thank god it’s a fucking friday

halle-fucking-lujah

WilburSoot: quote book

• “if i cum will i remember my formulas”
• “halle-fucking-lujah”

Slimecicle: thank you thank you

i’ll be here all night

--------

Wilbur stood outside the lift with his messenger bag on one shoulder, chewing at the inside of his cheek. He had been psyching himself up to face Phil, Techno and Tommy throughout the whole day, preparing elaborate explanations and apologies in his head instead of paying attention to the lecture about the loop of Henle, but now that it was finally time to actually do it, his previous bravado had vanished.

It wasn’t about them. It was about him, because Wilbur was so afraid that he’d break down in front of them under the pressure of it all. He knew they would be kind. He knew they would love him. But that made it hurt even more. He didn’t want to be pitied and babied. He just wanted quiet understanding and… maybe a quick game of Monopoly.

He glanced in the direction of Techno’s and Tommy’s dorm, feeling a cold shiver pass through his entire body. God, it felt like he was about to give a speech to the whole fucking school. His legs were jelly. Wilbur took a deep breath in and tried to focus on walking in a straight line towards the slightly-ajar door, despite the fact that all of his instincts were screaming at him to turn around and run in the complete opposite direction.

It was ironic: they were his family. They were the opposite of terrifying. They loved him more than anyone else. And yet, Wilbur felt like he was walking to his own execution.

His fingers tightened around the strap of his messenger bag. Distantly, he recognised the chirping of evening birds, a common sound that students would often recognise as a second dismissal bell. As Wilbur stepped closer to the door, he heard the clanking of plates and bowls, cutlery being put down, and he was contemplating just not showing up when Tommy suddenly appeared at the doorway, sandals in one hand and a plastic bag in the other. There were remnants of a smile on his face as if he’d been laughing, but once he saw Wilbur standing there, his grin returned full-force.

“Wilbur!” he exclaimed, putting down the bag to tug Wilbur into the dorm. “Guys, Wilbur’s here.”

Wilbur let himself be dragged along. He was instantly surrounded by familiarity so strong it could’ve knocked him off his feet if it were tangible - the sounds of Phil and Techno cooking in the kitchen as Tommy messed around and tried to swap the sugar for the salt, the scent of frying vegetables and steaming rice in the air, and the sight of the neatly-set dining table, with plates and utensils for four - it was home.

It was home, more than his actual home had ever been. With three people that weren’t remotely biologically related to him, Wilbur felt safe, safer than with his own biological family.

Techno poked his head out from the kitchen. “Sit tight,” he called. “We’re just finishing up the vegetables.”

Tommy ushered him into a chair, laughing. “I may or may not have replaced the salt with pepper,” he told Wilbur, eyes gleaming as if he’d just pulled off an incredible prank. He didn’t seem to be aware of the horrors of vegetables seasoned with pepper.

“Tommy,” Wilbur said slowly, “I’ve been thinking about punting you into a lake for a long, long time, but if I taste pepper on those vegetables I might actually follow through.”

Giggling, Tommy grabbed the plastic bag from the floor, tossing his sandals down and slipping his feet into them. “Phil’s smart enough to tell it’s not salt,” he replied casually. “Be right back, gonna go throw the rubbish away.”

No sooner had he slipped out the door did Phil emerge from the kitchen, his gaze intense as he studied the living room. “Where the hell is he?” he asked, clearly referring to Tommy.

Wilbur shrugged and jabbed his thumb in the direction of the open door. “He swapped the pepper and salt, by the way.”

“Yes,” Phil said darkly. “I know.”

It was another ten minutes before dinner was ready as Phil and Techno supposedly worked to fix the mess Tommy had made, but by the time they were done, Tommy was back in the seat beside Wilbur, his face alight as he told Wilbur anecdotes from his experiences in school. Phil glared at Tommy as he set the vegetables down, and Tommy just grinned sheepishly as if grinning sheepishly would magically remove the peppery aftertaste from the dish.

“Remember what I said about tasting pepper,” Wilbur reminded him, picking up his fork.

“What did you say?” Techno asked.

“That I would punt him into a lake if I tasted pepper.” Wilbur took a tentative bite of the leaf, chewing slowly. There was a slightly spicy tinge, but Techno and Phil had done well in removing the majority of the pepper. “Luckily, Techno and Phil saved your ass, fucker.”

Tommy’s expression was shit-eating. “Told you,” he said smugly. Then he yelped as Wilbur aimed a light smack at his shoulder.

“Deserved,” Techno muttered.

Phil spooned equal amounts of rice onto their plates, and then set the remainder in the middle of the table. “Eat up, guys.”

Wilbur immediately went for some fish. He hadn’t eaten much for lunch, mainly due to the nerves in his gut. And- shit, he shouldn’t have thought about the nerves, because they redoubled back and now he felt like if he tried to chew his food he’d bite his tongue right off with how shaky he was. He snuck a furtive glance around the table, but no one seemed to be acting abnormally. Tommy was eating messily, rice grains around his mouth. Techno was taking a small drink of water. Phil was placing more vegetables onto Tommy’s plate. Wilbur stared down at his own food, unable to rationalise his fear. Why was he so scared? Why was he so nervous? Why did he feel like if they so much as pricked him the wrong way, he’d deflate like a balloon?

It was the anticipation that was killing him. Wilbur inhaled deeply and ate another spoonful of rice and fish.

“How was the diagnostic, Techno?”

Wilbur jumped so violently he sprayed rice halfway across the table. He was scrambling to wipe the mess up before he knew it, working on panicked autopilot and desperately trying to ignore the looks of concern thrown his way.

“Sorry,” he rasped, folding the tissue and stuffing it under his plate. “Wasn’t paying attention.”

Techno raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t probe further. Wilbur was extremely grateful for that. “Yeah, it was pretty alright,” he replied. “Lots of exponentials. Something about stationary points, and algebraic manipulation, but it wasn’t really that bad.”

Phil laughed. “Good, because from the way Fundy and Charlie were planning their own funerals, I had a different impression.”

“They’re both clowns. Luckily for you, I’m a maths nerd.”

“You’re just a nerd in general,” Tommy cut in.

Techno stared at him with a deadpan look in his eyes. “Yes, Tommy,” he said. “I apologise for taking interest in unorthodox subjects.”

Tommy grumbled and repeated that he was a nerd and needed to get a girlfriend, at which point Phil apparently decided they were done stalling.

“Wilbur,” he said, and Wilbur’s stomach dropped.

“Yeah?” He was trying to act casual, but his voice wavered. Wilbur wanted to slap himself.

Phil sighed. “About last week-”

“I’m sorry,” Wilbur cut him off, a frantic terror taking hold of him. His hands were so cold. “I know there was a fire, and I wasn’t there, and I worried all of you. It won’t happen again.”

“It will,” Techno stated. It wasn’t something that sounded like there was any room for debate. It was simply a fact.

Wilbur swallowed painfully, feeling his head spin. He shovelled more rice into his mouth in the hopes that if he was chewing, they’d spare him from the agony of having to talk.

“Wilbur,” Phil started, “if we’re going to be in this server, you’ve got to learn to trust them. You know them, yeah? It’s not like they’re new people. You know them.”

“I do,” Wilbur said. “But I don’t know them. I don’t know them like… like I know you guys.” More rice in mouth. He didn’t want to talk. He desperately wanted to disappear into the ground and never show himself again.

The eldest sighed, running a hand through his short blonde hair. “They care about you,” he said. “They’re good people. And I’m sure if they knew, they’d support you nonetheless.”

“Not even Niki knows. Only the three of you. Only the three of you know I’m mentally fucked up, and the whole reason why I know I’m mentally fucked up is because you guys told me I was. And I’m going to therapy. I don’t need more people knowing.”

“But you do,” Tommy said softly. “You could always use more people.”

Wilbur turned on him, perhaps a little harshly. “And those people could always use me.” He set his fork down. “And I don’t mean in a friendly way.”

Techno’s eyebrows furrowed. “Just because someone has hurt you before doesn’t mean everyone else will.”

“If you tripped over a curb and fell on your ass in front of everyone, would you be apprehensive each time you approached that curb from then on?” Wilbur shot back. “It’s not that they’ll hurt me. It’s that they could hurt me. It fucking scares me.”

There was a momentary silence of nothing but eating and chewing. Wilbur closed his eyes, putting his hands over his face. He knew this wouldn’t turn out well because of how prickly he was - it was a wonder he’d even tried to be optimistic in the first place. No, he was far too sensitive, too skittish, too ready to defend himself with claws and jaws if he had to. They were just trying to help him, and yet, here he was, snapping back at them and making it harder than it had to be.

“I know you’re scared,” he heard Phil say evenly. “We all are. We’re scared that you’ll end up hurt again, Wilbur, just when we’ve managed to put that spark back in your eyes. You’re barely alive again; just barely. And we don’t want to see you broken and shattered again. We promised you we’d protect you.”

Wilbur shook his head, a muffled sound coming from him against his will. His thoughts were all fuzzy.

“Even if you’re scared of them, we know some of those people in there very well,” Phil continued. “Techno’s known Skeppy since primary school, and Tommy and Tubbo are childhood friends. They’re good people. That’s why they’ve stuck around for so long. Techno would’ve ditched anyone remotely toxic a long time ago.”

“Are you saying that I wouldn’t?” Tommy asked, affronted.

Phil just shrugged, slipping him a wry grin. “There was that kid in elementary you thought was really cool, and he turned out to be the biggest bully-”

“Okay!” Wilbur could hear the embarrassment in Tommy’s voice without having to uncover his eyes.

Techno laughed in his monotone and humorous way, a rumbling sound that comforted him so much. Wilbur’s chest ached. He wanted to be able to trust them. But he was so, so terrified. He was so terrified of betrayal, of abandonment - but if he didn’t do it, would they be angry with him? Would they leave him?

The logical part of his brain said that he was being an idiot. Unfortunately, during emotional periods, the logical part of his brain might as well not exist.

“Wil,” Phil said.

Wilbur stood, pushing back his chair.

Immediately, Techno, Tommy and Phil were standing with him. It was clear that they weren’t about to let him run away. “Wilbur,” Techno said warningly.

The look in their eyes made Wilbur sink back down, overwhelmed. He wanted to be able to say something that would satisfy both them and himself, but his throat was dry as if he’d swallowed a mouthful of sand. He tried to articulate his thoughts, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out.

“You don’t have to speak, Wilbur,” Phil said kindly, clearly privy to Wilbur’s struggle. “Just listen.”

Just listen. Wilbur breathed in deep and scrubbed his face with his hands. He could do that.

“We’d never force you,” Phil said. “We’re just giving you advice, and if you really feel like you’re not ready, that’s alright. We just- just wanted to check up on you, Will. How has school been? How has your sleep been? How has Rev been? What about Ghost, Friend, I. Fakier and R. Fakier?”

“I hate them,” Wilbur said bluntly. His voice failed to convey any of the cold distaste he had brewing in his gut, only the sullen apathy that now shrouded his thoughts.

Phil placed a hand on his thigh. “Wilbur, you’re going to be okay.”

He laughed. It was slightly maniacal. Tommy flinched out of the corner of his eye.

“Do they still try to interact with you?”

Wilbur stared up at the ceiling, suddenly drained. “Sure,” he said tiredly. “Sometimes.”

It was true. He heard them from time to time, a running commentary in his head. For the longest time he’d mistaken them for imaginary friends, for those foolish childhood things he must’ve come up with when he was younger. But when his memory started to go in vaster and vaster chunks, they’d driven him to see a therapist. It was then that Wilbur was introduced to the idea that he had dissociative identity disorder.

From then on, his life had changed forever.

Phil’s hand began small, careful ministrations, trying to soothe him. “We’re just trying to say that no matter what, we’ll be here for you,” he murmured. “And there’s no pressure in telling them. We’re just worried if they find out when you’re not ready.”

“I know,” Wilbur said.

“You know we love you.”

“I do.”

“So please don’t look so scared around us anymore, Wil. We’re not here to embarrass you. We wanted to have a talk to settle things. I would’ve done the same had anything substantial happened to Tommy or Techno.”

Wilbur nodded again. He knew it was family tradition for them. But when it did happen it somehow was always because of him, and he was sick of it.

Phil’s hand lifted from his thigh. The loss of contact made his skin burn even through the sweatpants he was wearing, and Wilbur struggled to blink away a sudden urge to cry. It felt awfully like Phil was about to stand up and walk away and never come back.

But instead three pairs of arms wrapped around his shoulders and waist, pulling him into a hug that was three times as warm as Phil’s. Wilbur gasped in surprise, but when he realised what they were doing for him the urge to cry overpowered his self-control. And there he was, breaking down in front of his family - doing the one thing he’d promised himself he’d never do. But it was a grateful one, a relieved, happy thing, like unravelling a ball of yarn that had been kept away in a musty drawer for too long. It was refreshing, and instead of the taunting shame he’d imagined prior, his family just pressed their bodies against his even harder, their silence stronger than any speech they could’ve made.

He didn’t know how long he cried for, only that when he finally ran out of tears, the rice had gone cold. Wilbur pulled away rather guiltily, aware that they didn’t get to enjoy much of the food before he’d gone and fucked things up. But no one seemed to mind, because Techno was helping Phil carry the used dishes to the kitchen and Tommy was bounding off to his room in that frenetic manner that reminded Wilbur so much of his youth, and he was left alone at the table.

For a quick moment he thought that was it, that the talk was over and he should be leaving now. But just as Wilbur made the decision to gather up his things, Phil reappeared. His hands were wet, as though he’d just finished doing the dishes. “Where are you going, mate?” he called.

“Back to my dorm?” Wilbur replied, the rising inflection at the end of his sentence proof of his confusion.

“Nah.” Phil waved his hand dismissively at him. “Stay, Wil. Tommy’s just got the Monopoly out.”

On cue, Tommy bounced back into the room with a red box tucked under his arm, a bright grin on his face. Wilbur watched as he stumbled over absolutely nothing in his haste to get the game set up on the floor. “Techno!” he yelled. “Come play Monopoly!”

“You sure about that, Tommy?” Techno’s monotone drifted back through the kitchen wall. “Because I’m quite sure last time I played I just repeatedly committed tax evasion until you got so mad that you straight up quit.”

“It’ll be different this time, asshole!” Tommy shouted back, a flame in his eyes as he spread out the money for four players. 

But then, as quickly as it had formed, the fire was momentarily gone as he stared up at Wilbur. Now his face was filled with nothing but childlike innocence, an expression that made Wilbur’s heart clench fondly. No matter what, Tommy would never stop being like a younger brother to him. 

“Will you stay, Wilbur?” he asked, the hope in his voice as clear as glass. “For Monopoly? Just a while?”

Wilbur glanced at Phil, who returned his gaze with a shrug and a knowing smile as if to say ‘you can’t deny him that’ . And he was very right: with those big eyes and enthusiastic grin, Wilbur couldn’t physically restrain himself. He was sliding off his messenger bag before he knew it, settling onto the floor.

“Just a while,” he agreed, happiness blossoming in his chest. “And don’t cry if I completely trash you, prick.”

It was not just a while - he ended up sleeping over again.

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.

Chapter Text

FRIENDS

     > #general

BIG TOMMY: YO ARE THERE RULES TO INVITING PEOPLE

clay: nope go wild

as long as they’re nice and they agree to join

don’t throw people in if they don’t wanna be here

BIG TOMMY: OH DONT WORRY HE DEFINITELY WANTS TO BE HERE

     > #hello-fuckers

→ jschlatt hopped into the server.

     > #general

jschlatt: I SMELL A CUTE BRITISH BOY

BIG TOMMY: AW THX SCHLATT

GLAD UR HERE TOO

jschlatt: IM TALKING ABOUT WILBUR

BIG TOMMY: FUCK YOU!!!!

WilburSoot: wtf

Slimecicle: wtf

WilburSoot: who tf invited schlatt

BIG TOMMY: I DID

WilburSoot: this is why i hate you

Fundy: yoo schlatt

clay: hello

welcome to the server

please introduce yourself in #introductions

jschlatt: ok

     > #introductions

jschlatt: hi i’m schlatt

second year here

he/him

i kinda play the cello

i’m wilbur soot’s #1 simp

WilburSoot: fuck off

Technoblade: yo wait

     > #general

Technoblade: wait schlatt are you in the school orchestra?

jschlatt: yeah why

Technoblade: YOOOOO

i’ve never met someone else in orchestra before

WilburSoot: wait

orchestra is HUGE

and you don’t know anyone there?

Technoblade: i have social anxiety

WilburSoot: jesus christ

jschlatt: are u in orchestra techno?

Technoblade: as my second co-curricular yeah

jschlatt: YO

then i’ve probably seen you before

what section are you in?

Technoblade: uhh first violins

jschlatt: oh you play the violin

that’s cool

BIG TOMMY: TECHNO IS BEING HUMBLE

Technoblade: tommy stfu

jschlatt: huh wdym

BIG TOMMY: TELL HIM TECHNO

TELL HIM HOW GOOD YOU ARE

Technoblade: no

jschlatt: ?????

WilburSoot: see schlatt

let me give you some insight into the man that is technoblade

if he isn’t stupidly good at something, he quits doing it

Technoblade: lies and slander

BIG TOMMY: HE’S THE ORCHESTRA CONCERTMASTER

jschlatt: !!!!!!!!

Technoblade: tommy why must you hurt me

BIG TOMMY: THE SCHOOL ORCHESTRA’S CONCERTMASTER IS MY BIG BROTHER

HOW COULD I NOT TELL PEOPLE

TECHNO’S SO COOL

WilburSoot: for once i agree with the gremlin child

techno you’re so talented

Technoblade: sigh

jschlatt: alex!!

you’re alex???

Technoblade: that’s my real name yeah

but techno works better i think

people call me that more

jschlatt: why

Technoblade: because that’s my minecraft username

and i carry people in bedwars/skywars a lot so

they just started calling me techno and it kinda stuck

jschlatt: carrying the orchestra AND minecraft

what a chad

suddenly i’m no longer a wilbur simp

WilburSoot: thank fuck

jschlatt: don’t lie you miss me wilbur

WilburSoot: no

no i don’t think i do

clay: YO first time i hear of this

we have the school orchestra’s concertmaster in our midst

Technoblade: oh god

tommy why have you done this

WilburSoot: u deserve it techno <3

u work really hard

Technoblade: thank you wilbur

tubbo_: THIS IS VERY POG

but are u comfy with being called alex techno?

or is techno what you prefer

Technoblade: no i don’t really mind either

it’s just that techno is more familiar to me since the only ones that call me alex are my family

everyone else calls me techno

tubbo_: oh i see

that’s so cool

BIG TOMMY: YES

MY BIG BROTHER IS SO COOL

TECHNOBLADE IS MY BIG BROTHER

WilburSoot: feeling kinda neglected over here

BIG TOMMY: FUCK U WILBUR

WilburSoot: :thumbsup:

this is fair and just treatment

no favouritism here

Technoblade: absolutely none to be found

jschlatt: wait wilbur is in the music elective

WilburSoot: yeah

jschlatt: why aren’t u in the orchestra wilbur

WilburSoot: .

motherfucker i play guitar

jschlatt: OHHH

WilburSoot: :clown:

Technoblade: i could see wilbur playing the cello

or the violin

WilburSoot: what

Technoblade: idk man just the vibes u give

you have the height and reach for cello

feel like you’d be taller than your double bass if you played one so that’s a nope

and you have nimble fingers from playing guitar so violin should be easier to grasp 

plus it’s elegant and sophisticated like you

WilburSoot: mans just went into a full-on character analysis of me

Technoblade: sorry lmao

WilburSoot: but thanks

wait

does the viola not exist in your book

Technoblade: viola

what's that

WilburSoot: damn

jschlatt: violists ain’t that bad c’mon they’re chill af

Technoblade: chilling because they have no parts

WilburSoot: ayo how about u chill

Technoblade: wish i could man

but i’m too busy worrying about my solos

jschlatt: he’s so hot owo

WilburSoot: he’s WHAT

Technoblade: sometimes it’s tough being the best

jschlatt: please sir

teach me your skills

WilburSoot: god i want to leave this was a mistake

--------

OHANA

     > #reminders

Ph1LzA: @WilburSoot Remember to book your next therapist session

& just email the bill to me 

I’ll take care of it

WilburSoot: honestly phil

i’ve been thinking of stopping therapy

Ph1LzA: ??

Technoblade: wait why

WilburSoot: it’s so expensive phil

you’re barely making ends meet over there and i don’t wanna be a burden

Ph1LzA: Oh Wil

Don’t feel like that

We all love you and want to help you

WilburSoot: this week’s session was over a hundred dollars, phil

just for the consultation and therapy session

most of which i wasn’t even there for

i just don’t think it’s worth the stress

Ph1LzA: But it helped someone, right?

WilburSoot: ,,,,i guess so???

Ph1LzA: Then that’s not a waste in my eyes.

As long as it helps

Doesn’t matter how small

It’ll always be worth it to me.

WilburSoot: phil,,,

Technoblade: we want you to get the support you need wilbur

if all else fails, i can chip in with the salary from my part-time job

WilburSoot: techno no

Technoblade: techno yes

just let me know phil

BIG TOMMY: I’LL SMASH MY PIGGYBANK

WilburSoot: guys please

i’m not worth it

please don’t force yourselves to give everything away for me

Technoblade: but you are worth it

you are one of the most important people in my life

i wouldn’t want to have anyone else by my side

BIG TOMMY: DITTO

Ph1LzA: I’m glad you’re here with us now, Wil.

WilburSoot: i love you all

i’m sorry

if you guys really want me to i’ll continue going to therapy

anything to make you guys happy

anything to make you guys smile

i love you so much

Ph1LzA: We love you too, Wilbur :)

Technoblade: <3

BIG TOMMY: I LOVE YOU WIL

BUT YOU STILL SUCK

WilburSoot: yeah

at least i’m old enough to suck loser

Technoblade: wilbur no

--------

FRIENDS

     > #hello-fuckers

→ BadBoyHalo just showed up.

→ Quackity just joined the server - glhf!

→ Everyone welcome Ranboo!

     > #general

clay: hello new people!!

Skeppy: BAD

YOU’RE HERE :DDD

BadBoyHalo: Yes!!

Ranboo: yoooooooooo

thanks for the invite @BIG TOMMY

WilburSoot: of course it was tommy

BIG TOMMY: DOING GOD’S WORK

NOW THAT WE HAVE RANBOO

THIS SERVER’S ENTERTAINMENT VALUE IS GOING TO SKYROCKET

Slimecicle: ay what u saying about us

we’re not entertaining?

WilburSoot: you entertain me just by existing tommy

today i witnessed you stub your toe and fall over while u were having a shower

BIG TOMMY: OK THAT WAS SEVEN IN THE MORNING

Fundy: ,,,we gonna ask why wilbur was watching tommy shower or??

jackmanifold: i don’t think i wanna know

hello ranboo!

WilburSoot: because this clown forgot his towel so i had to bring it in for him

and to clarify the glass door was all fogged up

i didnt see his dick

just saw a human-shaped, flesh-coloured lump fall over and release a string of extremely vulgar words

Ranboo: hello jack!

clay: introductions in #introductions pls

also oi @georgenotfound u still havent done ur introduction

georgenotfound: BRUH EVERYONE KNOWS WHO I AM

clay: mf idc it’s been weeks

get ur introduction up

or i’ll kick u

georgenotfound: i feel attacked rn

clay: no

this is your own fault

now go and do it u idiot

     > #introductions

Ranboo: hello everyone i’m ranboo!

i use he/him pronouns

i’m a first year and i play the keytar

georgenotfound: im george

he/him, third year

i’m a computer club nerd

and i’m colourblind as fuck lmao

     > #general

georgenotfound: u happy now clay

clay: yes thanks

also

ranboo u play the keytar???

sick wtf

BIG TOMMY: RANBOO IS A TALENTED MAN

Ranboo: nah i learned the piano so it came easy to me

clay: HE ALSO PLAYS THE PIANO

YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

WilburSoot: music nerds unite

BIG TOMMY: I PLAY THE PIANO

WilburSoot: music nerds except tommy unite

BIG TOMMY: WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME

Skeppy: I PLAY DRUMBS

Slimecicle: DRUMBS

DSKKDFJSFKL

Fundy: HAHAHAKJHKDAD

Skeppy: I MEANT DRUMS

Slimecicle: nah

drumbs is a better name

Technoblade: some amalgamation of drums and dumb?

Fundy: exactly

Technoblade: in conclusion, a perfect description of skeppy

Skeppy: TECHNO SHUT UP

I MISTYPED

I MEANT DRUMS

Slimecicle: no <3

Fundy: no <3

Chapter Text

FRIENDS

     > #general

Slimecicle: im so tired man

it’s only five weeks into the first term

jackmanifold: fat mood

Fundy: ok but u know how this feels like

this feels like the weekend is the shortest fucking period ever

and when monday happens i’m already ready for the weekend to come again

jackmanifold: man

Slimecicle: this sucks

i hate math

i hate everything

Fundy: im literally gonna fail

can we blow up the school

Technoblade: i like this idea

but not because i’m having trouble with studies like you nerds

because blowing up things is pog

Ph1LzA: Techno

Stop

Technoblade: phil it’s for the greater good

please understand

Slimecicle: for once fundy has a good idea

Fundy: fuck u

why am i still friends with you

Slimecicle: because u loooooooooove me <3

Fundy: no i hate u

BIG TOMMY: THIS PLAN SOUNDS POGGERS

HOW CAN I HELP

WilburSoot: by being in the school when it blows up

Slimecicle: yo??

jackmanifold: if there’s dissension within the family i recommend a therapist

Ph1LzA: Guys come on

Stop talking about blowing each other up

BIG TOMMY: WIL STARTED IT

WilburSoot: snitch

Ph1LzA: Sigh

clay: wait wait what houses are y’all in

did the year 1s get sorted yet

BIG TOMMY: YES

clay: YO

i’m in house jade

BIG TOMMY: L HOUSE

HOUSE CRIMSON FTW

jackmanifold: wtf

nah house topaz winning this year fr

clay: house topaz ain’t winning shit

just like they haven’t won for the past six years

jackmanifold: ayo shut ur mouth

Slimecicle: yooo clay

fellow house jade buddy

clay: CHARLIE!!!!

we are the superior house

WilburSoot: house sapphire is pog

Technoblade: ^^ this is true

Slimecicle: are u BOTH in house sapphire???

Technoblade: yes

Slimecicle: gg lads we lost

wilbur and techno in one house together

Ranboo: HOUSE AMETHYST!!!!!

jackmanifold: ew

fuckers got a unicorn for a mascot

Slimecicle: ikr

L mascot

jackmanifold: we got fuckin gryffins, hydras and kitsunes

then there’s amethyst like: haha horse with horn

Ranboo: how dare u insult house amethyst

jackmanifold: wat u gonna do about it big guy

Ranboo: @niki

niki: house amethyst!!!! <3

jackmanifold: .

Slimecicle: .

jackmanifold: fuck u ranboo

calling niki is cheating

niki: you guys don’t like unicorns?? :((

jackmanifold: NO NIKI WE LOVE THEM

THEY’RE WONDERFUL

niki: yay!! :DD

Ranboo: lmao get rekt

jackmanifold: this isn’t over

i’ll be back motherfucker

Minx: HOUSE JADE

NONE OF YOU CUNTS CAN COMPETE

clay: .

Slimecicle: .

minx is in house jade??

Minx: YES I AM U FOCKING CUNT

Slimecicle: ayo is it too late to change houses

MINX: WHAT

FUCK YOU CHARLIE

BIG TOMMY: HOUSE CRIMSON HAS BEEN WINNING THE HOUSE CUP

jackmanifold: ‘has been winning’ mf u only won last year’s

and that’s because no one except house crimson losers were tryhard enough to show up to participate in the swimming festival

u won off of participation points

BIG TOMMY: ,,OK BUT

WE STILL WON

Eret: To be fair, Jack, House Topaz hasn’t won a house cup in the history of this school

jackmanifold: eret

i do not see it

i have myopia

clay: we’ve won like three years in a row before last year

clearly house jade is best

WilburSoot: house sapphire over here just winning the sportsmanship award over and over

y’all can fight over the house cup and the glory

we just want the moral recognition

BIG TOMMY: ARE U GUYS A BUNCH OF GOODY-TWO-SHOES

clay: tommy house sapphire is known for being the most peaceful house in terms of achievements

they just dgaf and that’s how none of their members ever get foul strikes or conduct slips

so they win sportsmanship every year

tubbo_: house jade!!

Ph1LzA: Okay, I must say

I was in House Crimson before I graduated

And we were a bunch of enthusiastic, competitive fucks

clay: exactly

WilburSoot: eret what’s your house?

Eret: Amethyst

jackmanifold: HAH

niki: :(

jackmanifold: uh i mean what poggers house wow

nice mascot u got

neigh baby neigh

Eret: …

Okay

BIG TOMMY: YEAHHH PHIL

PHIL I’M YOUR SUCCESSOR

Ph1LzA: Yes you are, Tommy

tubbo_: feels like there are stereotypes for each house lol

clay: there are

crimson - tryhards, competitive af

jade - also kinda tryhards but more covertly/sneakily

topaz - doesn’t exist

sapphire - chillest people around

amethyst - depressed artists tired of others making fun of them

tubbo_: sounds about right

jackmanifold: WE FUCKING EXIST??? HELLO????

clay: nah

tf even is ur motto

smth about fortune

jackmanifold: FORTUNE CALLS TO THOSE WHO HONOUR THEMSELVES

clay: that’s it

kinda shit motto if u ask me

BIG TOMMY: I REMEMBER OURS

VICTORS EMERGE FROM THE STRONGEST FLAMES

Slimecicle: that sounds,,,

tryhard af

Technoblade: topaz’s is fortuna eos qui se honorant

crimson’s is victores e flammarum fortissimis

jade’s is virtus in animis multorum

jackmanifold: ,,how do u know the latin versions wtf

Technoblade: they’re the ones on the house banners

but no one knows them

jackmanifold: bruh

BIG TOMMY: WHAT DOES JADE’S ONE MEAN

Technoblade: virtue lies in the minds of the many

BIG TOMMY: WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

Technoblade: something about the importance of unity?

that’s one of jade’s values

the other being resilience

Slimecicle: good values

not cliche

unlike some house with bravery and candour

BIG TOMMY: HEY

HOUSE CRIMSON HAS GREAT VALUES

Slimecicle: yeah man where have i ever heard those before

Technoblade: you see phil

if we blow up the school, there won’t be houses left to fight over the house cup

Ph1LzA: No

WilburSoot: sapphire is just the best house in every way

y’all sat there fighting and we just sip tea and farm Ws anyway

Technoblade: don’t even have to do anything because the other houses just screw up and donate the sportsmanship award to us

WilburSoot: ikr ez clap

like why are u guys still fighting

the best strat is just to not do anything

then u won’t have someone from ur house tripping someone else during the house relays and getting your house points deducted

BIG TOMMY: SOMEONE TRIPPED SOMEONE???

WilburSoot: someone from house jade tripped a house crimson runner a few years back

not a good idea when the whole school’s watching

BIG TOMMY: DID HOUSE JADE STILL WIN??

WilburSoot: nah house crimson won that year

tbh it wouldn’t have mattered if jade tripped them or not because crimson had the fattest lead and they’d pretty much already won the house cup

so it was kind of a dumbass move

BIG TOMMY: AYO SEE

WE MAY BE PROUD AND COMPETITIVE BUT WE AINT GOING AROUND CHEATING

Technoblade: a house crimson runner stumbled into the path of house jade’s runner before

it apparently looked like an accident to the people who saw it but house jade people are adamant that it’s a foul

to this day we still don’t know

Slimecicle: this is beginning to sound awfully like the plot of a very well-known book series

like,,, red house vs green house whilst the other houses just don’t exist?

Technoblade: i mean

house amethyst and house sapphire do

it’s just house topaz that doesn’t

jackmanifold: TECHNOBLADE

I HOPE YOU STUB YOUR TOE YOU MOTHERFUCKER

Technoblade: it’s the truth

at least house amethyst is full of artists and creative people and they win the art competitions all the time

but house topaz,, just hasn’t won anything

you can’t say that’s false

Quackity: what's this about houses

BIG TOMMY: WHAT HOUSE ARE U FROM BIG Q

Quackity: topaz

why?

BIG TOMMY: OH

OH NO

clay: wait what are topaz’s values?

Technoblade: pride and honour

clay: tbh kitsune is really cool

like ninetales from pokemon

jackmanifold: yeah and the best part is it aint a fuckin unicorn

niki: :((

jackmanifold: GODDAMMIT NIKI STOP POPPING BACK IN EACH TIME I INSULT UR HOUSE

Ranboo: she has the spidey-senses

whenever someone talks shit

she knows

jackmanifold: >_>

clay: amethyst is creativity and?

Technoblade: honesty

sapphire’s is kindness and humility

clay: ic

i do remember really liking sapphire’s and amethyst’s mottos

Technoblade: yeah i think we and amethyst have the most meaningful mottos

BIG TOMMY: WHAT ARE THEY

Technoblade: sapphire’s is misericors alas dictat astra

which means merciful wings dictate the stars

amethyst’s is verus spiritus gignit mutationem

meaning true inspiration creates change

clay: yeah those are good mottos

not saying ours is bad

WilburSoot: yours is kinda bad

clay: don’t take advantage of my kindness wilbur

WilburSoot: you shouldn’t have been kind in the first place fucker

clay: .

Slimecicle: CLAY DSFDSJKLFJDKS

clay: i have no choice but to resort to violence

Slimecicle: MF CHANGED THE SERVER NAME KEKW

clay: hope u guys all blow up

especially u wilbur

WilburSoot: blow me up then

c’est la vie, compatriot

sapphire still winning sportsmanship lmao

clay: .

i hate you

--------

OHANA

     > #general

Ph1LzA: How are preparations for your exams going?

WilburSoot: pretty shit

Technoblade: alright i guess

Ph1LzA: Wilbur do you need support?

Remember you can always ask your teachers for help

WilburSoot: i’m not sure if i can

they don’t know about my condition

i don’t want them to like,, pick up on anything

Ph1LzA: How about classmates?

Technoblade: wilbur if you need help i can try to help

i think i know the y3 content well enough

WilburSoot: techno i don’t wanna bother you

Technoblade: it’s all good

i’m not having issues with y2 so i have time to spare

BIG TOMMY: I AM GOING TO FAIL

SORRY IN ADVANCE PHIL

WilburSoot: lmao

Ph1LzA: Tommy are you having trouble too

Ask your teachers please.

BIG TOMMY: NO

THEY HATE ME

WilburSoot: they don’t tommy

BIG TOMMY: YES THEY DO

THEY SAY I’M HYPERACTIVE AND LOUD IN MY REPORT CARDS

Ph1LzA: Those are just observations

They don’t mean anything bad

BIG TOMMY: THEY KNOW I DON’T REALLY PAY ATTENTION IN CLASS

WilburSoot: sometimes i sleep through my classes lmao

i don’t think my teachers care or notice

Technoblade: wilbur which topics are you struggling with?

WilburSoot: uhm,,,

can you help me with maths and a bit of english?

Technoblade: sure

actually tommy do you wanna come? i can teach both of u at the same time

Ph1LzA: That’ll be really helpful, thank you Techno

Technoblade: np

BIG TOMMY: WHY

PLEASE NOT A WEEKEND

Technoblade: tommy the only time we all are free together is during the weekend

it has to be on the weekend

saturday or sunday? i’m good with either as long as they’re in the afternoon

i have orchestra rehearsal on saturday morning

WilburSoot: if we’re making this regular maybe sunday afternoon?

i’m guessing u would be tired after orchestra

Technoblade: nah i’m good on saturday if you guys are more comfortable with that

BIG TOMMY: >:(

NO

SUNDAY OR I DONT GO

TECHNO NEEDS TO REST

Technoblade: okay sunday

Ph1LzA: Cool, Sunday afternoon it is

At the dorms, yeah?

Technoblade: yea

Ph1LzA: I’ll drop by with snacks maybe ;)

BIG TOMMY: POGGERS

Technoblade: and

,,,thank u tommy and wil

i appreciate it

WilburSoot: of course

you deserve your own personal time

never apologise for that

BIG TOMMY: I LOVE YOU TECHNO

Technoblade: :)

i love you too, tommy

Chapter Text

CAN WE BLOW UP THE SCHOOL

     > #general

Fundy: i’m so ready to pass out

Slimecicle: same

i have so much work i’m about to have a mental breakdown

Fundy: stupid econs teacher gave us an essay to write over the weekend

can’t have shit here

jackmanifold: sometimes i wonder how tf we’re still alive

Slimecicle: fr

like how haven’t i performed an elegant swan dive off the nearest building yet

Fundy: ‘make sure u memorise the difference between alkenes and alkanes otherwise you’re done for in the exam’

ma’am i think i’m done for but for different reasons

BIG TOMMY: THERE’S THIS DUDE IN MY CLASS THAT JUST SLEEPS

AND THE TEACHERS DON’T CARE

HOW UNFAIR IS THAT

Slimecicle: balls of steel

do you know how his grades are like

BIG TOMMY: NO CLUE

Slimecicle: wish i too could casually sleep through class but no i kinda wanna have a future

jackmanifold: looking at my math practice paper rn and

i’m gonna be honest here

i don’t think i’m going to have a future charlie

Slimecicle: lmao that bad?

what topic

jackmanifold: surds

Slimecicle: LMAO FUCK NOT THE S-WORD

BYE DUDE NICE KNOWING YOU

jackmanifold: uggggggggggggghhh

i wanna kms

     > #drug-dealing

Skeppy: ANY Y2S HAVE GONE THROUGH THE ECONS ESSAY ABOUT OIL RIGS YET

PLEASE SEND I NEED HELP

PLEASE IT’S DUE TOMORROW

Technoblade: sigh

skeppy

Skeppy: GO AWAY TECHNO

Technoblade: bruhh

i’m disappointed but not surprised

     > #general

WilburSoot: do you see any arts students moaning

no

arts privilege for real

Slimecicle: wilbur u take maths as well it’s compulsory

WilburSoot: well yeah

but i have techno helping me

Technoblade: he is making progress i am proud to say

tommy on the other hand

BIG TOMMY: I AM IMPROVING

I IMPROVED BY ONE MARK ON MY LATEST CLASS TEST

Technoblade: wilbur improved by twelve

BIG TOMMY: FUCK YOU WILBUR

WilburSoot: it’s because of all the training techno sensei gave me

i have the product and quotient rules stuck in my head forever

etch them into my fucking gravestone

jackmanifold: i think i’ll have a gravestone very soon

Fundy: are u ok jack lmao like genuinely

jackmanifold: no

i’m stressed, messed and hella depressed

Slimecicle: fr

new tinder bio

Fundy: u have tinder???

Slimecicle: no wtf

i’m just kidding

Fundy: das cap

im not convinced

you’re hella sus

Slimecicle: ????????

Fundy: i feel like you’d be a simp

Slimecicle: bro if u want a prime example of getting pussy look at wilbur and george in the halls

fucking girls everywhere

WilburSoot: okay this is not true

george tho

mans got bitches

Fundy: i thought george would talk more in here

@georgenotfound

georgenotfound: wat

i’m studying asshole

Fundy: tell us about ur many gfs

georgenotfound: ???????????

WilburSoot: idek how to talk to girls how am i getting a gf

Fundy: u dont need to talk if u have a good face

WilburSoot: which i dont

Fundy: u absolutely do

have u seen urself

WilburSoot: fundy u could be a comedian

Fundy: ur good-looking wilbur

WilburSoot: my self-esteem is nonexistent

i’ll turn any compliment into a self-derogatory statement

you cannot win

jackmanifold: i also have no self-esteem but for different reasons

Slimecicle: jack are u sure ur going to be ok

jackmanifold: no

Slimecicle: sending mental stability

hope you manage to finish the s-word paper

jackmanifold: thank you

Slimecicle: :thumbsup:

Fundy: @Ranboo

Ranboo: ayo wht u want

why must u disturb me today

it’s the one day i get off early and i’m taking a nap so fuck u guys

Fundy: it’ll be quick i promise

just answer one yes/no question for me

Ranboo: ,,,okay

sounds sus

Fundy: ok so

as a gay guy would u say wilbur is attractive

Ranboo: yeah

Fundy: THANK YOU

take that wilbur

WilburSoot: i think ranboo is just nice to me

like ask tommy

hey @BIG TOMMY am i handsome

BIG TOMMY: WILBUR SOOT IS NOT HANDSOME.

WilburSoot: see

Slimecicle: yeah,,,

no i think that’s just because tommy hates you

BIG TOMMY: TRUE

I DO HATE HIM

BIG LANKY BRITISH MAN

WHO ALWAYS CALLS ME A CHILD

WilburSoot: u are a child

BIG TOMMY: I’M ONLY TWO YEARS BELOW YOU

WilburSoot: little baby man

two years below me L

BIG TOMMY: I WILL KICK YOU IN THE BALLS

jackmanifold: tommy will you kick me in the balls

BIG TOMMY: WHY GLADLY JACK MANIFOLD

BUT WHY

jackmanifold: that would be less painful than going through this shit

Slimecicle: jack

jack please

you have so much to live for

jackmanifold: my head is full of the s-word charlie

i want it to stop

sometimes i think of stealing a stray cat off the streets

maybe a pet cat would be therapeutic

i don’t want to suffer alone man

Slimecicle: man

wish they allowed pets in the dorms

WilburSoot: i love cats!! :D

they’re so fluffy and adorable :>

jackmanifold: ayyyy fellow cat lover

didn’t know u liked cats wilbur

WilburSoot: i like cats a lot <3

did i ever tell you how much i like cats?

i had a cat when i was younger

he was a grey tabby!!

well technically he wasn’t mine,, he just lived on the street outside my house!

and i would pet him and feed him every day ^-^

Slimecicle: that’s so cool

cats are poggers

WilburSoot: they are!

he was my only friend for a very long time

he kept me company and sat in my lap and let me rub his belly

Fundy: did u ever give him a name??

WilburSoot: yeah!

his name was milo :DD

--------

OHANA

     > #general

Technoblade: @WilburSoot

hey friend!

WilburSoot: hello!!!

Technoblade: how have you been?

WilburSoot: i’m doing okay! :D

are you doing okay too?

Technoblade: i’m doing great, thank you :))

so you know the chat you were talking in?

they don’t know about you guys yet!

WilburSoot: huh?

they don’t?

Technoblade: no, not right now

WilburSoot: oh

i see :( sorry!

what do i do?

Technoblade: uhhh hold on

--------

CAN WE BLOW UP THE SCHOOL

     > #general

Slimecicle: didn’t know wilbur turned into a big softie over cats

kinda cute

Fundy: ikr

like wouldn’t he make a pussy joke

jackmanifold: hey @WilburSoot you stink

@WilburSoot imagine singing about girls lmao

Technoblade: imagine being bad at surds lmao

jackmanifold: AY DONT UNDERESTIMATE MY MATHS PROWESS

Technoblade: you can’t say that when you were threatening to unalive yourself five minutes ago man

surds are ez

jackmanifold: FOR YOU

hope u trip techno

Technoblade: yeah yeah

can’t believe you’re still alive seriously

amazing

Slimecicle: ayo chill

Technoblade: no

he’s bad and that’s the truth

jackmanifold: not everyone has an affinity for maths like you techno

Technoblade: well

have you tried getting good

jackmanifold: i’ve tried getting your mom

Technoblade: oh my dad wouldn’t like that

jackmanifold: he can’t stop me tho

Technoblade: he absolutely can

there’s a reason why i’m 6 foot 3 jack manifold

jackmanifold: ,,,,???

what does that have to do with

WAIT

Fundy: AYO HOL UP

DID HE JUST CALL YOU SHORT

jackmanifold: TECHNOBLADE YOU MOTHERFUCKER

GET UR ASS BACK HERE AND FIGHT ME

Technoblade: cmon jack manifold you don’t wanna do this

even the bullies in my elementary school were smart enough to know that picking on the guy a head taller than them was a bad idea

well then again you were also struggling at surds so

jackmanifold: TECHNO

Slimecicle: jesus fucking christ

dude i’m so scared of techno

he’s like a hydra

cut off one head and two more regrow in its place

Technoblade: cyberbullying is pog

--------

OHANA

     > #general

Technoblade: okay i think i distracted them

Ph1LzA: Whew

Good fucking catch Techno

Technoblade: thank you

WilburSoot: thank you techno!

sorry :((

Technoblade: no no friend don’t be

you wouldn’t have known

WilburSoot: they started talking about cats and i got excited

i love cats :D

Technoblade: i know you do, friend

WilburSoot: they make me very happy <3

whenever i see a cat i get so ecstatic

i just wanna hug them!! and make them feel loved

just as milo loved us!!!

Technoblade: aw

i like cats too :))

WilburSoot: that’s great! ^-^

Technoblade: will you be around for a while, friend?

WilburSoot: ah yeah i think so!!

i was already kind of there in the back because wilbur was stressed

and then they talked about cats

so now i’m here! and wilbur is taking a break :>

Technoblade: that’s nice of you :))

WilburSoot: it’s what i do best! hehe

i soothe wilbur and make him forget about his stress :D

just like milo did for wilbur before he

Technoblade: he,,?

WilburSoot: he um

Technoblade: friend?

WilburSoot: nnevermind!

anyway i think

i’ll go have a lie-down

maybe it’ll help

with the headache!

bye technoblade!

Technoblade: ,,oh

okay

bye friend

BIG TOMMY: :(

Technoblade: :(

--------

CAN WE BLOW UP THE SCHOOL

     > #drug-dealing

Skeppy: U GUYS SUCK U KNOW THAT

Chapter Text

OHANA

     > #general

WilburSoot: shit guys

i’m so sorry

BIG TOMMY: WILBUR

Technoblade: hello wilbur

welcome back

WilburSoot: hey

i’m sorry

i didn’t mean to nearly fuck myself over

thank u so much techno

Technoblade: ur welcome

anytime wilbur

but thank god it was friend and not anyone else

i don’t think i could explain away u being rude or something

WilburSoot: yeah i

yeah

i’ll try harder

really sorry

Ph1LzA: There’s no need to apologise, Wil

It’s not your fault

WilburSoot: yeah i know

i just

yeah

Ph1LzA: Are you okay to go to school Wilbur?

WilburSoot: yes

i have to

got math today and i can’t miss a single lecture

otherwise i’m going to fail my mid-years

BIG TOMMY: WILBUR IF YOU’RE NOT FEELING GOOD STAY HOME AND REST

DON’T PUSH YOURSELF LIKE A BIG IDIOT

WilburSoot: i’m fine tommy

BIG TOMMY: I CAN TELL YOU’RE NOT

WilburSoot: tommy

please i’m all good

i had a nap already yesterday because of friend and i feel better

i can’t slack off rn

Technoblade: usually i would applaud your studious nature but don’t go to school if you’re not well please wilbur

last thing we want is for you to dissociate again

if you switch in front of people and we can’t cover for you it’ll be big trouble

WilburSoot: i can manage myself

thanks

i’ll go to class

Technoblade: sigh

wilbur

Ph1LzA: Stubborn as ever

I know we can’t stop you Wilbur but please

Go back early if you feel out of it.

WilburSoot: ok

i will

Ph1LzA: Okay

Don’t forget to eat and drink.

WilburSoot: i won’t

--------

Wilbur breathed out heavily through his nose and shook his head, trying to drive away the constant heaviness hanging over him like a thundercloud. It felt like it was clinging to him at this rate, hanging onto his skin with such tenacity that nothing short of a scalding bath would get rid of it. Unfortunately, he hadn’t even had the time to hop in the shower before class this morning, and his eyelids were laden with the residual fatigue from last night.

His teacher was going on about the exercise they were supposed to have done for homework. Wilbur had done it for once and had no wrong answers since he half-cheated by asking Techno to go through it with him, but he still had to listen because he sucked at this topic and knew that if not for Techno, the homework would’ve been a disaster. But his brain was stuffed full of cotton and god, he wanted to lean into his hand and doze off.

“And when we have an exponential in the expression, we use the exponential rule to differentiate- can anyone tell me how to proceed from here?”

Wilbur’s eyelids slipped shut briefly before fluttering back open. He had neither the heart nor the brainpower to put up with this shit, and part of him was beginning to regret deciding to come to school. But an even bigger part of him wanted to be a good student so that he wouldn’t screw up his next test and disappoint Phil again - he had been working so hard to pay for Wilbur’s therapy.

“Will?”

He jumped, instantly alert from both the sound of his real name and also from his teacher’s voice. Wilbur sprung up so violently that his heart leapt into his throat. He swallowed as the whole class turned to look at him.

His teacher pointed at the disgustingly convoluted expression on the board with his marker. “Could you tell us what to do from here?”

Wilbur stared at the algebraic expression dumbly. His brain had turned to mush from shock. “Um,” he stuttered, desperately glancing down at his worksheet for some sort of divine intervention. He flipped through the exercise, hoping to find a similar question within its pages to help with igniting his memory, but failed to find any.

His teacher continued, “What kind of expression is this?”

“Exponential,” he replied on autopilot. He’d heard it before he dozed off.

“So what rule should we use when differentiating?”

“The-” Wilbur broke off, gripping his exercise tightly. “Exponential rule.”

“Correct. How does that work?”

Fuck. His handwriting swam in front of his eyes. Wilbur raised a hand to his temples, breathing in deeply in an attempt to calm himself. He could feel the fucking migraine coming on. “We, uh…”

“What’s the first step of the exponential rule? What do we get when we differentiate e to the power of x?”

Wilbur bit his lip and decided to fling out a wild guess. “Just e to the power of x?”

“Yes. But here we have e to the power of 3x. What do we get when we differentiate that?”

Maths had never been his strong suit. Wilbur was a music boy. He loved acting, writing, singing: his fingers itched not towards pressing the buttons of a calculator in a practised, efficient manner, but rather towards plucking the strings of a guitar and humming along to the tune under his breath. The numbers and rules made his head swim, and the fact that there was nothing besides dry, hard facts made him turn away with disgust. Wilbur was a dreamer - he wanted a realm of possibilities to explore, unsatisfied with the concept that the rules of maths always ensured the outcome was fixed. He hated that notion. He wanted to put something in and not know what he would get out of it. That was what he wanted.

“Will?”

“I’m not sure,” he croaked. 

He was shaking by this point, unable to handle the pressure of having thirty pairs of eyes upon him. His stomach felt queasy and Wilbur’s head was so light that he was certain that if he leaned just the tiniest bit forward, he’d fall over and give himself a spectacular concussion.

“Sit down, then, and make sure you revise your content. How about you, Marcus? What do we get when we differentiate e to the power of 3x?”

Wilbur sank down gratefully, palms clammy. His heart was going a mile an hour in his chest, and he barely registered the voice of his other classmate answering the question (apparently, he was the only one who had no fucking clue what the solution was). All his attention was focused on his slowly throbbing headache and the feelings of fear and frustration bubbling in his gut.

He felt hot tears fill his eyes as he stared at the worksheet Techno had helped him with, lips trembling. Wilbur gritted his teeth in anger. How was it that when Techno had explained the concepts to him, he’d been so sure about how they worked, and now that he was put on the spot, it was like he’d never had the lesson with Techno at all?

Wilbur bit back a sob of despair. His head hurt, but there was nothing he could do about it. He had to stay. There were more lessons afterwards and he really couldn’t afford to go back to rest, not even with the massive migraine ravaging his skull.

He had little to no recollection of the rest of maths. It was as though Wilbur had awoken as the bell rang, signalling the end of the period and snapping him out of his stupor.

Dazed, he moved robotically, tidying his notes into his file. He knew he had History now, which was finally a subject he wasn’t completely shit at, but Wilbur’s head was strangely heavy. Probably dehydration, but even after downing some water, he didn’t feel better. For a split second he considered returning to the dorms and calling in sick for the rest of the day, but the image of Phil’s disappointed face made him physically wince. It was a stark reminder of why he was here: he was here to make sure he didn’t completely screw up his midterms.

History passed in a blur. Wilbur retained none of the content taught that lesson, despite the fact that he was physically there. It seemed as though there was a deep disconnect between him and the rest of the world, and all around him, sound and sensation alike were being filtered through a thick wall of cotton gauze.

He had a free period next, and Wilbur took that chance to go home. There was no way he could stomach the long music lesson after that with this headache and dizziness despite it being his favourite subject.

By this time he was barely steady on his feet, feeling like a strong gust of wind would blow him off the face of the earth. He was little more than an incapacitated pilot in the cockpit of an airplane on autopilot at this point, and all Wilbur could do was watch as someone guided him back to the dorms and rolled him back into the unmade bed from which he’d risen from this morning. There, finally, when his body was still and there was no longer any background noise constantly going on, Wilbur’s mental processes slowly came back to life to begin making sense of his emotions.

Numbness. Disconnection. The sensation of being far, far away. Wilbur dimly recognised these as being tell-tale signs of dissociation. He remembered, briefly, his interaction with his therapist when he’d begun experiencing some of these symptoms during their session, and it went something like this:

“Wilbur?”

He hadn’t responded.

“Are you alright?”

He hadn’t responded.

“Are you having a headache?”

He’d managed to nod slightly.

“That’s okay. Can you rub the pillow in your hands a bit?”

He’d done so.

“Remember how it feels: the texture, the roughness, the softness.”

He’d done so.

Now, buoyed by this memory, Wilbur reached robotically for the sheets entangled around his waist and legs, untangling them and pulling them up to his chin. He took a fistful of them into his hands, breathing in as he rubbed slowly. They were very soft; almost silky despite them not being made of silk. Phil had chosen them for him specifically - light but comfortable, yet easily maintainable. He’d taken into account Wilbur’s dislike for feeling restrained and trapped as he slept. Phil had picked well: this blanket kept him warm while letting him breathe at the same time.

These thoughts comforted him, especially those of Phil. Wilbur exhaled silently, letting his eyes slip shut. It was only then that he really noticed how tired he was mentally, despite having gotten more than enough sleep last night. He didn’t want to think about school and academics right now. Instead, he focused on regulating his breathing, still clutching the blanket in his hands. And when the world finally fell away, Wilbur went with it without protest.

--------

There was something he was chasing, with a fervour so desperate it bordered on manic. Wilbur knew this. He was submerged in the cold and his lungs were burning, but still he clawed frantically at the thick darkness, searching.

The salt stung his eyes badly as he opened them for a split second, and when he screeched, no sound left his lips; only a stream of bubbles. The salt flooded his mouth now, an undesirable tang on his tongue that would’ve made him gag and spit had he not been in such a frenzy. Now, it served as a burning reminder of what he had to do, and the disgust at the taste simply made him strive harder. But the expanse was so vast, and there was not much energy left in him.

He had no choice but to surface, wheezing and coughing. The oxygen was welcomed, but the chilly air tickled his parched throat, sending him into a coughing fit. He wasn’t supposed to be out this far, where no one could see him, but there was something more important, something vital, someone he had to save.

There was a clear picture of her now: long brown hair, a kind smile, lips of soft pink, silver studs in her ears… he dove back in, snatching blindly for anything, something he could grab onto and never let go: an arm, perhaps, or a leg, some part of her he could hold to make sure she was still there, that she hadn’t been completely lost to the darkness. 

The pain in his chest was exquisite. He went up for air again, unable to tell if the stickiness on his cheeks was from the salt or his tears. Was it even possible to cry underwater? He cried her name, thrashing about, neck aching from keeping his head above the sea. He cried her name again. And again. And when there was no answer, he screamed, long and loud. And he cried her name again.

People were yelling for him. That filled him with a new, primal panic. He hadn’t found her. He had to go back. He threw himself under once more, but this time strong hands yanked him back up almost immediately. He was too weak to fight them. They carried him back to land and pushed the water from his stomach. He sobbed the whole way. He hadn’t found her. They were asking him all sorts of things, but he couldn’t say anything but her name, over and over again. They couldn’t make sense of it. But it made perfect sense in his head, that mantra that they couldn’t decipher, and it was screaming in his ears, loud and high, like a rabbit caught in a trap deep within the forest:

Find her, find her, find her.

--------

Wilbur couldn’t move.

He was awake but his body was not, and there was a tremendous weight upon his chest. Outside, the skies had gone dark. In the distance, thunder rumbled and the winds picked up speed. A terrific storm was brewing.

Wilbur heard none of this. His ears were filled with white noise that came and went like waves on the sand, his heart as cold as that day they’d pulled her body from the ocean.

Chapter Text

CAN WE BLOW UP THE SCHOOL

     > #general

Slimecicle: afternoon motherfuckers

how’s your day been

Fundy: not good

hbu

Slimecicle: i’m in detention

Fundy: .

tubbo_: .

Fundy: ayo ur in what

Slimecicle: let me explain

i didn’t do drugs

Fundy: i didn’t think u did but ok

Slimecicle: i got timing’d so hard

so basically one of my classmates dared me to open the nearest window and yell ‘SCHOOL SUCKS’ as loudly as i can

i, being the biggest gigachad, agreed

and as i’m preparing to yell, the teacher walks in

by then it was too late

tubbo_: wdym too late

Fundy: tubbo charlie has never heard of shutting up it’s not his fault

Slimecicle: go fuck urself floris

anyway

clay: w8 if ur in detention

how do u have ur phone

Slimecicle: teacher fell asleep lmao

i yoinked it from his table

Fundy: wtf

ay what if he wakes up

Slimecicle: nahhh

he ain’t waking

trust trust

Fundy: i’ll quote u on that when he does, in fact, wake up

Slimecicle: well now that you’ve said it he’s gonna wake up

you’ve screwed me

thanks floris u suck

Fundy: no problem <3

tubbo_: is there no one there with u charlie?

Slimecicle: nope

Fundy: charlie’s the only piece of shit in this school confirmed

Slimecicle: hope u get surds for math homework you fucker

Ranboo: the heck is that detention reason

did u rat out the guy who dared u to shout it

Slimecicle: ofc not

i aint no snitch

Fundy: perhaps there is a redeeming factor to him

Slimecicle: all i want for christmas is for fundy to fucking explode

Fundy: christmas aint coming anytime soon loser

Ranboo: to be fair

i would’ve also accepted the dare

just for the memes

Slimecicle: frfr

i knew ranboo would be on my side

Fundy: maybe it’s just that u have a skill issue yk

maybe he wouldn’t have gotten caught

Slimecicle: ur dad caught me doing ur mom last night

Fundy: ah yes classic ur mom joke

very original

Slimecicle: 10 years and there’s still no comeback to it

Ranboo: ur mom won’t come back to ur dad once i’m done with her

Slimecicle: AYO

WHAT THE FUCK

I THOUGHT U WERE ON MY SIDE RANBOO

Ranboo: lmao sorry couldn’t help myself

jackmanifold: absolute madlad

niki: hii everyone!!

jackmanifold: omg niki!

finally someone decent joins the conversation

Fundy: WHAT DOES THAT MEAN JACK MANIFOLD

jackmanifold: i dunno

up for personal interpretation

Fundy: “uP foR pERsoNaL iNterPrETAtion”

fuck u

jackmanifold: ,,anyway

how are u niki?

niki: ummmm i have been better!

jackmanifold: wait why

wtf happened

who hurt u

i’ll kill them just give me names

Fundy: yo they hurt niki????

i’ll fucking shank them

niki: aaa no guys!

no shanking and killing :((

jackmanifold: ,,,hnngh

ok fine

no shanking and killing

but what’s bothering u niki?

niki: no just,,

nightmares!

Fundy: ohh

like,, sleeping issues?

tubbo_: is it insomnia?

niki: hehe not really

just flashbacks!

to my childhood and stuff yknow

Fundy: oh

did something bad happen then? :((

jackmanifold: :(

niki: umm

jackmanifold: you don’t have to tell us if you don’t feel comfortable!!

niki: well i

essentially got kidnapped for a while,,

Fundy: WHT

niki: ahh

i mean

by my stepfather!!

jackmanifold: oh my god,,

i’m so sorry to hear tht niki

did he hurt you?

niki: i don’t remember much

i was very young

but i remember not knowing what was going on

tubbo_: AAA niki :’(

niki: i’m all good now though!

seeing therapist and everything hehe

jackmanifold: good good

external therapist?

niki: yea! :))

jackmanifold: cool!

school counsellor fucking sucks btw

Ranboo: that’s true

they said some shit to me about my sexuality once

Fundy: HA??

naww m8

Ranboo: yeah..

they were like

heavily insinuating that maybe my mental health issues were due to me being gay

and that being gay was a choice

etc.

jackmanifold: wtf

i knew they were shit but holy fuck

Minx: SOMEONE HURT NIKI??

I’LL KILL THE MOTHERFUCKER

niki: hey minx!! ^^

Minx: HELLO NIKI!!!!

WHO HURT YOU????

jackmanifold: man

would it kill you to backread a bit minx

or like would u explode into flames if u did

Minx: FUCK OFF

I HAVE BACKREAD

Fundy: then

Minx: FUCK YOU ALL

Fundy: but yes anyway

school sucks

jackmanifold: facts

sometimes i think about dropping out

Fundy: i think about it all the time

i just want to be free man

please euthanise me

Slimecicle: i have homework

but i’m not doing it

Fundy: charlie ur literally in detention

stop texting and do ur work

the teacher’s gonna wake up and kill you

Slimecicle: nahhhh

trust

Fundy: no

there’s no trust here

this is a disaster waiting to happen

Skeppy: YOU GUYS THINK U HAVE IT BAD

I HAVE A CLASS SPEECH TOMORROW

Fundy: oh which subject

Skeppy: ECONS

OK TECHNICALLY NOT A ‘SPEECH’

JUST EXPLAINING AN ESSAY QUESTION

Fundy: are u prepared?

Skeppy: KEKW

OF COURSE NOT

I’M SCREWED

Fundy: sigh

jackmanifold: i’m just amazed u still have expectations fundy

Fundy: i like to give people the benefit of the doubt

but apparently skeppy is an exception

Skeppy: HEY

Fundy: @Technoblade u gotta help him man

Skeppy: NO FUNDY WHY

Technoblade: skeppy

cmon

what did u do this time

or actually what did you not do

Skeppy: WTF

Technoblade: midterms are coming in like two months

Skeppy: DONT TELL ME

I DONT WANNA KNOW

Technoblade: you can’t avoid it

now get off minecraft and go do your work

Skeppy: WHAT

HOW DID YOU KNOW

Technoblade: you’re on my friends list

i can see you online

Skeppy: NAH IM REMOVING YOU BYE

STALKER

Technoblade: how is it stalking if i literally just see you online

Skeppy: THEN WHY ARE YOU ONLINE THEN HUH ASSHOLE

Technoblade: because im done with all my work for next week’s lessons,,,?

and one of the guys from orchestra wants me to carry him in bedwars so

Fundy: SHEEESH

we gotta arrange a minecraft session sometime techno

Technoblade: yea sure

Slimecicle: take me too pls

Fundy: didnt u have homework

Slimecicle: FUCK

Technoblade: that’s an L

anyways cya we just got into a lobby

Fundy: glhf!!

sigh

oh to be smart and talented like technoblade

Slimecicle: exactly

ur stupid

Fundy: ur moms stupid

Slimecicle: :OOOO

--------

OHANA

     > #general

Ph1LzA: Wilbur, your form teacher called to ask why you weren’t in school today?

Are you sick?

BIG TOMMY: OOOOOOOH WILBURS PLAYING TRUANT

Technoblade: wait wilbur are you okay?

you didn’t go to class today?

Ph1LzA: Wilbur?

BIG TOMMY: uh oh

Ph1LzA: @WilburSoot

BIG TOMMY: maybe he’s sleeping

Ph1LzA: Maybe.

But usually if he’s sick he’d tell us so I can at least inform the teachers

I’m worried

Technoblade: i can go over?

i know tommy has choir so

BIG TOMMY: YES I HAVE CHOIR UNTIL 6PM

I HATE LIFE

Technoblade: L

Ph1LzA: That would be good, thank you Techno

Technoblade: okay i’ll go over in like ten minutes

i’ll finish up this bedwars game and let the guy i’m playing with know it’s an emergency and we can play another time

Ph1LzA: Okay

Can you call me if anything goes wrong?

Technoblade: of course

i’ll let u guys know immediately

Ph1LzA: Thank you so much Techno

It’s really a blessing that you’re over there with Wil and Tommy

BIG TOMMY: HEY WHATS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN

Technoblade: L

--------

CAN WE BLOW UP THE SCHOOL

     > #general

Fundy: so @Slimecicle

did he wake up

Slimecicle: yes

Fundy: how r u still alive

Slimecicle: i immediately pretended to be doing my work

he didn’t notice my phone was gone from the table

Fundy: bruh

he had one job

Slimecicle: kek

i am just too good at this

Fundy: i am too good at doing ur mom

Slimecicle: .

i hope u die

--------

It was a blessing that Phil insisted they pick dorms not too far from each others’. While Techno’s and Tommy’s shared dorm was right by the science building, Wilbur’s was behind it, which meant that the quickest way to get from one dorm to the other would be to cut through the science block itself. Of course, there was the longer route of going around the block, but given Wilbur’s condition, they seldom used it.

Techno tried to avoid stares as he brisk-walked through the halls, following a path he knew like the back of his hand. It was a familiar hastiness that guided his footsteps and made students stare, for it was a Friday afternoon and there was not much urgency to be found anywhere. Fridays meant that students were languid and relaxed, already slipping into the easygoing state reserved only for weekends, and with it being in the afternoon, a good half of the school had already gone home. This left the remaining half to curiously observe Techno and his unorthodox pace as the tall brunet strode towards the dorms on the other side of the building.

It wasn’t the first time he’d checked up on Wilbur. He’d done so under so many different circumstances: with Tommy, without Tommy, with both Tommy and Phil on very rare occasions, in the morning before classes, in the middle of the night - he could’ve walked to Wilbur’s dorm with his eyes closed at this point. But this time was a little different. There was a sense of unease that lingered at the back of his mind, nagging. 

Techno wasn’t one to be paranoid or shaken easily. He was an extremely logical person who operated on statistical probability, and hence wasn’t a huge worrier like Phil or Tommy. He remembered once assuring Tommy that no, his teacher wasn’t going to expel him just because he’d forgotten an important assignment; it was more likely that he’d just get marks docked from his final score instead. Same thing with orchestra, when he’d assuaged the principal cellist’s worries about not being able to find the score for a particular piece before their concert.  

Of course, this meant that when his gut did speak up, Techno listened to it more closely than anything else. He trusted his gut feeling, especially when it overpowered his logical thinking. 

That was the first sign of something being wrong: the gut feeling.

The second sign was that when Techno knocked on Wilbur’s door, no one came to answer. He stood around for a minute just in case Wilbur was rousing from sleep before deciding to just unlock the door with the spare key Wilbur had given all of them.

Then came the third sign: Wilbur was sitting at the dining table, his face pale. His hands were wrapped around a coffee mug. He didn’t respond at all to the noise Techno’s keys made as they unlocked the door, and despite his phone being next to him on the table face-up, screen alight with notifications, Wilbur continued to stare straight ahead as if he were frozen.

By this point, Techno had pulled out his phone and sent a message to their Discord, saying that Wilbur was definitely not okay. “Wilbur,” he ventured, shutting the door with one hand and shoving his phone back into his pocket with the other. “Wilbur?”

Wilbur didn’t move an inch. A stray breeze lifted his curly brown locks from his face, and for a brief moment, Techno saw the hollowness in his eyes.

He moved slowly so as not to startle Wilbur, settling into the seat next to him. “Wilbur,” he tried again, to no avail.

Wilbur was so still. Techno’s throat ached as he swallowed. There was no sign of life in his pseudo-brother’s body besides the slightest rising and falling of his shoulders as he breathed.

Stricken with indecisiveness, Techno momentarily contemplated calling Phil. He reached out for Wilbur’s arm, but paused right before it, wondering if Wilbur was comfortable with touch. But as he observed Wilbur, nothing changed about him, and it seemed like calling his name wasn’t going to achieve anything.

Taking a breath, Techno nudged Wilbur gently. “Hey, Wilbur.”

It was like his touch undid a spell. Wilbur blinked, his previously stiff shoulders relaxing just the tiniest bit, and he sank into his chair like a fat droplet of water sagging against the tension of its surface. He quivered, and then he turned. His face didn’t change, but his eyes flickered briefly in recognition.

“Techno,” he breathed, so softly it was nigh inaudible.

Techno gave him a small smile. “Hey, Wilbur. I’m here.”

Wilbur stared at him for a good ten seconds. Then he moved, slowly, to wrap his long arms around Techno’s body in a warm hug. 

“I’m glad you are,” he whispered.

The melancholy in his voice saddened Techno. It was the type of sorrow that was so fragile that it laced his words with a sort of broken relief, as though his heart was glad to get the sadness out. Techno couldn’t talk much about sorrow. He hadn’t lost his parents like Wilbur had, nor had he gone through years of abuse and neglect. He was pretty normal, save his obsession over the history of Ancient China and the English language, and the few times he’d been sad were for reasons that were normal enough that he hadn’t ended up severely depressed and traumatised. He hadn’t witnessed violence firsthand, nor had he nearly drowned when he was young.

But Wilbur had. And Wilbur, right now, was holding him when he was supposed to be the one holding Wilbur. This thought made Techno reciprocate the hug, pulling Wilbur in closer to his body.

“Are you Wilbur right now?” he asked softly, stroking Wilbur’s back in rhythmic motions.

The other boy shook his head.

“Okay,” Techno breathed. “Do you want to tell me who you are?”

“I’m not sure,” said the other. His voice sounded detached and floaty. He looked up at Techno with dazed eyes, not unlike the ones he’d been staring into space with not too long ago. “I’m not sure if I’m alive.”

Techno gave him an encouraging nod, smoothing his hair back from his face. “That’s okay,” he coaxed. “Do you remember why you’re here?”

“Drowning,” came the mumbled reply. “It was cold and wet and salty. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see. I felt so nauseous and tired. I thought I was going to die looking for her.”

A cold knot in Techno’s stomach pulled taut. He knew, suddenly, who he was speaking to, and this knowledge made his heart break.

“Ghost?” he whispered. He was barely able to keep his voice from breaking.

Ghost stared at him. He didn’t move for a good minute.

“You know… my name,” he said finally, in a hushed voice full of awe.

Techno nodded. “I do.”

Ghost laughed. His laugh was different from Wilbur’s - it was soft and polite, hardly audible. In fact, he was different from Wilbur in the sense that everything he did lacked Wilbur’s usual boldness.

“I’m sorry if I didn’t notice you,” Ghost continued. There was a halting cadence to his speech, and Techno could tell that he was struggling with verbally articulating his thoughts.

From Techno’s knowledge, Ghost was a product of Wilbur’s near-death experience with the ocean. He’d come about when Wilbur couldn’t handle the sensations of almost drowning coupled with the trauma of losing someone at the same time. Ghost hardly ever talked, hardly ever moved, and kept to himself and his head so much that it was a miracle if he even responded half the time. He tended to drift from room to room like a silent spectre, not minding the things happening around him, as though he was lost, trying to figure out where exactly he belonged and what exactly happened for him to have been born. It was a heartbreaking thing to think about.

“It’s alright,” Techno told him, pulling him in for another hug. “You did amazing just talking to me. I’m so proud of you, Ghost.”

Ghost made a little sound of happiness, gladly latching onto Techno once again. “I love hugs,” he murmured into Techno’s arm.

“Yeah?” The fond warmth in Techno’s heart was something he only felt for a select few, and Ghost was one of them.

“Yeah,” Ghost sighed. “They make me feel warm and safe. I can forget about the ocean then, and how cold it was back there when I was trying to find her.”

There was a quietness to him that was unique. He wasn’t quiet in the most common definition of the word; instead, he was quiet in the way that someone violently wracked with pain would be. He was gently shell-shocked, dreamy and thoughtful. He had plenty of beautiful thoughts from being in his head all the time: Techno had heard some of them first-hand. It was just a shame that the vast majority of those pretty thoughts would never see the light of day.

Ghost leaned in, pressing his face against Techno’s chest. “I’m glad you’re here,” he repeated again, in the quiet way that only he could ever achieve.

And for all of his eloquence, Techno could only hold him wordlessly.

Chapter Text

Wilbur woke to a light drizzle pattering against the windows. He sat up immediately, shaking his head in an attempt to rid himself of the slight headache that was lingering in the base of his skull, and blinked the sleep furiously from his eyes.

He found himself in his room, tucked into his own bed, the very bed he barely remembered rolling into sometime back. Wilbur stared for a while, trying to reconnect his thoughts. He wasn’t even sure how long he’d slept for, but he hoped it was only a few hours. That way, he could get up and start on his revision, and maybe he’d have a shot at not completely screwing up his mid-years.

Stretching, he padded out of the room with a massive yawn, one hand mussing his hair. Wilbur cracked his neck and peered at the wall clock in the living room, squinting against his heavy eyelids to tell the time.

9:17 am. Wilbur startled, physically reeling back. He had to catch himself on the wall to avoid falling over his own two feet. It was already morning? Had he slept in? How long had he slept for? There was school - he’d left early on a Thursday, meaning that today was Friday, and he had important classes, and shit shit shit shit-

He dashed into the kitchen, slamming his palm against the light switches. Wilbur was yanking the milk from the kitchen without even waiting for the light to flicker on, grabbing a random cup and hastily pouring the milk in. He cursed as a little bit sloshed over the rim and onto his fingers, leaving them sticky. Shoving the milk carton back into the fridge and closing the fridge door so hard that the items inside rattled in protest, Wilbur ran out again to place the milk on the dining table, only to be met with a strange sight.

There, at his dining table, was Techno, who had fallen asleep with his head resting on his arms. His body rose and fell in rhythmic, undisturbed breaths, and Wilbur screeched to a stop, every thought in his mind spamming question marks.

What the hell was Techno doing here? He was a conscientious student who never skipped class despite already knowing all the content, and yet here he was, asleep on Wilbur’s table. Wilbur grimaced at the thought of how uncomfortable his contorted position had to be. He should’ve at least taken the couch.

Nevertheless, he rounded to the other side of the table and shook Techno awake. When the other brunet stirred with a sleepy groan, Wilbur let go of him, placing down the milk and running back into the kitchen.

“Wilbur?” he heard Techno call from outside, his voice groggy and thick with disuse.

“We’re going to be late!” Wilbur yelled back, trying and failing to spread butter on a slice of bread and peel a banana at the same time. “Get your uniform on.”

His pseudo-brother appeared at the kitchen doorway. He looked perplexed. “Late for what?”

“School, what else?” Wilbur stuffed the butter back into the fridge and shoved the bread into his mouth, striding past Techno back to the living room where he plonked himself down into one of the chairs and began chewing furiously.

Techno followed him, his expression mystified. “There’s no school today, Wilbur.”

Wilbur stopped chewing. “Oh, shit, really?” he mumbled through the bread. “What’s the occasion?”

“Wilbur, it’s a Saturday.”

Wilbur paused. He glanced at the clock in sheer disbelief, as if it could magically tell him the date, and then back at Techno.

Sudden understanding seemed to dawn on Techno as he observed Wilbur’s confusion. “Oh,” he exhaled, sitting down opposite him. “Wilbur, you’ve been gone for a while.”

“I went to class on Thursday and left early,” Wilbur said, ignoring both Techno’s words and the breathless feeling in his chest. “I remember I went to take a nap. And if it’s morning, that means it must be Friday now.”

“No, Wilbur,” Techno said patiently. “Yesterday was Friday. You just weren’t here.”

“No,” Wilbur repeated, shaking his head emphatically. “I was. I was just asleep.”

“Ghost was here, Wilbur.”

“I was just asleep!” Wilbur took a big gulp of milk. Why did his voice sound so thin and high-pitched in his ears? “It’s fine, I’m feeling much better today- I’ll go to class and stay the whole day this time and maybe my fucking grades won’t go to shit and Phil won’t be disappointed in me-”

“Wilbur.”

He shook his head again, laughing nervously, and stood up. He shoved the rest of his half-eaten banana into his mouth and tossed the skin away, placing the empty cup in the sink. Wilbur could feel Techno’s gaze on him, and that made his skin crawl as if there were a thousand insects underneath it; he picked up the cup suddenly and began to scrub it with a sponge.

Techno stepped closer. “Wilbur.”

His voice sounded much nearer this time, and Wilbur flinched, desperately curling into himself. He scrubbed at the cup more, cleaning the sides, the base, the bit where the handle met the body where dirt tended to accumulate, and then the rim, around and around, working in a manner that was frenzied and maniacal, his eyes hot and his cheeks burning and Wilbur kept going, kept going for the life of him because god forbid he turned around and saw the look on Techno’s face, that look of pity and sadness, that look that always made him feel so small and so useless-

A firm hand closed around his right wrist. Wilbur gasped loudly and dropped the sponge, trembling uncontrollably as his skin broke out in goosebumps.

“Wilbur,” Techno repeated. His face was blurry. Wilbur swallowed and tried to breathe, but his heart was pounding and he felt so nauseous that he had to resist the urge to just keel over and throw up on the spot. “You’re fine. Wilbur, I’m here.”

Yes, yes you are, Wilbur wanted to say. That’s the problem. That’s the whole fucking problem. I don’t want you to see me weak. I don’t want you to save me. I want you to leave me alone, in my world of delusions and memories, leave me to figure out what’s real and what’s not, leave me to decipher what I’ve been doing in the hours and days I can’t remember, leave me so that you won’t be disappointed by me ever again.  

But his lips were numb. His throat was dry despite the fact that he'd just downed an entire cup of milk. Wilbur swayed on the spot.

He let Techno usher him to the couch, where he sank into the leather gratefully. He felt like his body was made of jelly. He barely registered Techno bringing him a glass of water, too busy trying to hold himself together. Yet, he was painfully aware of the monotonous ticking of the clock, each second passing like leaves in the wind, never to be seen again.

How much time had he lost? Wilbur gripped his temples, feeling unbearably sick. So much time. He’d lost an entire day. An entire day which he could’ve used to revise, to study, to practice guitar, to further his French-

He lurched, gagging. Nothing came up. His stomach convulsed painfully, sending hot flares to his head. Wilbur breathed in through his mouth, desperately trying to regulate himself.

“You’re okay, Wilbur,” Techno murmured. He was right beside him, no doubt. “I’m right here. You’re going to be alright.”

Wilbur would’ve laughed in his face had he possessed the energy to do so.

He could feel Techno’s hand on his back, moving in rhythmic circles. Wilbur took another breath, but this time, the air reeked of sympathy. The seconds were still ticking away, and Wilbur gagged again, feeling his internal organs squeeze and constrict. 

He’d lost so much time. So much time. His life, his future, his world, and it was being ripped away from him by people he hated, people he didn’t want in his head, people who did things and said stuff and went places without his knowledge. And if he kept losing time, then how was he supposed to live?

The clock kept going. Wilbur wanted it to stop. He clenched his jaw and cried out in pain and desperation, slamming his fists against his head. Immediately, Techno moved with a shout of alarm, grabbing his wrists and holding his arms away from his body.

“Wilbur!” he shouted, the panic in his voice evident. “Wilbur, talk to me!”

Wilbur sobbed, sinking into the couch. He was older than Techno and yet Techno still had to take care of him. For fucks’ sake, couldn’t he do one thing right?

“Count with me, Wilbur. Remember what your therapist told you? In and out. One, two, three, four. And out. One, two, three, four, five, six.”

Wilbur’s skull throbbed. He focused on Techno’s steady voice and calming disposition, closing his eyes. This helped alleviate the intensity of his headache somewhat, as there was no longer much light shining into his eyes. In and out. One, two, three, four. And out. One, two, three, four, five, six.

“You’re okay,” Techno murmured, his eyes soft and relieved as Wilbur’s breathing stabilised. He ran a hand through Wilbur’s untamed curls. “You’re okay.”

Wilbur stayed in the same position long after he’d calmed down, with his face buried in his hands. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he finally mustered the courage to ask, “Is today really Saturday?”

“Would I lie to you?” Techno joked, but his words were genuine.

Wilbur felt despondence wash over him, weighing him down like dark clouds hanging over a city. “I’ve lost time again,” he croaked.

Techno hummed. “You have,” he said.

“What happened?” Wilbur asked. “Were you there? Do you know?”

“I came to check on you when you didn’t reply to the Discord messages and didn’t show up for school either. I met Ghost; he was sitting at the table and staring into space.” Techno pointed at the dining table. “He talked to me, and I hugged him, and then he fell asleep. That was Friday evening. I don’t know what happened before that.”

“I see.” Wilbur sighed inaudibly, rubbing at his skull. “I’m really sorry I had to trouble you.”

“You know you’re not trouble,” Techno chided gently.

Wilbur shrugged. “I don’t believe that, but thanks.” He tried to stand and was immediately shut down by a wave of dizziness, and had no choice but to sit back down.

“Take it easy,” Techno said. His eyes were dark with concern. “Look, it’s a Saturday. We’re chilling. We can watch Netflix or something and just sit here all day.”

That thought horrified Wilbur. “I can’t,” he replied immediately.

“Why not?”

Wilbur shot him a pointed look. “Not everyone is fucking acing their subjects.”

Techno shrugged. How was it possible for someone to shrug in a way that seemed so perfunctory yet meaningful at the same time? Wilbur couldn’t figure it out for the life of him. “You don’t have to be studying all the time to ace your subjects,” he said. “Sometimes, you need to take a break.”

His tone left no room for argument. Wilbur swallowed all the protests that immediately bubbled up within him and reluctantly reached for the remote, flicking on the television.

“What shows do you watch?” he asked Techno, scrolling through Netflix’s vast catalogue. He didn’t actually know why the fuck he still had a Netflix subscription - he never watched television, let alone Netflix.

Techno hummed thoughtfully. “There are some good shows,” he said. “The Good Doctor has excellent acting, but a few medical inaccuracies-”

Wilbur handed him the remote wordlessly.

“I like How To Train Your Dragon as well-”

A jolt of amusement passed through Wilbur. “No way you watch cartoons.”

He was greeted by Techno’s signature low chuckle. “What can I say? I’m a nerd. Also, I love Toothless.”

“Put it on, then,” Wilbur said, a wide grin on his face. “Let me witness the great Technoblade watching cartoons about dragons.”

Techno raised an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”

“Sure.”

Techno just laughed again, and an episode of How To Train Your Dragon began playing.

--------

OHANA

     > #general

Ph1LzA: @Technoblade How’s Wil?

Technoblade: we’re chillin

watching how to train your dragon

BIG TOMMY: NO FAIR

I WANNA JOIN

Technoblade: L

Ph1LzA: Okay, good.

WilburSoot: hi phil

Ph1LzA: Hey Wil!

How are you feeling?

Techno told me Ghost was there yesterday.

WilburSoot: yeah apparently so

i’m so sorry phil

Ph1LzA: What for?

WilburSoot: i didn’t go to school yesterday

missed so many classes

i disappointed you again

Ph1LzA: No, Wil

I’m not disappointed

I’m glad you didn’t go in that state

WilburSoot: no but

my grades are going to tank

phil i really want to do well and make you proud

the way you’re proud of techno

Technoblade: wilbur,,

Ph1LzA: I’m proud of all three of you

For different reasons

WilburSoot: there’s no reason to be proud of me

i’m such a failure phil

and here i am sucking all your money for my fucking therapy when i can’t even repay you by excelling at school

Technoblade: wilbur that’s not true

BIG TOMMY: WILBUR NO

WilburSoot: i’m just really sorry

i’m trying my best

please don’t leave me phil

Ph1LzA: I’d never leave you, Wilbur.

I’m so proud of you

WilburSoot: no you’re not

Ph1LzA: Yes, I am.

I’m proud of Techno for his maturity, his intelligence, his level-headedness and his logical and critical thinking.

I’m proud of Tommy for his friendliness, for how he always is so honest and outgoing, and for his loyalty towards those he cares about.

And I’m proud of you, Wilbur, for how strong you are. I’m proud that you’re still here with us despite everything you’ve been through, and I’m proud that you’re still fighting. I’m proud that you’re so resilient, proud that you’re still able to laugh and smile and make jokes even though you’ve been hurt so badly before, proud that you’ve always tried your best for me no matter what. I’m proud that you’re willing to get better and I’m proud that you’re improving every day.

WilburSoot: phil

Ph1LzA: And I’m proud that you still have so much hope and love in you left to give.

Technoblade: phil that was very nice but now he’s crying

bruhhhhh

what do i do

BIG TOMMY: LMAO

Technoblade: i’m so bad at comforting people help

please no

Ph1LzA: Whoops

Maybe hug him and tell him that everything I’ve said is true

WilburSoot: phil

i

i love you so much

Ph1LzA: I love you too, Wil.

WilburSoot: i’m so lucky

i’m so lucky

i’m so lucky to have you

and techno and tommy

i don’t deserve any of u

Technoblade: hey now

that’s false

that was not a factual assessment of the situation

BIG TOMMY: WILBUR I LOVE YOU

WilburSoot: i love you too gremlin child

BIG TOMMY: HEY

WilburSoot: i want to give you a big hug right now

BIG TOMMY: ME TOO :DD

Technoblade: also thanks phil

for the compliments

i mean i know i’m the best but

BIG TOMMY: NO UR NOT

Technoblade: if u wish to defeat me tommy

train for another hundred years

BIG TOMMY: UGH

BUT YES THX PHIL YAYY

PHILS PROUD OF ME

Ph1LzA: Yes I am

But don’t forget you both have tutoring with Techno tomorrow afternoon

BIG TOMMY: ,,FUCK

I WAS HOPING HE WOULD FORGET AMIDST THE FLUFF

Technoblade: fool

phil never forgets

Ph1LzA: :)

--------

CAN WE BLOW UP THE SCHOOL

     > #general

Technoblade: yo @jschlatt

jschlatt: wat do u want

Technoblade: urgent

can you let the conductor know i can’t make it to rehearsal today

jschlatt: oh ok

but why

Technoblade: i’m sick

woke up with a fever

jschlatt: oh shit ok

BIG TOMMY: SOUNDS KINDA SUS

Technoblade: tommy stfu

jschlatt: ok techno ur all good

but the conductor says u have to practise yea

Technoblade: the shostakovich symphony right

i’ve already got it down dw

thanks schlatt

jschlatt: AYO?????

HE’S SO FUCKING HOT

WilburSoot: schlatt i genuinely hope you die

Chapter Text

CAN WE BLOW UP THE SCHOOL

     > #general

jschlatt: ORCHESTRA INVITES YOU TO THE ANNUAL APRIL CONCERT! 

Hey guys! Are you interested in a night of classical music, orchestral repertoire, and fun? Then come on down to the auditorium hall at 7pm, April 17th to watch the school orchestra play works from great composers such as Shostakovich, Tchaikovsky, Mahler and Vivaldi!

Slimecicle: is this a copy-paste lmao

there’s proper grammar ew

jschlatt: listen this was from the admin people

we didn’t play a part in writing this

anyway i was obligated to send this here

show up for support pls

Fundy: ok but hear me out

it would be quite funny if no one showed up

jschlatt: wtf

why would u say that

Fundy: im kidding

i’ll come to watch techno

jschlatt: do i just not exist????

Technoblade: thanks fundy

jschlatt: ugh

y’all suck

BIG TOMMY: I WILL BE COMING

TO WATCH TECHNO AS WELL <<3

MY BIG BRO PLAYING HIS SOLOS

Slimecicle: gg rip jschlatt

jschlatt: if u listen hard enough u can hear my self-esteem shattering into tiny pieces

Fundy: at this point with how close the mid-terms are i’m surprised you still have any self-esteem left at all

Slimecicle: ^^ this is true

jschlatt: anyway please come to the concert

we practised very hard for it

Technoblade: yes we did

jschlatt: conductor shit on me so many times

Technoblade: really?

jschlatt: what

TECHNO YOU’RE LITERALLY SAT THERE IN REHEARSAL

HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW THE CONDUCTOR WAS YELLING AT ME

Technoblade: eh i don’t really pay attention if he’s not shouting at me

my bad

jschlatt: bruh

i played one note out of tune and got absolutely destroyed

like

I'M SORRY I PRESSED MY FINGERS ON THE WRONG SPOT?????

NO ONE’S PERFECT??? LEAVE ME ALONE

Technoblade: hmmm

sounds like a skill issue to me

WilburSoot: AYYY TECHNO MY MAN

Technoblade: eyyyy wilbur

WilburSoot: skill issue fr schlatt

get good

jschlatt: aight fuck u wilbur

coming here just to talk shit about me

WilburSoot: lmao

it’s my new hobby

anyway bye lol

jschlatt: PUSSY

Technoblade: there he goes

jschlatt: please come guys

i suffered so much for this concert

Technoblade: hey you’re not the only one who has to learn their parts

jschlatt: YOU DIDNT EVEN KNOW THE CONDUCTOR HATES ME

YOU DONT HAVE SPEAKING RIGHTS

Technoblade: how does the conductor hate you

jschlatt: OH WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW

*cracks knuckles

“HERE AT THIS PART, CELLOS, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? IT’S DOLCE! DOLCE, DOLCE, DOLCE! YOU HAVE TO PLAY CAREFULLY!!!!! WHY ARE YOU ALL GOING FORTISSIMO??”

“YOU! SECOND ROW! STAND UP AND PLAY YOUR PART ALONE! YOUR STRING CROSSINGS AREN’T CLEAR ENOUGH! HAVE YOU EVEN PRACTISED??”

Fundy: ok im not a music person what do dolce and fortissimo mean

Technoblade: dolce means sweetly and fortissimo means loudly

Fundy: ohh

jschlatt: “WHY ARE YOU GUYS CRUSHING YOUR NOTES????? PLAY ELEGANTLY! AND STOP SLOUCHING! I CAN SEE YOU SLOUCHING IN THE BACK OF THE SECTION OVER THERE! STOP LEANING ON YOUR CELLO! SIT UP! SIT UP! SPINE STRAIGHT!”

i want to kms

Fundy: sounds rough

jschlatt: u know what’s the worst part???

our conductor is from china and when he yells he gets more and more of an asian accent

and good god

i pity all the asian kids getting yelled at by their asian parents

Technoblade: have you tried not getting yelled at

jschlatt: SCREW YOU TECHNO

HE ONCE MADE ME STAND UP AND TELL HIM THE EXPRESSIVE MARKING AT THE START OF THE PIECE WITHOUT LOOKING AT MY SCORE

Technoblade: which one

jschlatt: uhhhh tchaik

the one in d. major

Technoblade: allegro vivace

jschlatt: FUCK YOU

Fundy: omg lol is he right??

jschlatt: OF COURSE HE IS

BUT FUCK YOU TECHNO

Technoblade: we rehearsed that for like a month straight schlatt

how do u not know the marking

jschlatt: SFLJLDLSDGSLGHDGAKGKHMC

Technoblade: sounds like a skill issue

WilburSoot: AYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

TECHNO MY MAN

jschlatt: NOPE NOPE NOPE I’M FUCKING LEAVING

--------

Setting down his violin, Techno sighed and cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders. Despite years of playing the instrument, it still gave him aches and discomfort after practising for hours and hours on end. The posture required to play the violin just wasn’t natural enough for the body to ever get used to.

He brushed his hair back from his face, exhaling heavily from his nose as he stared at the notes on his sheet music. It was covered in pencil marks, numbers telling him what fingerings to use so that he wouldn’t have to shift as much and small reminders that certain sections had to be played softly and delicately, according to the interpretation their orchestra had agreed upon. Plus, as concertmaster, Techno had to worry not just about himself; he’d have the rest of the orchestra actively watching him for cues if their conductor screwed up, which was why he needed to be able to play the piece with his eyes closed. If anyone got lost, it absolutely could not be him.

This was why he disliked being concertmaster sometimes. Techno cared very much for his music, sure, but that care did not extend to the pressure it put on him. He did not want to have to tread on eggshells all the time. He’d rather be in the back of the first violins at this rate, following someone else. He wasn’t someone who could take charge with the charismatic ease that the concertmaster before him seemed to have, with her striking blonde hair and loud, authoritative voice. Techno was pretty quiet in person, and his sense of humour was definitely far too dry for most peoples’ tastes.

And yet here he was, as concertmaster. Techno sat down slowly onto his bed, allowing his sore fingertips some rest. He was sure they were covered with indentations from pressing into the violin strings, especially the E string, which was the thinnest and therefore the most painful to press on. He’d been practising this piece for almost two hours now, and there was still the most important piece left.

Reaching for his music folder, Techno quickly retrieved the score he was looking for. It was Winter from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. This year, he’d been offered the chance to play solo. He hadn’t told Phil or Wilbur or Tommy, intending on it being a surprise - and he’d purposely waited for Tommy to leave the dorm to go out with some of his friends before beginning practice on it. 

Now that Tommy had left, the dorm was all his. Techno licked his lips, brought his violin to his jaw, and put his bow to the strings.

--------

CAN WE BLOW UP THE SCHOOL

     > #general

tubbo_: omg a concert!!

i’m definitely coming :DDD

Ranboo: if tubbo’s going then i’m going

WilburSoot: what kind of reasoning is that

Ranboo: idk

i just like tubbo

tubbo_: !!!!

i like you too ranboo!!!

Technoblade: uh

jschlatt: kinda sus ngl

Ranboo: ok then i wont turn up

jschlatt: WAIT NO RANBOO

PLEASE

I’VE PRACTISED SO HARD FOR THIS

Ranboo: joking dummy

i’ll come :))

jschlatt: POG

Fundy: do y’all have a list of the stuff ur gonna play

Technoblade: the repertoire? yeah

do you want it?

Fundy: i thought if i had it maybe i could go listen to some of the songs beforehand so i’m more familiar and i can enjoy the concert more

Technoblade: *pieces

Fundy: what

Technoblade: pieces, not songs

but sure i can dm it to you if you want

WilburSoot: why don’t you just send it here techno

so whoever who wants to go can reference it

Technoblade: uhhh

sure ig

[aprilconcert_repertoire.pdf]

here u go

Fundy: thx!!

Ranboo: will take a look :thumbsup:

never been to a classical concert before actually!

jschlatt: hope you’ll enjoy!

BIG TOMMY: WILL ENJOY TECHNO’S PLAYING

jschlatt: .

huhu ;-;

Technoblade: it’s an orchestral concert for a reason

enjoy the whole orchestra’s playing you clowns

we all worked very hard for this

jschlatt: techno!!!! qwq

coming to my rescue

like a white knight

so bright and handsome

WilburSoot: jesus fucking christ

can we go two seconds without schlatt being weird

jschlatt: YOU TAUGHT ME THIS BEHAVIOUR WILBUR

WilburSoot: ??????when the fuck

jschlatt: WHEN YOU WERE BORN INTO THE WORLD WITH THOSE GOOD LOOKS

UGH

WilburSoot: you need help

Slimecicle: i don’t think i can come to the concert :(((

have smth else on that day

y’all enjoy the concert for me okay?

Fundy: CHARLIE NOOOOO

;-;

Slimecicle: sadge

BIG TOMMY: ILL SEND YOU VIDEOS OF THE CONCERT LATER

DONT WORRY CHARLIE

I GOT YOU

Slimecicle: thanks tommy :))

Fundy: actually i have an idea

since the concert is at 7pm we should meet for dinner

BIG TOMMY: OMG SOUNDS POG

WE GET TO MEET PEOPLE WE HAVEN’T MET YET

I HAVEN’T MET RANBOO

Ranboo: oh that’s a good idea

we definitely should

Fundy: list of people who are going: fundy

add your name if you’re going to the concert

Ranboo: list of people who are going: fundy, ranboo, tubbo

tubbo_: thanks ranboo!

Ranboo: <3

tubbo_: <3

Slimecicle: ew

BIG TOMMY: list of people who are going: fundy, ranboo, tubbo, BIG TOMS, WILBUR

WilburSoot: why do you have to type in all caps

BIG TOMMY: FOR THE EFFECT

WilburSoot: well sweetie whatever effect you wanted it isn’t working

BIG TOMMY: BULLY

Ranboo: wait the mahler symphony is actually so good?

it’s like 18 minutes long but

i would listen to this unironically

Technoblade: :))

if you like chaotic and angsty you should listen to shostakovich’s stuff

he was a russian composer oppressed by the government

tchaikovsky for something more romantic

Ranboo: wow

didn’t know classical had such variety

i thought it was just

idk

complex stuff that i wouldn’t understand

Technoblade: well now you know

Ranboo: yea

i’m gonna go listen to the rest of this list omg

i can’t wait to hear you guys play mahler

Technoblade: i can’t wait to perform it too

Fundy: WAIT HELLO?????

THE BEAT DROP IN WINTER???????????

HOLY SHIT

jschlatt: what is this

whenever i tell my friends i play the cello they ask for canon in d and nothing else

then i play like the fucking bach cello suite and they dont care

and here people actually appreciate other non-mainstream pieces???? impossible

Fundy: it’s so good

holy shit

ok but the video i’m watching of winter has a guy standing in front?

Technoblade: that’s a soloist

Fundy: oh

they’re important right

Technoblade: most definitely

they play their parts by themselves without the orchestra

they’re like the star of the show so as to speak

Fundy: woah

so who’s the soloist for you guys then???

Technoblade: uh

show up to find out ig

Fundy: OH I WILL

THIS IS SO GOOD

Technoblade: :))))

--------

CAN WE BLOW UP THE SCHOOL

     > #general

jschlatt: @Technoblade help

what does allegro ma non troppo mean again

Technoblade: fast but not too fast

jschlatt: oh ok thanks

Technoblade: how do you not know this

WilburSoot: skill issue

jschlatt: IM GOING TO DELETE MYSELF

Chapter Text

Tommy elbowed Wilbur excitedly, bouncing alongside him as they walked down the nicely-cobbled path outside Wilbur’s dorm. “Isn’t it cool?” he said, practically aglow with anticipation. “We get to meet everyone for dinner, and then we get to see Techno play-”

“And Schlatt,” Wilbur added, smiling fondly at Tommy’s antics.

“And Schlatt,” Tommy agreed, but quickly moved on. “-the restaurant we’re going to has some really great food! Fundy said it was good, especially the prawn noodles and the fried rice, and that the queue is usually stupidly long but he’s reserved a table for us-”

Wilbur’s smile grew a little wider. “Tommy,” he said patiently, “I can’t taste very well.”

That halted Tommy in his tracks. He paused mid-sentence and drooped sadly, suddenly feeling very morose. “I forgot,” he mumbled. 

He heard Wilbur’s soft chuckle from beside him. “It’s fine,” the older boy said. “I probably won’t eat much anyway.”

Tommy glanced at him. “Why not?”

Wilbur returned his glance with a pained look. “Dunno,” he said. “My head hurts a little bit.”

Concern immediately blossomed within Tommy’s chest. He was so accustomed to jumping to the worst conclusions with Wilbur that he couldn’t help but worry, even if the symptoms were mild. “Are you feeling okay? You don’t have to go out with us.”

Wilbur shook his head. “I’ll be alright,” he answered. “Besides, I don’t want to check back in now. With how close it is to dinner the queue will probably be about a mile long.”

Tommy grimaced. “That’s true.” He took Wilbur’s hand. “But if you feel unwell, just let me know? I’ll bullshit some excuse for us to go home.”

Wilbur nodded, but the silent gratitude in his eyes was apparent. 

Tommy grinned at him and resumed his jubilant skipping, buoyed along on the wave of excitement of meeting all his friends. “Do you think Fundy’s taller or shorter than me?” he mused aloud.

“Taller,” said Wilbur instantly.

“Hey!” Tommy protested. “Why was there no hesitation, you bitch?”

Wilbur shrugged, laughing as he dodged a swipe Tommy aimed at his bicep. “You’re short,” he stated matter-of-factly, ducking under Tommy’s angry swing.

“I’m not!” Tommy huffed. “And you’re slippery for someone so big.”

The mischievous glint in his pseudo-brother’s warm brown eyes had Tommy instantly regretting what he’d said.

“Don’t,” he hissed.

“Skill issue,” said Wilbur.

Then the taller boy was taking off, cackling as Tommy chased him, shrieking threats about how dead he was if he laid hands on his tall, lanky body. This game of cat-and-mouse only stopped when Tommy ran out of breath and had to stop, bending over to ease the stitch in his side.

“You’re surprisingly unfit,” Wilbur said, jogging up to him. The son of a bitch didn’t even look frazzled. “I expected better of you, Thomas Simons.”

Tommy shot him a dirty look with no real bite to it. “I’ll kill you,” he threatened, but it was hard to sound threatening when you were panting and puffing with your arms wrapped around your midriff.

“Sure you will,” Wilbur laughed, with a casualness that Tommy wanted to whack out of him. “We’re about five minutes away from the restaurant, so I suggest you save your breath, idiot.”

Tommy grumbled as he trailed after Wilbur. Somehow his older brother always managed to triumph over him in physical altercations, and that was a thorn in his side. Tommy resolved to secretly go to the gym one day and take Wilbur by surprise when he’d finally developed his massive biceps; but for now, he’d have to hang his head and accept defeat.

The restaurant that Fundy had recommended was fancy, but not fancy to the point where Tommy got uncomfortable just looking at its exterior. And just as Fundy had predicted, the queue was about ten miles long. Tommy inwardly thanked the gods that Fundy had such good foresight and had reserved a table for them prior, because standing outside in a snaking line of people for an hour was not on his agenda today.

“Table 34,” Wilbur said, looking at his phone. “He sent us the confirmation on Discord earlier.”

Tommy stepped into the restaurant and was immediately hit with the fragrance that signalled the presence of masterful cooking. He breathed in deep, wanting to fill his entire body with that scent as though he were an empty bottle, but as more people streamed past him looking for their tables, Tommy was forced to move as well.

“Here, Toms,” Wilbur called above the din, and Tommy turned just in time to see him duck under a white curtain. 

Following him revealed that Table 34 was in fact set within a room of its own, separated from the rest of the crowd by the white curtain they’d just passed through. Around that table were multiple people, already chatting lightheartedly amongst each other, looking comfortable and at ease.

“Hey guys!” called a familiar voice. Tubbo was waving at them from across the table, a huge grin on his face.

“Tubbo!” Tommy yelled, sprinting over to his friend’s side.

The rest of dinner was a blur. Tommy was a natural extrovert, so he had no problem bouncing from new person to new person and getting to know them up close and personal. Ranboo, he found out, was a boy even taller than Wilbur (if that was possible) with dirty brown hair. Fundy was in fact taller than him (screw Wilbur), with brown hair and a friendly face. Then there were people who had decided to go last minute: Niki, who was dressed as sweetly as her heart was; Minx, who made the very bold decision to wear thick eyeliner despite the fact that they were going to a classical concert and not a pub; Jack Manifold, who was shorter than Tommy with a clean buzz cut- in short, they all got on so well together that the hour they had flew by in a blink. By the time it was half past six, they had paid and filed out of the restaurant, still talking animatedly.

Tommy took this chance to slink to the back of the crowd where Wilbur was. “Hey,” he whispered, nudging the taller boy.

Wilbur raised his gaze from the floor to glance at him. Immediately, Tommy was shocked by the strange pallor of his face and the lack of vibrancy in his eyes. “You don’t look good,” he said.

Wilbur shrugged listlessly. “Might’ve been the noise earlier,” he said quietly. “Or the social situation. My headache is really bad now; I’ve been trying to fight it all dinner.”

Tommy’s heart dropped. “Let’s go home,” he said immediately, taking Wilbur’s hand.

But his older brother wrested his hand from Tommy’s grasp gently, a sad smile on his face. “No,” he said. “I want you to go with them, Toms.”

“I can’t just leave-”

“Go,” Wilbur repeated, even firmer this time. “I want you to go. I want you to enjoy time with your friends. I don’t want you to miss out just because you have to take care of me.”

Tommy bit his lip. “Wilbur,” he began.

“No. Toms, I want you to go.” Wilbur cracked a small grin at him. “Besides, if you don’t go, who’ll make fun of Techno after the performance, huh?”

“But-”

Wilbur gave him a light shove. He mouthed ‘go’ at Tommy once more before Tommy was immediately caught up in the conversation between Ranboo and Niki as the other boy asked for his opinion about pineapples on pizza. Tommy managed a half-hearted reply, his heart still worried for Wilbur. But the moment he looked back, his older brother had already gone.

--------

@WilburSoot

BIG TOMMY: wil please text me or something when you get home yeah

WilburSoot: i will toms

don’t worry about me

enjoy the concert!

BIG TOMMY: okay

call me if u need anything

WilburSoot: i will

BIG TOMMY: okay

take care please

WilburSoot: i will

love you toms

BIG TOMMY: love you too wilbur

be safe

--------

The auditorium was already brimming with people by the time they got there. It was a good twenty minutes before the concert and it was clear that whatever marketing campaign the school orchestra had used had worked like a charm, because the hall was packed full of people. Tommy briefly recognised some faces from his class or from his co-curricular - clearly the rest of the students had been enticed by the promise of getting to see their peers play.

Their group settled into the row specified on their tickets. Tommy slid into his seat beside Niki, swallowing painfully at the empty seat next to him. It was supposed to be Wilbur’s. The guilt swamped him for a split second, and he wondered if it was too late to bail to go back to Wilbur. But then Wilbur’s words echoed in his head: I want you to enjoy time with your friends. I don’t want you to miss out just because you have to take care of me.

Tommy breathed in deeply, feeling the tenseness in his chest expand. He tried his best to shake the lingering feeling of worry, but despite how much he thought about Techno’s performance, his mind kept wandering back to Wilbur.

“Tommy?”

Tommy whipped around at the sound of the sweet female voice. Niki was looking at him, concerned. “Where’s Wilbur?”

“He wasn’t feeling well,” Tommy stuttered. “He told me to go ahead with you guys. He went back to the dorms to rest.”

Niki’s eyebrows furrowed with mild concern. “Oh,” she said. “How come he didn’t tell us?”

Tommy laughed nervously. “He doesn’t like to bother people.”

“Okay.” Niki chewed her lip thoughtfully. “But will he be alright going back on his own?”

That’s exactly what I’m worried about, Tommy wanted to tell her. But despite the uneasiness creeping up the back of his throat, he clamped his lips together and nodded.

Niki sighed. “That’s good, then.” She suddenly fixed Tommy with a meaningful look. “Sometimes I’m worried about him.”

“Why?” Tommy asked.

“He just… doesn’t seem like himself sometimes,” Niki said. “You know that nagging feeling you get when something’s wrong? Sometimes he gives me that feeling. He behaves a little differently, talks a different way, things like that.”

Tommy’s breath was hitched in his throat by now. “Really?” he laughed again, skittish and high-pitched. “That’s funny.”

Niki shrugged lightly. “Maybe it’s just me,” she giggled.

Before Tommy could reply, they were cut off by the lights dimming. The audience went silent immediately, as if following an unspoken etiquette - their row hushed in accordance, chatter dying down quickly. There was about a minute of tense quiet, and then the curtains lifted. 

There, arranged in the customary semicircle, was the school orchestra. On their left, the first violins, with Techno in the concertmaster’s seat; then the second violins, followed by violas, and the cellos to their right. Tommy squinted against the bright stage lights, hoping to glimpse Schlatt; but from the distance they were sat at, he couldn’t make out shit. He recognised Techno instantly from his posture and his short brown hair, but Schlatt was someone he was unfamiliar with.

One of the oboe players raised their instrument and began to play a long, sustained note. Tommy recognised this note as an A.

“They’re tuning,” he heard Niki whisper to Fundy, who looked a little confused.

The wind section matched the oboe’s A. Then the strings, and then the rest of the orchestra followed until everyone was tuned. Then the oboe stopped.

The polished wooden podium in the centre remained unmanned. They were kept waiting for another thirty seconds, and then Techno stood. The rest of the orchestra followed his lead, standing as one, and then the school conductor walked in from the right side of the stage to audience applause. Tommy clapped along everyone else as the whole orchestra bowed in sync, before sitting back down.

The conductor turned back to the orchestra and raised his baton. On cue, the orchestra raised their instruments.

Tommy briefly looked at his phone for the repertoire Techno had sent them. Symphony No. 6 in B. Minor, Op. 4 “Pathétique”, read the first piece. By Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky.

He faintly recognised the name. Techno had told him about Tchaikovsky once, Tommy remembered. But that had probably been a good few months back, and he couldn’t recall much of what he’d heard. Nevertheless, he sat forward, excited to hear the orchestra play.

Their school orchestra was wonderful. Tommy knew this, and the students knew this. There was an almost-tangible sense of pride in the air as the concert went on, each piece played beautifully by the orchestra. Even Ranboo, Fundy and Tubbo, none of whom had ever experienced a classical concert before, looked positively entranced by the performance. Tommy grinned to himself. He’d been like them once, clueless about classical music, but when you had an extremely talented violinist for an older brother you really didn’t have much choice. After all, Tommy was accustomed to hearing Techno practise his pieces in their shared dorm. Often, he’d do his homework to the sounds of Techno fine tuning Mozart. Classical music had become a much bigger part of his life than he ever expected it to be since he stopped piano lessons a while ago.

Two hours in, and they were finally at the last piece: The Four Seasons (“Winter”): I. Allegro non molto, by Antonio Vivaldi.

“This is the one with the soloist,” Fundy whispered.

Tommy’s eyebrows raised slightly. He wanted to see who was the orchestra’s chosen soloist, feeling slightly indignant that there was someone better than Techno. But to his utmost surprise, Techno stood from his seat and walked to the front. He bowed to the audience, who was presumably just as stunned as Tommy was.

“Oh my god,” Ranboo muttered.

Then the conductor raised his baton, and off the orchestra went. This time, however, Techno didn’t play with them. He waited a few bars before lifting his violin to his shoulder, and what came from his instrument was a beautiful set of trills that made goosebumps rise across Tommy’s skin. They were carefully played so that the notes were fragile and light, yet congruent and melodic: there was a chilly quality to them that Tommy couldn’t explain even in a thousand-word essay. The trills continued, and so did the orchestra behind him: rhythmic, steady notes that followed Techno’s playing.

“Holy shit,” Fundy murmured. His voice was thick with awe.

Tommy was leaning so far forward in his chair by now that if he leaned forward any more, he’d bury his chin in the hair of the person sitting directly below him.

And then, after a long series of trills, the orchestra began to build up slowly, and then it was suddenly just Techno with a series of fast and sprightly notes. He ended that series on a low trill and the orchestra went back to their rhythm, only for it to be interrupted again by another solo part, delivered cleanly by Techno’s skills. Again, that impeccable style of playing; Tommy wanted to cry with pride. He knew how hard Techno practised for concerts. But there was something about him that always filled Tommy with unbridled admiration no matter how many times he witnessed Techno’s playing: that stunning ability of his to emote with just his movements and musicality, the way his instrument seemed to sing under his fingers… it was true that Techno was absolutely brilliant at whatever he chose to pursue with his heart.

The piece only lasted about three minutes. But to Tommy, those three minutes were enough to experience the biting cold of winter, the frantic scurry for shelter and warmth, and the desperation of an animal lost in the woods - and when the orchestra finally finished on a long, drawn-out note, the entire audience burst into raucous applause. Techno bowed again, far too humble for what he’d achieved, and sat back down in his chair. He looked unfazed, but Tommy knew that inside, he had to be shaking from nerves.

From there, it was a short while more as the orchestra bowed together again and the curtains fell, after which the lights came back on and the students began filing out, already chattering amongst themselves.

“Jesus,” Fundy breathed, the first one in their row to speak. “That was… amazing.”

“Yeah,” Ranboo echoed.

Niki giggled. “You both look like you’re lost in space.”

“Maybe I am,” replied Fundy dazedly.

“Good,” Minx sniffed. “Hope you die.”

Tommy laughed as Fundy quickly shot back an insult, pulling out his phone. He wanted to check on Wilbur. 

But as his screen came on, a slight chill went down his spine: Wilbur had not texted him. He opened his Discord just to make sure, and indeed, there had been nothing else from Wilbur after that last message of ‘be safe’ that Tommy had sent before they’d even reached the auditorium.

He swiped down to check the time. It had been nearly two and a half hours since their last contact, and Wilbur had not texted him. Tommy stood from his seat, unable to take his gaze off his phone. A dreadful sensation was beginning to fill him from head to toe.

“Tommy?” he heard someone ask.

“I have to go,” he stuttered out, stumbling out from their row.

Tommy pushed past the students lingering in the aisle and fought his way down the steps towards the stage, where, ignoring the sign that read ‘authorised personnel only’ , he yanked open the door to the backstage and disappeared inside. He proceeded to embarrass himself repeatedly by barging into rooms with people inside unprompted, but his panic only allowed him to offer a feeble apology before he was backing out and moving onto the next room. After three rooms, he finally stumbled across the room with the person he was looking for, and despite the confused stares he got from the others inside, Tommy beelined for Techno, who was laughing lowly at something someone else said.

He strode over and grabbed Techno by the shoulder, who then turned to him. When Techno fully registered that he was, in fact, not looking at another member of the orchestra but rather Tommy, his face twisted in utter confusion. “Tommy?”

“It’s Wilbur,” gushed Tommy breathlessly. “He said he wasn’t feeling well- he was supposed to turn up for the concert, but after dinner he had a headache and said he’d head home first- I offered to go with him but he insisted I join the rest of the group and come see your performance. I told him to text me when he reached the dorms and he said okay, but it’s been two and a half hours and he hasn’t gotten back to me.”

Techno’s face instantly paled. “Oh, god.”

The friend he’d been talking to and laughing with before Tommy’s intrusion raised an eyebrow, clearly having heard the whole thing. “Yo, Techno,” he said. “Is your friend okay?”

Techno just shook his head. “I have to go,” he told them, shrugging off his coattails. “Tell the conductor I won’t be coming for the banquet,” he called, already rushing towards the door. “Thanks!”

They were both out of the room before his friend could inquire further. As the door banged behind them, Techno asked, “Did he say if he was dissociating?”

Tommy shook his head. “Just that he had a bad headache,” he replied. “But migraines are a sign of-”

“I think so too,” Techno said. “Try calling him. I’ll call Phil. It’s so late, and if he’s out there alone…”

Tommy barely held in a sob, dialling Wilbur’s number through a vision full of tears. This was his fault. If he’d just thought about Wilbur instead of himself for a minute and followed him back to the dorms, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. But the panic was making his fingers shake, and as the dial tone rang on and on, Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, finally surrendering to the complex cocktail of emotions within him. A tear slipped down his cheek. He’d never been particularly religious, but he swore silently that he’d worship whichever god that could make Wilbur answer his phone. Of course, Wilbur didn’t. 

He dropped the phone from his ear just in time to see Techno conversing with Phil in a serious tone, his eyes hardened. Once Techno got off the line, Tommy was leaping to inquire, “What do we do now?”

“Phil’s going to rush over,” Techno stated. “For now, we’ll just need to search by ourselves.”

He turned towards the door and rushed through it, Tommy following with tears running down his cheeks and his chest tight with fear. There was something about Techno’s playing that expressed Winter so vividly, but his heart was its own instrument now, and the Winter it was playing was something far more chilling.

Chapter Text

CAN WE BLOW UP THE SCHOOL

     > #general

Ranboo: yo @BIG TOMMY u all good?

you left so suddenly

Slimecicle: ?? what happened

Ranboo: tommy looked kinda shaken and said he had to go and ran off

like immediately after the concert

did you see something on your phone tommy?

tubbo_: tommy? :((

tommyyyyyyy

Ranboo: he’s offline

Fundy: hope he’s all good :(

he seemed like he was in a rush

maybe he had to go somewhere after that??

Ranboo: maybe,,

oh by the way!!!

@Technoblade YOOOOOOOOOOOO

Fundy: OMG

TECHNO MY GUY

Ranboo: DUDE TECHNO KILLED IT

to all those who weren’t there: L

Slimecicle: >:(

fuck u my dad wanted me to go home for dinner for once

fuckin two hour drive

Ranboo: all i can say charlie

is L

Slimecicle: ASKFLAFJKSDAKASFL

clay: did y’all record any videos???

send

Ranboo: uhhhh

@Minx

Minx: what the fock do ya want you little shit

Ranboo: the videos from the concert minx

Minx: oh

[untitled-0417.mp4]

[untitled2-0417.mp4]

jschlatt: hi guys

did anyone see me

Ranboo: no

jschlatt: ;-;

Ranboo: joking

i saw u schlatt

u played well <3

jschlatt: <3

thank you

Minx: [untitled3-0417.mp4]

Fundy: poggers

now we have the videos here in the server forever

Slimecicle: bro the sound quality is so shit

Minx: I TRIED MY BEST YOU MOTHERFOCKER

YOU WEREN’T EVEN THERE

Slimecicle: I TOLD YOU MY DAD WANTED ME HOME

jackmanifold: hope tommy is okay though

tubbo_: yeah :(

jschlatt: bro i fucked up once

hope no one heard

Fundy: oh u did?

yeah no one heard dw

i didn’t notice anything

jschlatt: idk about u but

u know that feeling u get when u mess up smth in front of a huge audience and ur like

‘oh my god i’m going to kms’

as ur heart falls out of ur ass

Fundy: fr

can relate

jschlatt: the moment i fucked up my heart stopped

but thank god it was during the crescendo

and the cellos were going piano

otherwise everyone would’ve known

Ranboo: how did you screw up btw?

jschlatt: came in one bar late

was daydreaming

:P

Fundy: naur bestie

jschlatt: anyway

thank god that’s over

Ranboo: your mom’s over at my house rn

Fundy: LMAOOOO

jschlatt: ok ranboo

fuck u

Ranboo: hehe

too irresistible

Slimecicle: ur moms irresistible 

jschlatt: DESERVED

get him charlie

Slimecicle: i will schlatt

don’t worry

i am the super schlatt defender

Fundy: disgusting

Slimecicle: >:O

jschlatt: ur moms disgusting fundy

Slimecicle: OMG

SCHLATT

jschlatt: NO ONE MESSES WITH CHARLIE

>:(

Fundy: ayo the fuck

i’m getting tag teamed

@Ranboo bro cmon u gotta help me

Ranboo: uhhhh

i messed with schlatt’s mom

Fundy: AYYYYYYYYYYY

jschlatt: alright

i see how this is

wanna fight me bitch

Ranboo: sorry can’t see u down there

let me bend down

Fundy: KEK

Slimecicle: AYO DON’T TOUCH MY SCHLATT

FUCK OFF LANKY BASTARD

jschlatt: charlie :OOO

<<3

Slimecicle: ur my only friend in this cruel world

no one else can be trusted

Ranboo: truly putting the L in charlie

Slimecicle: i put ur mom on my dick last night

Ranboo: wtf

Fundy: ayo

what dick

Slimecicle: ????????????????????

BRO

Ranboo: AHAHHAHAHHFHDSHSDKG

YOU DIDNT HAVE TO DO HIM LIKE THAT

Fundy: .

Ranboo: wait

Fundy: *inhales 

I DID CHARLIE’S MOM LAST NIGHT

Slimecicle: RANBOO

Ranboo: LMAO WHOOPS

Slimecicle: WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO ME

Fundy: RANBOO AND I ARE BESTIES

RANBOO HIGHFIVE

Ranboo: i highfived ur moms ass last night

Fundy: .

Slimecicle: .

Fundy: .

r-ranboo

Ranboo: oh wait

Fundy: ranboo how could u

Ranboo: BRO NO WAIT I FORGOT UR ON MY TEAM

MY FIRST INSTINCT IS JUST TO SPIT OUT UR MOM JOKES

FUNDY WAIT

Fundy: no

n-no one can be trusted

i am,,, utterly destroyed

Ranboo: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Slimecicle: top 10 anime betrayals fr

wtf is this

a shitty watchmojo video?

jschlatt: ,,,this is really what i do be coming back to after i go to take out the trash huh

literally what the fuck goes on

Slimecicle: idk man

Ranboo: FUNDY COM ABCK

FUNDY NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

--------

There were three moments Niki knew something was terribly wrong.

First: when Tommy pulled out his phone and his face went ashen.

Second: when Tommy ran off, looking like the breath had been stolen from his lungs.

Third: when Tommy emerged from the backstage door with Techno, who then both proceeded to barge out the auditorium in a flurry of long limbs and frenzied panic.

Yes, something was terribly wrong. Niki’s body moved instinctively, pushing through the masses of students loitering around as she surged down the stairs to tail Tommy and Techno. She wasn’t the tallest, which was a hindrance, as she had to constantly leap to catch sight of Tommy’s blond head among the heads of other students. It wasn’t the most efficient method, but it was the only method available to her.

Niki wound her way through a group of chattering girls, wincing at the squeeze. Fresh air hit her in the face, and she looked up to realise that she’d tailed Tommy and Techno out of the block. She only had a split second to feel confused: where were they going with such fervour? But as she glimpsed their silhouettes dashing down a nearby path, Niki couldn’t think, only follow, lest she lose them. She immediately swerved down the same path they’d taken.

Dorms, said the worn-down sign next to the cobblestone road. Block 2.

This only made Niki feel more confused. She stayed in Block 1 and knew that Techno and Tommy stayed two floors below her. Yet, Block 1’s path didn’t lead so far in as Block 2’s, as Block 2 was situated behind the science block. And if Tommy and Techno stayed in Block 1, what were they running to Block 2 for? Niki wracked her brain for any possibility. Perhaps they had a friend there?

Soon, she came to the entry to Block 2, where there was a desk, as every block had. The security guard behind it looked like he wasn’t getting paid enough, compared to the guard at Block 1 whom everyone loved and treated like a father. Tommy and Techno were currently standing there, engaged in desperate conversation with the guard. Niki ducked behind a nearby wall and strained her ears, trying to regain her breath from the brief chase.

“Will Gold,” came Techno’s low baritone, more urgent than she’d ever heard it sound. “Level 4, room 49. We’re his friends.”

“Right,” droned an unfamiliar voice, presumably belonging to the security guard. And boy, did he sound like he wanted to go home. “It’s late. You know that I can’t let you in at this hour unless your friend physically comes to pick you up.”

“Please!” 

That was Tommy, but Niki’s heart stuttered. She heard him sob, a sad, juvenile sound torn from the depths of his chest, the type of broken cry that had to have been building for a long time.

The guard sighed. “Why are you crying, kid? Did you leave your phone there or something? Can’t you go one night without your devices?”

“It’s not his phone.” Techno’s voice was edged with careful fury now. “It’s an emergency. We don’t know where our friend went, and we want to check if he’s home before we start searching.”

“Will Gold didn’t sign back in,” the guard said impatiently. “I don’t have him on record after he signed out at 5:14 pm this afternoon.”

Niki swallowed and gathered enough courage to peer out from behind the wall. She saw Tommy all but fall into Techno’s arms, his shoulders shaking as he cried. Techno had a look of genuine distress on his usually-expressionless face, and even from this distance, she could see the strain on his features as he struggled with some internal conflict she knew nothing about.

The two boys began walking away from the desk and back towards her. At this point, Niki’s concern overwhelmed her logic. Seeing Techno, someone normally so composed, look so unnaturally troubled, and Tommy, someone normally so jubilant, look so devastated flipped a switch in her head, and that switch read, in bold red capitals, ‘Help them’.

She was moving before she could process what she was doing, going up to Techno. “Hey,” Niki said, offering a small smile. “What’s going on?”

Techno’s and Tommy’s heads jerked up in sync, both boys looking at her with something akin to horror. Niki took a step back, shock instantly flooding her at the strong response. “I didn’t mean to intrude. Just wondering what was wrong, you know?”

“Niki,” began Techno carefully. His voice wavered, something she had never heard it do before. “What are you doing here?”

“Tommy ran off after the concert, and he didn’t look good,” Niki explained. “Then I saw that he fetched you, and you both looked like you were in a panic. I was worried, so I followed you guys.” She gave the security guard at the desk a glance. “I heard Wilbur’s name. Is he okay?”

Tommy’s swollen eyes squeezed shut at Wilbur’s name, and the youth’s expression crumpled. He buried his face back into Techno’s chest, obviously too wrung out to talk. 

Techno ran a soothing hand through his messy blond hair and breathed out. “Truthfully, probably not,” he admitted.

Ice filled Niki’s veins. “He’s missing?”

“He was feeling a little… indisposed,” Techno said. “He went home before the concert. Or, he was supposed to go home. But he didn’t make it, evidently.”

“Do you think he’s passed out somewhere on campus?” Niki suggested, pulling out her phone. “We could try searching- I could tell the others in the Discord to help, I’m sure they’d be happy to-”

“No!"

The force behind that singular word shocked Niki so badly that she nearly dropped her phone. Techno’s face had gone pale, and his lips trembled for a brief moment as he gazed at her. Then he swallowed, schooled himself into calmness, and shook his head. “Sorry,” he rasped. “But you can’t tell anyone about this.”

“Why?” Niki asked. “He’s lost and probably out cold, and the campus is huge. We need as many people as we can get.”

“No,” Techno insisted. “Listen, Niki. I can’t tell you everything right now, but Wilbur’s most likely not in his body. He could be anywhere. I don’t think he’s on campus.”

Niki tilted her head to the side, horribly lost. “What do you mean not in his body?”

Tommy made a sniffling sound and curled into himself. At this, Techno seemed to snap out of some trance he’d been in, the urgency returning to his demeanour. “We’re wasting time standing here talking,” he said, and made off with a wave of his hand that told her to follow him.

Niki did so. “Techno-”

“Wilbur has a disorder,” Techno breathed, taking long strides towards the main gates. “A mental disorder.”

“Okay,” Niki replied, even as her heart fell out of her chest. The sadness she was supposed to feel with this revelation was swept aside by the panic, but she had no doubt it would come back to plague her later.

Techno glanced at her and sighed heavily. “I know you won’t leave, even if I ask you to. So please just try to keep up and help us find Wilbur.”

“I will,” Niki promised. “But where do we start?”

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” Techno said. He sounded weary, but at the same time, there was something about him that made Niki feel like this had happened before. “Wilbur could be anywhere.”

A ringtone cut through the air between them like a knife through butter. Techno wrestled his phone out of his pocket and pressed it to his ear hastily. “Hello?” His face lit up for the first time that night. “Phil?”

Niki’s fear was briefly assuaged just at the sound of that name. It was a wonder how Phil managed to be such a strong figure that even she, who didn’t know him that well, immediately thought of resilience and comfort when he was brought up.

“He’s not in the dorms. Yeah, we’ve checked with the security guard. He hasn’t signed back in- I mean he could’ve snuck in without signing in, but I feel like it’s way more likely that he’s off-campus by now.” Techno paused, holding Tommy’s hand. “Should we just start checking nearby? You’ll drive over?”

Oh, if they had a car, they could cover so much more ground. Niki’s heart leapt eagerly at the prospect.

“You’ll pick us up? Yeah, okay. Oh, wait, Phil, um-” Techno gave Niki a side-eyed glance. “Um, so, Niki is here with us.”

“Hey, Phil,” Niki called towards the phone.

“No, she saw us running off and followed us because she was worried,” Techno continued. “I haven’t told her about it. Of course not, I wouldn’t, not without Wilbur’s permission… but she’s here, and I already know from her face that telling her to leave is futile. What do we do?”

Phil said something, to which Techno nodded. “Okay, see you. We’ll wait at the main gates. Bye.”

“Sorry,” Niki said, as soon as Techno hung up. “I’m just really worried. I don’t mean to cause trouble for you.”

Techno gave a slight shake of his head. “It’s alright,” he said, looking into the distance. “Thanks for worrying about him, and us.”

“Of course.”

They stood there in silence for another five minutes or so before a black car pulled up. At the wheel was Phil. “Hey, guys. Hey, Niki,” he greeted. “Hop in.”

As she slipped into the backseat, Niki couldn’t help but think: Phil was amazing. He was the guardian figure for Techno, Tommy and Wilbur, but Wilbur especially, she knew, and cared about all of them a tremendous lot. Yet his voice was friendly despite the situation, and if not for the slight tightness in his words, she would never have inferred that something was wrong if she heard him speak.

“Should we just drive around?” Phil asked.

“That worked last time,” Techno replied, buckling his seat belt. “At this point, it’s our best bet.”

Phil turned back to the road, stepping on the accelerator. The car pulled away from campus and began cruising down the asphalt road.

“Just keep a lookout, Niki,” Phil said. “I can’t be looking as I drive, so I’ll need you to do that for me, please.”

“I will,” Niki said. She was already staring out the window anyway, craning her neck to catch the face of anyone around Wilbur’s height.

In the end, they ended up driving three rounds around campus before Phil stopped at the curb. As he turned the engine down and directed his gaze to the rear-view mirror, Niki did a double-take at his face. His eyes were now watery and his cheeks were red, a stark contrast from how collected he’d seemed thirty minutes ago. 

“Techno?” he called, his voice shaking.

“Yep,” Techno responded calmly. “I’m here, Phil.”

“What if we called the police?”

Techno blinked once before he seemingly registered what Phil had said. “Phil, you know how much he went through with the police. That’s a bad idea.”

“I don’t know what else to do!” Phil cried out, slamming his hands on the steering wheel. Niki flinched. She wasn’t scared, necessarily; just horribly pained by Phil’s grief. It was the grief of a father who didn’t know where his son was.

“We’ll find him, Phil,” Techno said firmly, but not unkindly. “We’ll find him. But not by calling the police.”

Phil seemed to be defeated by this. He turned back around and slumped in his seat, hands covering his face. 

Niki chewed on her lip, heart thudding in her chest as she sat frozen staring at the world outside. At this hour, the crowds had thinned dramatically, and the few stragglers that were still out and about seemed nothing more than drifting spectres going about their own business, detached from the world. They almost looked like a part of the backdrop.

She was reminded of what Wilbur had told her before, once, about people late at night looking like extras in a play, and how the world itself was a gigantic stage. Their conversation went something like this:

Wilbur: You know, Niki, sometimes, I think people are just pawns on a grand stage. Especially at night. When you look out the window and see people walking by, does it ever occur to you that that’ll probably be the first and last time you ever see those strangers? Just like extras in a play. They appear once and never again.

Niki, laughing: You have a curious way of thinking.

Wilbur, anxiously: Do you think it’s weird?

Niki: No, I think it’s interesting. You sound like you do a lot of thinking.

Wilbur: I think a lot, all the time. Just because I’m shit at school doesn’t mean I don’t have a brain, you know. But the most important thing I’ve come to realise is that everyone is part of a play, and just like they’re extras in our play, we’re extras in theirs. In our play, the only thing that matters are the major characters - friends and family, close relatives, important people. So you’re a major character in my play, Niki.

Niki: That’s amazing, Will.

Wilbur, shyly: Yeah?

Niki: Yeah, Will. You’re amazing.

Wilbur: No, no, I’m not.

Niki: Yeah, you are.

Wilbur: (laughs)

Wilbur, wistfully: I wish I’d met some of the nicer major characters earlier in life, Niki. I really do.

Niki: You didn’t have nice major characters back then?

Wilbur: I had one. My mom. But the rest weren’t nice. To me, anyway. Sometimes it got so bad I had to run away somewhere, just to be by myself for a bit.

Niki: Where did you go?

Wilbur: There’s this nice hill, with a bench. It’s old and stuff, but I like it there. No one knows it exists. It’s cosy, and I just sit there for a while. Sometimes, Milo- you know Milo? Yeah, the cat! Milo used to follow me wherever I went. He’d come sit beside me, and we’d watch the world go by together in the quiet.

Niki, softly: Sounds nice, Will.

Wilbur: Yeah, it was. It was very nice.

Niki blinked. The beginnings of a new dawn were culminating within her mind, slowly, like the pieces of a puzzle falling into place.

“I know where Wilbur is,” she said.

Chapter Text

Niki had never gambled before, but if she had to guess what gambling felt like, she would suppose it felt something like this: clinging with unrivalled desperation to a tiny strand of hope, yet still hungry for something more - it was a sensation of intense conflict that she did not enjoy. Perhaps gambling was more pleasurable if the stakes weren’t as high as they were now? She wasn’t sure exactly how much money was needed before gambling started to become less of a thrilling escapade and more of a poisonous drug, but it wasn’t like it mattered, because Wilbur was worth more than any sum of money. Niki knew the stakes were the highest they could possibly be, and this leap of faith was the biggest she’d ever taken in her entire life.

In short, she’d better be right.

“Niki,” said Phil haltingly, the uncertainty in his voice shining through. “Are you sure? We’ve been driving for-”

“Yes,” Niki replied immediately, not giving the terrible queasiness in her abdomen time to expand and swallow her whole. She grabbed hold of her fear and squashed it deep, deep down. This was her idea. If she herself couldn’t believe in it, how could she expect the others to? “Trust me, Phil. Please.”

Phil said nothing. He just drove on, shoulders squared, his jaw set in a tense line. Next to her, Techno offered a nod of solidarity. The expression on his face was calm and benign. Niki couldn’t read his dark brown eyes, but there was a staunch comfort she drew from his unwavering composure. He had the uncanny talent to regulate his emotions - perhaps the day Techno broke under pressure was the day the world ended.

She drew her glance away from Techno as they rounded a bend and began to ascend a gentle hill. “Just a little more,” she said. 

The urge to wring her hands together in anxiety was almost unbearable now. The moment of truth was approaching: would Wilbur really be there? Or had she just led them on a wild goose chase for the past forty minutes?

The car pulled to a stop when Niki gave the cue. When she opened the door and stepped outside, the cold air hit her like a slap in the face, buffeting her fair and briefly knocking the oxygen from her lungs. Niki chased after that stolen oxygen, goosebumps rising all over the skin of her arms as her breath plumed in the air. The straggling path before her was both familiar and nostalgic, but now, it felt equally imposing, leading into the darkened trees and shrouded by the blanket of night.

Suddenly, Niki wasn’t so sure anymore. The burst of confidence she’d had earlier now seemed almost laughable in the face of the vast shadows before her.

“Niki,” said someone quietly.

She turned to find Techno beside her. He too was looking at the path, hair windswept. “He’s right,” murmured the brunet. “Life is like a play. And in plays, characters struggle and falter.” He turned chestnut eyes to meet hers. “You take Literature. You’ve studied Romeo and Juliet, haven’t you?”

Niki nodded wordlessly.

Techno grinned. “Good,” he said. “Then it won’t sound like I’m speaking a different language to you.”

He took a deep breath in. “In Romeo and Juliet, characters struggle with feuds and duties. This struggle ends up killing a large portion of the cast: Mercutio, Tybalt, Paris, and eventually Romeo and Juliet themselves. Henrik Ibsen’s A Doll’s House deals with power imbalances, love and objectification, ending in the protagonist triumphantly leaving her husband for her own personal freedom, tired of being treated like his possession.”

There was a silent meaning to his words, spoken not in the language of logic but in the language of viscerality. Niki’s brain could not comprehend it; rather, her heart did, and it sang in response, like a bird in the eaves of a tree at sunrise.

“In this play, we’re also struggling,” Techno continued. The wry smile playing at his lips was inching wider as he spoke. “But if all characters stalled in their fears and apprehensions, plays would never get anywhere. So will you venture past that, Niki? The show must go on.”

He was horribly perceptive. Somehow he’d identified what fears had exactly been plaguing her and woven a narrative that appealed to her emotionally, all in his own head and without once opening his mouth to ask her about her feelings. And now the languid confidence Techno exuded seemed to buoy her as well, because Niki found herself balling her hands into fists and nodding with newfound determination.

“The show must go on,” she echoed, finally returning Techno’s smile. Then she breathed out, turned her gaze forward and began to walk. 

She would not look back, no matter how loud the insecurity in her mind wailed. Life was a play, and Niki fully intended for hers to go somewhere.

--------

A beautiful, quiet grove, overlooked by the moon. The dampness of the grass glows under the pale light illuminating the area, giving the impression of somewhat-recent rain. In the centre, a singular wooden bench, visibly weathered and aged. On the bench sits FRIEND, a young boy with curly brown hair and a lanky figure. He has a messenger bag slung across his body, and his curls are wet with rain. Despite this, his skin is flushed and healthy, and his beauty is boyish and demure. The black sky colours him a dark periwinkle. Late at night.

Beside him, a grey cat sits with its paws tucked under its body. FRIEND smiles down at it with a loving gaze, smoothing his hand across its silky fur.

FRIEND. It’s so much more peaceful out here, Milo.

[The cat meows, licking his hand. FRIEND laughs, a pleasant, charming sound that seems to lighten the solemn atmosphere. His eyes are warm with joy. Suddenly, behind him, footsteps. Leaves crunch, seemingly under multiple pairs of feet, disrupting the quiet. FRIEND turns in surprise, eyes widened, arm now shielding Milo protectively.]

FRIEND [shakily]. Who’s there?

[Enter a ragged group of four, one female and three males. Among them, at the helm, NIKI, a sweet-looking, small-sized girl, dressed delicately. Her face is almost overwhelmed with relief. Behind her, a tall brunet with knowing eyes and a neutral expression, TECHNO. By his side, a slightly shorter boy with blond hair, TOMMY. Trailing behind is a stocky man wearing clothes that seem to have been thrown on in a terrible hurry with how rumpled they are, PHIL. FRIEND seemingly recognises TECHNO, TOMMY and PHIL. He beams at them.]

FRIEND. Techno! Tommy! Phil!

PHIL [despairingly]. Oh, thank god.

[He surges forward to sweep FRIEND into a hug. FRIEND hugs back, overjoyed. In the background, TOMMY begins to weep.]

FRIEND. Phil! Come say hi to Milo. [he looks up at TECHNO.] You too, Techno! He’s on the bench, right there. Did you know he was already waiting when I got here?

[PHIL and TECHNO exchange a worried glance.]

TECHNO [venturing]. Friend…?

FRIEND. Yeah?

TECHNO. Okay. You’re Friend. [he exhales and scrubs his face.] I’m glad you’re safe.

FRIEND. I’m glad you’re here too! Come pet Milo. He’s a good boy; he won’t mind.

[Everyone looks to the bench. When they turn back, their faces are almost identically puzzled.]

TECHNO. Friend… there’s no one there.

[FRIEND turns, almost woodenly. His face is pale when he looks back at them, features contorted with a look that is almost… pleading.]

FRIEND. Don’t scare me. Milo’s right there. He’s been there all this time, on the bench, waiting for me. [he laughs uneasily.] Guys, come on.

[No one affirms his words. FRIEND hesitates, his enthusiasm replaced by discouraged confusion. His eyebrows furrow.]

FRIEND. Okay… maybe you guys just don’t want to see Milo? That’s alright. But he’s my best friend, so I’m going to sit with him for a while.

PHIL. Friend, it’s late. You know how people sometimes get a little out of it when they’re tired?

FRIEND [sudden anger]. Oh, no, no, no. Don’t tell me I’m confused. Don’t tell me I’m confused when Milo’s right there, and I can see him. Don’t tell me you can’t see him when he’s clearly there, on the bench, right in front of you.

PHIL. Friend-

[He reaches out for FRIEND, who backs away rapidly, shaking his head. When PHIL steps forth he cries out, stumbling away towards the bench.]

NIKI [fearfully]. What on Earth is going on?

TECHNO. It’s a long story. A very long one.

FRIEND. Don’t touch me!

PHIL [desperately]. Friend, please.

FRIEND. No!

[He trips over nothing, but continues to scramble away. His heels dig into the soil and sends it flying.]

PHIL. I’m trying to help you, Friend, please. It’s very late, you’re so far out from campus, and you must be so tired. Come on, let’s go home.

FRIEND [sobbing]. I don’t want to. I want to stay here with Milo, where everything’s peaceful and quiet and safe. I don’t want to go back to the noise and stress. You can’t make me.

PHIL. Everyone’s going to start missing you all, Friend. The teachers will wonder why you guys aren’t turning up to class.

FRIEND. I don’t care. It’s hurting me. It’s hurting him. It’s so hard and painful, Phil, and it hurts so badly. I don’t want to go back.

TECHNO. Friend…

FRIEND [rambling]. It hurts, it hurts, because it never seems to be enough, no matter how much I soothe us, no matter how much I lull us to sleep, no matter how much I tell us it’s going to be okay… the stress just keeps coming and coming and I can’t remember things anymore, even when I’m here, I can’t remember things like dates and lessons and it’s killing me! It’s killing me.

PHIL. I know. I’m sorry.

FRIEND. It’s killing us, Phil.

[He slumps over, defeated, and falls silent. The wind whistles through the trees, sending stray leaves floating down around them, around FRIEND, who sniffles and draws his knees to his chest.]

PHIL. I didn’t know you were under so much stress, Friend. [he bends down.] I’m sorry I didn’t notice.

[FRIEND shakes his head slightly.]

FRIEND [emotionlessly]. Milo’s dead, isn’t he?

[PHIL flinches.]

FRIEND. I want him to be here, so badly. But he’s not.

[The moonlight softens, mournfully, like it’s coming to terms with something. It illuminates the empty bench.]

FRIEND. I miss him so much. But he’s been dead for years, ever since Wilbur’s dad threw Milo against the wall and- [he sobs.] And killed him.

[Absolute silence, so loud it is almost painful. NIKI’s mouth has fallen open, and the expression on her face is one of inexplicable agony. Her eyes are bright with tears and sorrow.]

PHIL [gently]. I’m so sorry, Friend.

FRIEND. It hurts.

[Finally, he looks up. His face is a mess of sadness and pain. His hands are clutching at his chest, right above where his heart is.]

FRIEND [brokenly]. It hurts, right here. [his face crumples.] It hurts.

[PHIL, TECHNO and TOMMY rush forwards in unison, descending upon FRIEND and pulling him into a group hug. They whisper things that are inaudible from a distance, wiping the tears from his face and smoothing his tangled hair. NIKI watches, her hand now clasped tightly over her mouth as she cries silently.]

PHIL. Let’s go home, Friend.

FRIEND [rising from the ground]. Okay.

[Exit all but NIKI and TECHNO.]

NIKI [turning to him]. Techno…

TECHNO. Not now. Later. [he gives her a comforting pat on the shoulder.] Let’s get back to campus first.

[NIKI pauses, studying the stoic composure in his demeanour. Then she hastily dries her eyes and breathes in shakily, gathering herself.]

NIKI. You’re right. The show must go on.

[Exeunt.]

Chapter Text

He’d been led astray by his own grief.

When his wife drowned in the ocean after having an asthma attack whilst swimming with their six-year-old son, it felt like he’d lost everything he had.

It didn’t matter that he still had his son, his job, and a life in front of him. Every piece of furniture reminded him of her smile, her laugh, and her voice. The curtains she’d picked out, the wallpaper she insisted on being a lighter shade of grey than he’d previously wanted, the picture frames on the walls she’d personally fixed - everything screamed her, her, her. He drowned in the scent of her, walking around the now-emptier house with a dumbstruck pain that not even he could comprehend.

Of course, there was also one more thing that reminded him of her, and that was his son. His son, his cursed son, who had watched her die without doing jack shit. He was doe-eyed, with brown hair and soft lips, a spitting image of her.

(People always said he looked most like his mother.)

Why hadn’t he died instead of her? Why was fate so cruel that it had chosen the love of his life to snatch away, rather than the cursed spawn? Why couldn’t he have died in her stead? And why was it that when she was gone, he was still smugly, mockingly here?

(Never mind that she would’ve given her life for him in a heartbeat - no, it was all the little devil’s fault, and dear fucking god, he hated him for it.)

He turned to alcoholism. He quickly discovered that when he was drunk out of his mind, he could sometimes hear the sweet chorus of her voice singing to him from the corner of the room, just out of reach. It was intoxicating. On lucky nights, he would catch a glimpse of her loitering near the shadows, and by the time he rushed to take a second look, she would be gone. It didn’t matter. He drank some more. If he could see her again, liquor was the way to go.

His job performance declined rapidly. Angry with how he often showed up to work looking like he’d just rolled out of bed and smelling strongly of booze and cigars, his boss fired him. That didn’t concern him. He just drank more. Alcohol, bottle after bottle, down the hatch, not caring if it burned at the back of his throat; no- he was chasing her. It was a gateway to the realm she’d gone to.

But there was still an issue: the petulant little shit was still alive.

It didn’t matter how much he punched him or kicked him; his son was a stubborn motherfucker, and he just wouldn’t keel over and die. Each time he drank, a vile rage would fill him like lava rising in a volcano, and when he took it out on his son, the electricity crackled through him deliciously. His son’s suffering was a drug, and whenever he saw his face that looked so much like her, he was hit with a storm of unbearable fury that made him want to bash him until he was unmoving and unrecognisable.

They let him see her, after they’d found her body. She was pale, her once soft lips now cold and blue. The officials gave him their condolences. They said it was a freak accident, that she had been so far out that there was no way she could’ve clawed her way back to shore, that his son had been far too young to understand the circumstances, let alone perform any heroics. They said it was a miracle they even managed to save his son.

(Bullshit. All of it. The little fucker just didn’t try.)

He didn’t want to call him Wilbur. That was the loving nickname she’d given him, after the pig in Charlotte’s Web, for she had wished for him to grow up to be selfless and brave, just like Wilbur the pig. He remembered how happy she’d been when she was allowed to hold him for the first time, how she looked down at him and wept tears of joy as she cradled her newborn son. He remembered his own elation, too.

(It was laughable now. Now, he hated his son more than anything.)

Will often cowered whenever he heard his footsteps. He would back himself into a corner and cover his face, having learnt that his father would fly into an incensed rage if he saw the features that so greatly resembled his mother’s. He’d cry in fear, shoulders shaking, and beg his father to stop. He never stopped. He didn’t care what the useless piece of shit thought. Will had taken everything from him, and the demonic creature was only a little kid.

(It was then he decided that his son would never grow up.)

Day after day, he drank. He beat his son some more. The house quickly fell into disrepair, and the rooms that were once clean and orderly became filled with empty liquor bottles. They were awfully convenient whenever he needed a tool to hit Will with. He’d smash them over his son’s head and shower them both in shards of broken glass, and then he’d pick up another one and do it again. It didn’t matter how much Will screamed. In fact, the more he screamed, the more he’d want to continue. It was a stunning, enraging reminder that he still had breath in his lungs. And as far as he was concerned, screaming just meant that Will wasn’t dead yet.

He’d been drinking one day when he saw Will with a grey cat, looking the happiest he’d ever been. 

(His face, the face he’d stolen from his mother, the woman that he’d killed, was alight with joy.)

Something within him snapped. He strode over, snatched the cat from his son’s lap by the scruff and hurled the thing at the wall.

Will screamed. He always did. He screamed whenever he came into the vicinity, as though it were a precursory habit. But this time, his scream was shriller, somehow more desperate, an animalistic thing that had been ripped from the very dredges of his lungs by rapacious claws. He leapt at his father and wrapped himself around his leg, blubbering incoherently, begging and pleading. He kicked him off; Will threw himself at him again, ignoring the way his bones cracked audibly when he’d hit the tiled floor.

The cat was twitching where it had landed. Its legs were moving in a surreal, horrifying running motion as it laid on its side. The thing jerked, pawing at the air uncontrollably and foaming at the mouth.

Will screamed again. He picked it up again, half-walked, half-dragged himself to the stairs with his son still adamantly attached to his leg, and climbed them. Once he was at the top, he looked down at Will, who was gazing up at him with a contorted face and a frenzied desperation in his eyes he’d never seen before.

“Please, Dad,” his son wailed. “Please, he’s my friend, don’t hurt him, please, he’s done nothing wrong, hit me instead, hit me instead, please let him go, please, please, Dad, I’m sorry, I love you, I love you, I’m sorry I killed Mom, Dad, please-”

His mind was foggy with alcohol. He listened to his son babble for a minute more, feeling the liquor thud in his head, and when Will finally stopped, heaving for oxygen, he smirked wolfishly. Then he drew his arm back and flung the cat down the stairs with all his might.

“No!”

(Was it Will who’d shrieked, or the cat, somehow? It didn’t sound even remotely human.)

The endorphins rushed through his blood as he heard something snap far down below. The cat was no longer moving. It had died in a grotesque position, head bent at an awkward angle, its paws held still as though it was mid-step when it had been killed. Its eyes were wide open, glassy with death. He watched, vision slightly blurry as though he were looking through a screen, as his son tumbled down the stairs in his haste to reach the cat and fell to his knees beside it.

Will screamed again, his hands fluttering everywhere as if he didn’t know what to do with them. First they danced over the cat’s body, then they went to cup the cat’s face, and then they wrapped themselves around the cat’s flank as he lifted it up and hugged it to his chest, sobbing so loudly that the sound echoed through the house. He screamed, again. And again, and again, and again.

(All he could think about was how he was still alive to scream, and she wasn’t.)

He descended on his son again.

He didn’t remember that day, only the days after that. He noted a stark change in Will after the death of the cat: he no longer screamed or sobbed when he hit him. Neither did he hide his face, or make any attempts to flee. Now he just sat still and took it, his face expressionless, his eyes unfocused like he’d gone far, far away.

Will lived like a marionette from then on. He went to school obediently and came back home obediently. He never opened his mouth again. He seemed to exist in a dazed state of shock, where he barely blinked, barely moved, and didn’t retaliate when hurt. There were worlds behind those brown eyes that he would retreat into on a basis that was almost constant.

Not that any of this mattered to him. Now that Will had chosen to shut up, it made beating the hell out of him easier. Neighbours no longer knocked on the door to figure out what was causing the disturbance, and he no longer had to worry about fabricating excuses as to why his son was screaming like a banshee at an ungodly hour. The life had been sucked out of Will. And to him, that was a victory. He didn’t deserve to live. Not when she wasn’t here anymore.

What he didn’t account for was the fact that Will had made friends, and those friends were noticing things.

One day, the doorbell rang and a tall brunet with glasses appeared at his door with a polite smile.

“Hello,” he began, too courteous for his age. “Are you Wilbur’s dad?”

“Yes.”

“I’m here to visit Wilbur. I’m one of his friends from middle school. My name is Alex. Can I come in?”

Certainly not. The house was littered with beer bottles. “He’s not available at the moment.”

The boy cocked his head to one side, his confusion almost infuriating as if he knew exactly what he was doing. “That’s strange. Wilbur told me at school that he’d be free this entire afternoon.”

“Well, he’s not,” he’d nearly barked. “Goodbye.” He slammed the door in his face.

When he’d beat Will that night, he’d hissed at him to never, ever open his mouth in school again. “I’ll kill you if another one shows up at the house,” he snarled at his son, who simply observed his rage with a listless composure that was less of bravery and more of numbness.

“You’ve already killed me so many times over,” he replied, in a voice devoid of emotion. “What’s once more going to do?”

It was the first time he’d ever talked back. He rewarded Will with a nasty shove into the edge of the wardrobe, where his son hit the wood back-first and crumpled to the floor. Still, not a sound left him; not even a whimper. He grabbed him by the hair and pulled him back up, incensed by his lack of reaction, and slapped him hard across the face. Will’s eyes glazed over. His body went still. So he spent the next ten minutes slapping him repeatedly.

“Little devil,” he spat. “I should’ve thrown you down the stairs after that mangy cat of yours.”

“Throw me, then,” Will said suddenly. He had come alive again, and now his eyes were blazing with fury and his lips were curved into a cunning smirk. The challenge in his voice was loud and clear. “Throw me, fucking coward. Throw me like you threw away your life after your wife died. Throw me like you threw away your career in favour of getting high all the time. Throw me down the stairs, and watch what I’ll fucking do to you.”

It was something Will would never have said. Will didn’t possess enough of a backbone to answer back like that. It gave him the sense that it wasn’t Will speaking, but the sheer defiance in his words ignited the sea of gasoline in the pit of his stomach and overrode his momentary surprise. 

He leered into his son’s face, slapped him four more times, and then began to walk to the stairs, dragging Will with him.

“Watch what you’ll do to me?” he barked a crude laugh, his own voice ringing in his ears. “I’ll watch you twitch and convulse like that cat, fucking piece of shit.”

Will laughed along with him, a sharp, grating sound that reminded him of broken alcohol bottles and gravel. It was bitter like liquor and ashen like smoke.

And then hell broke loose. 

Will twisted in his grasp suddenly, grabbing his ring and little finger and forcing them backwards with a violent strength he’d never possessed. He shouted as pure pain blazed through him, falling to his knees. When he opened his eyes, he only glimpsed a blur of dark colour before Will’s knee slammed into his nose. He screamed and fell backwards, blood pouring down his chin from his broken nose, agony pulsating through his cheekbones from the impact. His son stood over him, his expression unreadable. Then he lifted his foot up and brought it down onto his abdomen.

He choked and gagged, his lungs contracting. Will repeated this motion several more times until he physically couldn’t breathe, at which point his son backed off and headed back upstairs, disappearing into one of the rooms. He fought the ache in his ribs and struggled to stand, grasping at anything to support his weight. Nausea hit him hard as he swayed precariously atop the stairs, breathing rapidly.

His blood ran cold as he heard glass shatter.

Will reappeared. He had a broken bottle in his hand, and on his face was the sharpest, wildest smile he had ever seen on a human being.

“I should’ve done this long ago,” his son crowed.

Faintly, his ears picked up on sirens. He didn’t think. He just turned and ran, stumbling down the steps and staggering towards the front door. The sirens were getting louder, but he didn’t care. It had previously been his nightmare, but now, it was his salvation: they could throw him in jail for all he cared. All he knew was that he would not allow himself to give his son the satisfaction of killing him.

He burst out through the door to see two police cars pulling up at the curb. He made his way towards them, cackling maniacally despite the blood in his mouth, almost delirious with alcohol and pain. It was like running into the arms of the Messiah, for he knew they would not allow Will to kill him now.

He heard footsteps behind him, rapid and quick. Will barged through the open door and lunged at him immediately, the broken bottle raised high above his head like a dagger, intent clear across his vicious features. He had never seen such fearless, bold anger in his son’s eyes before. But before the broken bottle could come down on him, someone caught Will’s arm.

“Wilbur, no!” someone shouted. It was familiar. He dimly attributed it to the tall brunet that had come to their house that afternoon.

He allowed himself to be shoved into the back seat of the first police car, a blissed smile dancing across his lips. The handcuffs were cold against his skin, and the policeman that had arrested him slammed the door, cutting him off from the outside world. He watched through the window as Will was pinned down by three police officers, fighting all the while.

(It didn’t matter that the jig was up. Nothing else mattered, for in his ears, growing louder and louder, all he could hear was her hypnotising voice, singing a beautiful tune that was calling him up to heaven.)

--------

The old woman had been nursing a hot cup of tea when the daily paper arrived at the door. She went to fetch it immediately, leaving her tea on the nearby table to cool, and browsed through it. When she came across a particular article, she stopped, her eyebrows furrowing in consternation. Then she called out to her husband.

“Dear!” she shouted. “They’ve given the verdict.”

An elderly man appeared at the doorway. “Really? What was it?”

“Only ten years!” she scoffed. “Can you believe it? The poor boy endured that monster’s abuse for so long… and he only got ten years for it.”

“Our justice system,” groused her husband, disgusted. “A complete and utter failure.”

She sighed and stared at the article sorrowfully. It was a small one, but it was undoubtedly the saddest piece of news that day despite its brevity. There was only a singular picture attached, of a middle-aged man sitting in court with his hands secured behind his back. He looked positively unrepentant.

“They tried to push the insanity defence, I heard,” said the old man. “The absolute cheek of some people.”

“The gall!” she agreed indignantly. “Being drunk doesn’t excuse violence against a defenceless child. Neither does losing your wife.”

Her husband sniffed. “I have no pity for him.”

“Neither do I.”

They fell silent for a minute, both contemplating different things. As age caught up with you, it taught you how to take things slowly. When the old woman had been in her youth, she’d chased after her dreams endlessly. But now, with most of her life already lived to the fullest, she preferred to spend her time sitting in her comfy armchair, reading the papers and knitting whilst enjoying the warm sunlight slanting in from the window.

“What of the boy?” her husband asked.

She glanced at the article again. “Apparently, a man is taking him in. There’s not much reported here, but he seems kind. I’m glad. The poor boy deserves such kindness in his life after everything he’s been through.”

“We’re too late, then,” he said, a hint of disappointment to his tone. She looked up at him to see a mixture of wistfulness and dejection on his face.

“If it happens, dear, then it happens,” she said, folding up the paper and placing it next to her tea. “I miss her too. She died so young, and we never managed to try again. But we’re old now, and we definitely don’t have much longer. Perhaps it’s a good thing that this boy found someone who can take care of him until he matures and heals.”

Her husband sighed. He shook his head, but the smile on his face was gentle. “I think so, too.”

She returned his smile with one of her own, gazing fondly at his features. Then she stood up and crossed the room to her husband, taking his wrinkled hand in hers.

“Our daughter didn’t get another chance,” she murmured softly. “But this boy will. And that’s more than enough for me.” She turned to look at him. “Wouldn’t you say?”

His eyes were bright with love as he looked back at her. “Of course.”

Some things weren’t meant to be. It was fine if they never had a child again. Another thing that age had taught her was to appreciate what she had, and if there was one thing she knew for sure was meant to be, it was that she would be spending the rest of her days with the man that she loved.

(And that was enough for them.)

Chapter Text

When Techno reached the car along with Niki, Phil had already settled Friend into the passenger seat, where he’d passed out.

“He had to be exhausted,” Phil murmured, rubbing his son’s shoulder in steady, soothing motions. “He walked so far with the headache and all.”

Tommy was in the backseat as Techno slid in. His face was tear-streaked, and Techno was certain this was the longest he’d ever gone without speaking.

“Tommy,” he said, nudging the boy.

His younger brother turned listlessly. He said nothing in response, just blinked at Techno expectantly, his throat bobbing.

“You alright?”

Tommy nodded shallowly. Techno wasn’t sure he believed him.

A shoulder pressed up against his, and the door slammed shut. Niki moved away immediately, shifting to the very edge of the seat so she was squeezed against the door. “Sorry,” she apologised.

“It’s okay,” Techno said. He beckoned her in. “Don’t squash yourself into the corner like that. Just sit comfortably. I’m not offended or anything, and the backseat wasn’t meant for three almost fully-grown people anyway.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Phil interjected from the front. “It’s a small car.”

Niki smiled. “I’m grateful enough that you guys took me along.”

“It was a huge risk doing so,” Techno admitted. “But trying to chase you off would’ve expended so much more time and energy. Plus, if you weren’t here…” he trailed off as the frightening conclusion fell upon him like the shadows cast by the moon upon the Earth.

Phil turned around in his seat. His eyes were filled with gratitude and relief. “If you weren’t here, we might’ve not found him so quickly,” he murmured. “Thank you, Niki.”

Niki shook her head. “I can’t take all of the credit,” she said. Techno caught the meaningful glance she directed towards him furtively at the end of her sentence.

“It was a team effort,” Techno surmised.

“Mhm,” hummed Niki.

They exchanged small smiles as Phil began to drive back to campus. There was a mutual understanding and contentment between them that sweetened the air like honey dissolving in water, a silent agreement like how two sunflowers knew to face each other when there was no sun available to look towards. Both of them were aware that if either of them had not been there, this good ending might not have happened. And they both took pride in the part that they played to contribute towards this favourable result.

Techno turned away for a moment to glance at Tommy. His younger brother was leaning against the window, eyes closed and face pale. Normally, Techno would be worried to see Tommy drained of his boundless energy like this. But somehow he knew instinctively that Tommy wasn’t asleep, and that his closed eyes were just a subtle sign that read ‘Do not disturb. Recharging.’, and that was fine with him. The night had been so long and draining that he didn’t blame Tommy at all. Techno was just built different.

Techno let himself relax into the seat, a dazed awe overtaking him as he stared at the roof of the car. Now that everything had been resolved, he couldn’t believe that the most of his worries just a few hours ago were directed towards the solo he had in Winter. Compared to the dizzying fear he experienced when Tommy had barged in and told him Wilbur had gone missing, the anxiety he’d had over screwing up the solo seemed so insignificant.

“So, um,” Niki said, breaking the silence. “I’m so sorry to ask, but-”

“It’s very complicated, Niki,” Phil replied, cutting her off, but not rudely. “You haven’t known him for a long time too, right?”

Niki nodded. “Techno, Tommy, Wilbur and I went to the same middle school. But I never really spoke to any of you guys; we just met in the halls once in a while. We really became acquainted when Techno and I were the only ones in our year to get into this high school.”

Techno grinned. “We’re just too smart for them.”

Niki giggled and elbowed him.

“Well,” Phil said, and sighed. He didn’t seem like he was cheered up by their banter. “If you only came to know Wilbur in high school, you really haven’t seen him at his worst.”

“I know,” said Niki quietly. “I could tell. He was pleasant, but there was something awfully troubled about him. When I played the guitar for the music elective in my first year, he was the one assigned to guide me. That’s how I kind of got closer to him.”

“Why did you drop the music elective, Niki?” asked Tommy, in a voice that was hoarse from disuse.

Niki shrugged. “Too many subjects. I wanted to focus more on my grades. But I can still play the guitar, kind of.”

“He taught you well?” Phil asked.

“Definitely.”

“That’s my boy,” the man exhaled.

Techno smiled inwardly. Of course, he knew how kind Wilbur was. It had taken years to fully bring out his true personality again after the horrific abuse he endured at the hands of his father, and the fact that even someone outside their circle like Niki could tell what a good person he was made Techno extremely happy.

“How much of his past do you know about, Niki?” Phil asked.

“Not much,” Niki replied. “I know he didn’t have any good people in his life besides his mother. I knew he ran away from home sometimes, to that hill.”

Techno sighed heavily. “There’s so much else,” he said sadly. “Too much. We could explain the rough gist of it, but the exact details are for Wilbur to tell.”

“I understand,” Niki murmured. “I mean, you guys don’t even have to tell me anything about Will. I can always-”

“Wait.” Tommy sat up, looking puzzled. “You call him Will?”

Niki gave him a confused look. “Yes?” She took in Tommy’s stunned face. “Is that… a bad thing?”

“No,” Techno said. “It’s a very good thing. His father used to call him that, so he doesn’t like to be referred to by that name anymore. But if he lets you call him Will, that means he trusts you a lot.”

Something beautiful bloomed slowly across Niki’s face. It was joy, Techno recognised. Joy that Wilbur had felt safe enough to let down his guard around her.

“I would appreciate it if you could tell me at least the big picture,” she said softly. “But if anything goes against Will’s boundaries…”

“Wilbur said he trusts our judgement,” Phil said. “At least, for the more general explanation. But we don’t want to encroach on his trust, so we really only tell people we know are safe, and even then, we don’t tell them the exact details of what happened.” 

“Then I’d appreciate it if you could tell me.”

Phil eased the car into a gentle turn. “Wilbur’s father was violently abusive when drunk. You know now that he killed the cat Wilbur befriended during that dark period. That would probably be the thing that broke him after all those years of agony: watching his only friend die horribly in front of him.”

Niki swallowed. “I can only imagine,” she said brokenly.

“We can only imagine, too,” Techno said. “Even though we were there at his worst, we weren’t the ones experiencing the abuse. We’re only bystanders, at the end of the day. Wilbur’s the one who braved the pain and came out stronger.”

“I know.”

“His history of abuse is quite… long,” Phil said uncertainly. “I mean, besides the abuse, he’s also dealt with death and police interference, and he’s going to therapy.”

“He mentioned that he didn’t have any good people in his life besides his mom,” Niki said. “Well, I mean, I guess until he met you guys. What happened to her when his father was abusive? Did he beat her-” she gave a horrified gasp. “Did he beat her too?”

“No, um, Niki,” Techno began. He paused, not sure how to tactfully skirt around the whole incident of Wilbur’s mother drowning.

Thankfully, Phil was there. “Wilbur’s mother passed away when he was very young,” he said simply. “He witnessed it happen. The loss of his mother was the reason why his father turned to alcohol.”

Niki now looked like she wished she hadn’t asked at all.

“I… don’t think I should ask anymore,” she said, voice wobbling.

“Fair,” conceded Phil. “We’re almost back at campus anyway.”

They spent the next three minutes in solemn, morose silence as Phil pulled up at the curb outside the gates. “Have a good rest,” he called, as Tommy and Niki exited the backseat.

Niki waved back and bowed. “Thanks so much for coming here, Phil.”

Techno pulled out his phone and winced at the time: it was almost midnight. He combed a hand through his hair and closed the car door before going to the front to fetch Friend, who was still unconscious.

“Do I wake him up?” he asked Phil.

The blond-haired man nodded. “I don’t see how you’re going to transport him back to the dorms otherwise.”

Techno breathed in deeply, steeling himself, and gave Friend’s shoulder a tap. “Friend,” he murmured, shaking his pseudo-brother’s body gently. “Wake up.”

Friend gave a little sleepy yawn, blinking drowsily. “Techno?”

“We’re home,” said Techno, giving him a small grin.

This had Friend perking up immediately. He seemed to come alive, leaping out the car and closing the door behind him. “Come on, Phil, hurry,” he called excitedly. “Techno says we’re home!”

Phil smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I won’t be following you guys, Friend.”

Friend paused. “But then- where are you going?”

“Back to his house,” Techno replied. “He doesn’t study here, remember? He graduated years ago.”

“Oh,” said Friend. He deflated, hands falling to his sides dejectedly. “I’ll miss you, Phil.”

“I’ll miss you too, Friend.”

“I don’t even know when I’ll see you again.”

“I know,” Phil said softly. “Take care of yourself while I’m gone, okay?”

Friend nodded sadly. Then he turned away and took Techno’s hand. “Let’s go home, Techno,” he said. The look on his face told Techno that he was struggling not to cry.

Techno waved to Phil one last time and led Friend back towards the main gates. Friend was always innocently emotional, and his feelings were angelic but strong. His emotions were unfiltered and raw, and despite the beauty in his purity, it also meant that he did not hide behind a mask like Wilbur often did. When he was overjoyed, he was bright with euphoria. But when he was sad, he was devastated and broken.

It took a lot to make Friend sad, considering he was meant to keep Wilbur and the others happy. Techno’s heart ached at the glassiness in Friend’s eyes, knowing that the constant stress must’ve broken him so badly for him to run away tonight.

“Are you tired, Friend?” he inquired, as Tommy tapped his student pass and opened the gate for them.

Friend nodded, his curls falling into his face. He closed his eyes, and droplets fell.

Oh. Oh no. Techno wrapped his arms around the taller boy and held him tightly. “The day must’ve been a lot for you, huh?” he murmured, trying his best to keep his voice low.

Friend shook his head, sniffling. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I don’t know why I ran away. I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s okay,” Techno coaxed. “We all have bad days sometimes.”

The boy shrugged. “I suppose. But you had to chase after me.”

“We signed up for this,” he reminded Friend. “We know it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault you’re here, that the others are here, that you have to take care of everyone. So we’re here to help.”

“I know,” Friend said. “Thank you.”

Techno ruffled his hair fondly. “Of course.”

“I’ve had a question all evening,” Friend said suddenly. “Can I ask it now?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Techno said, surprised.

Friend pointed straight ahead at Niki’s small figure. “Who’s that?”

“Oh.” Techno laughed. He’d forgotten Friend didn’t know who Niki was. “She’s one of Wilbur’s closest friends. Wilbur trusts her a lot.”

Friend seemed satisfied with that answer. “But does she know about us?”

“No,” Techno said. “Well- not explicitly. But she was the reason why we came to that bench to find you. I think maybe Wilbur mentioned it to her before.”

“I see.” Friend’s eyebrows furrowed, as if he were trying to digest this new information. “Will you tell her I said thank you?”

Techno’s heart went soft. It would always go soft for Friend, just as it howled with sadness for Ghost. “Of course, Friend.”

Friend beamed. He gave a little skip on the path, giggling, seemingly back to his childish, jubilant self. 

“We’re home,” he called, to the empty air, to no one in particular. And that was what was lovely about him; he talked to birds, trees, skies - he talked as if they had ears to listen. Maybe they did grow ears just to listen to Friend’s joyful rambling, even if they were fundamentally inanimate. Who knew? Techno would definitely grow ears to listen to Friend if he himself were a tree.

In front of them, Niki turned around at the sound of Friend’s voice. But what captured Techno was the expression on Niki’s face, because she no longer seemed judgemental or confused despite this being awfully out of character for the Wilbur she knew. She merely wore a contented, warm smile, her eyes filled with genuine amusement. She seemed at peace even with what she didn’t know, simply accepting Friend’s happiness as something good.

“We’ll bring him back to our dorm tonight, Niki,” Techno told her. “I don’t think he’d want to be alone after all that.”

Niki nodded. “I’m two floors above you if you need a hand. Just feel free to call me.”

They bade goodbyes as the lift came to a gentle halt at Techno’s and Tommy’s floor. Friend offered her a shy smile and a small wave before scurrying out of the lift quickly. Techno found him around the corner, his cherry-red face buried in his hands.

“What-” Techno laughed. “Friend, why-”

“I don’t know!” Friend squealed. He giggled too. “I don’t know her, I don’t know who she is, but I thought- because you said Wilbur likes her, I don’t know, I thought it would be nice if I kind of showed I was grateful that she came to find me.”

Tommy grinned. It was the first sign of amusement Techno had seen on his face in hours. “He said she’s Wilbur’s friend, not that Wilbur likes her.”

Friend’s face reddened even further. “Oh.” His shoulders folded inwards onto himself. “Oh, no.”

Techno just shook his head as he unlocked the door and ushered a mortified Friend inside. “Bruuuh,” he muttered to himself.

“Bruuuuuuuhh,” Tommy echoed as he peeled off his shoes. “Bruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh.”

“Oi, that’s my line,” Techno argued jokingly. “Stop stealing my jokes and make your own, you clown.”

“I’ve already got my own jokes! One for each of my subject grades.”

“Oof. You’re right. Too real.”

Tommy threw a sock at him, but he was laughing. His cheeks were red and his blond hair was unkempt. “You’re supposed to disagree with me like a good big brother, you prick!”

“Techno?” Friend called from down the hallway. “How do you turn on the hot water?”

“Hey!” Tommy shouted. “How dare you take advantage of our fight to sneak off and shower first!” He charged towards the bathroom, feet slapping against the floor, leaving Techno to recover the thrown sock from where it had landed on the couch. “Shower’s mine!”

Friend started laughing, presumably being ruthlessly tickled by Tommy. Techno sighed, but his lips were stretched into a smile that he couldn’t control. God, he hated it here.

--------

OHANA

     > #general

Ph1LzA: @WilburSoot hey when you see this Wil

Just wanted to let you know that Niki came with us to find you when you went missing last night

We told her the brief gist of your past, but no explicit details.

Friend was there, by the way.

Technoblade: she knows your dad was abusive and an alcoholic, and that your mother passed away

we didn’t tell her about the drowning

Ph1LzA: ^^^

Maybe you want to talk it out with her?
She was being polite, but I can tell she has a lot of questions. You seem to trust her, so…

It’s your story, Wilbur, not ours.

Technoblade: definitely

only tell her if you feel comfortable

you know she won’t hold it against you if you don’t tell

Ph1LzA: Yep

She did meet Friend, but she didn’t question it

I doubt she would pry if you just kept quiet

But I mean, you know, tell her if you can. It’s a courtesy. She was a massive help in finding you.

Technoblade: again, only if you’re comfortable

tommy and i are off to school

phil’s already written in to your form teacher to tell her you won’t be in class today

rest well :))

BIG TOMMY: REST WELL WILBUR!!!!!!!!

LOV YOU <3

--------

The room was swollen with the sticky air of late afternoon, and Wilbur groaned, groggily untangling himself from the blanket wrapped around his leg. He could feel the heat of the sunlight on his face, and he was convinced that if he even cracked his eyelids open, he’d be blinded for the next five minutes.

No thank you. He burrowed back into the sheets and sighed, feeling the drowsiness lap at him in slow, languid waves. This type of hot, lazy weather was perfect for taking a long nap.

What he didn’t account for was the heat penetrating his cocoon, turning the delicious warmth into a prickly heat that was unbearable and impossible to fall asleep in. After tossing and turning for close to twenty minutes, Wilbur shot upright in annoyance, frustrated by the humidity.

He blinked at the sight of Techno’s room. Looking down, he realised that the sheets weren’t his grey ones, but a dark navy blue. Techno’s sheets. And he was in Techno’s bed.

Wilbur furrowed his eyebrows in consternation, staring aimlessly out the window at the bright afternoon sky. The events of the previous night were a blur in his head, and he could practically hear television static when he tried to remember them. There was nothing that jogged his memory; not even the softness of Techno’s sheets and the calm quiet of the room.

He slowly stood from the bed, folding up the blanket neatly and tidying up Techno’s bed before walking outside. There was another blanket draped over the couch, presumably where Techno had slept since he’d given up his bed for Wilbur.

Wilbur sighed, guilt eating away at him. He shouldn’t have.

It wasn’t like this was his first time coming to in Techno’s and Tommy’s shared dorm, but again, with his disorder, coming to was an experience Wilbur suspected he’d never really get used to. It was so severely disorienting each time it happened, and it left him grasping at empty air, trying to piece his life back together.

“Be a detective,” his therapist had told him. “If you can’t remember what happened, seek out clues and indications that can tell you what was going on.”

Easier said than done. Wilbur sank down onto one of the chairs at the dining table, rubbing at his temples. God, it was this part he hated the most. It was the fear of finding out what the hell he’d done while not being conscious.

Abruptly, from the corner of the room, something buzzed. Wilbur glanced up, puzzled, to see his phone placed face-down upon the shoe cabinet. Someone must’ve taken it from his pocket and left it there, probably to make sure he didn’t crush it in his sleep. Wilbur rose hesitantly, eyeing it with a mixture of reluctance and eagerness. He wasn’t exactly sure if he wanted to find out what he’d done. Maybe he didn’t have to piece together his life every time it fell apart. Maybe it fell apart for a reason, and he had no right to try and fix it.

But the thought of the stupid amount of money Phil was paying for his therapy made Wilbur cross the room to the cabinet and grab his phone. He didn’t want his therapist’s advice to go to waste. He allowed himself only a second more to procrastinate before he turned on the screen and opened Discord, starting to scroll through their family server.

He expected them to tell him someone else was there. He expected them to tell him he’d done something stupid. What he didn’t expect was for them to tell him that Niki had witnessed everything.

Wilbur inhaled sharply, swaying on the spot as a hot flush reddened his cheeks. He clutched at the cabinet, suddenly nauseous. Niki? Kind, sweet Niki, who laughed at his jokes and called him Will with that soft voice of hers and sang like a beautiful songbird in the early mornings? Niki, his junior, who was the first person apart from Phil, Techno and Tommy he trusted enough to let her call him by his birth name?

Niki, who now knew how mentally fucked-up he was?

Intrusive thoughts flooded his mind. Wilbur pictured her pretty, warm eyes going cold and sharp, hardening like colourless diamonds. He watched as her face, once benign and gorgeous, filled with cruel disgust. He imagined her calling him names not unlike those he’d heard from his father: useless. Coward. Burden.

He retched, feeling his stomach twist, and sank to the floor. She’d met Friend. Friend was childish and innocent and carefree. What kinds of trouble had he caused her? 

The logical portion of him was up in arms in response to this irrational fear, screaming at him that if Niki were that bad of a person, there was no way Wilbur would’ve ever let her call him Will. It argued that the reason why Wilbur felt so comfortable with her was because he’d seen personally how good of a person she was and how well she’d treated him despite everything- and that if anyone called him names, the very last person it would be aside from his pseudo-family was Niki. She would forgive him for everything and anything, it yelled. She was too good for the world.

And it was right. Wilbur knew it was right. He knew what he had to do. But the panic was still there, and as he gasped for air, he barely managed to get ahold of his phone and unlock it. His fingers shook when he typed out the hasty message, but eventually he succeeded in doing so. 

He pressed send before putting his phone back face-down where he’d found it and pulling himself off the floor, walking on autopilot back to Techno’s room. If Wilbur had a life motto, it would be that sleeping meant no thinking. And right now, not thinking sounded too good to pass up.

--------

@nihachu

WilburSoot: hey niki

we need to talk

Chapter Text

@nihachu

nihachu: sure will!

when? :))

WilburSoot: uhm

sorry, do i have your timetable?

when are you free?

nihachu: i’m good tomorrow evening!

would you want to have dinner or something together?

WilburSoot: that sounds great, niki

nihachu: there’s this really great japanese restaurant near campus

i don’t know if you’ve ever been there?

WilburSoot: not sure

i don’t think so?

it’s not the sushi place in the shopping mall right?

nihachu: nope!

WilburSoot: okay then i’ve never been HAHA

sure, just give me directions or something

nihachu: i’ll send you the address!

WilburSoot: thank you <3

see you tomorrow evening then!

nihachu: see you will!

--------

They’d arranged to meet at six in the evening.

He was shaking with nerves. Wilbur was so jittery that he could barely walk. Somehow he’d taken this into account and given himself an hour to stagger down to the restaurant that normally would’ve only been twenty minutes away. But his calculations had failed, because he'd overestimated how much time he would need, and now Wilbur found himself there half an hour early.

There were essentially two dinner crowds within this locale - one at six and one at seven. Students from their high school loved to frequent the nearby restaurants and cafes after classes, and they’d quickly figured out that most of the working population did the same at seven. So they went there an hour earlier if they could, just to skip the queues. 

Sometimes Wilbur wondered how the restaurants managed to keep their sanity through both the crowds. Techno had bemoaned to him and Tommy about the pain of being a waiter during rush hours before, as the restaurant he worked at was fairly popular and enjoyed plenty of customer attention. Wilbur had heard horror stories of snaking queues and impatient patrons, all of which were vividly enhanced by Techno’s ridiculous vocabulary. Maybe they were hyperbolic accounts, dramatically exaggerated for storytelling purposes. But some of the things Techno had said… Wilbur did not want to stick around to find out if they’d been exaggerated or not.

Wilbur spent the half-hour standing right outside the restaurant awkwardly, trying to calm his frayed nerves. He tried everything at his disposal: his therapist’s breathing techniques, positive self-talk, optimistic thinking - yet when he clenched his hands into fists, his fingers felt numb from a phantom cold that seemed to have originated from deep within him. It wasn’t even the weather that was cold; it was just how goddamned nervous he was.

He scoffed, frustrated at himself. He might as well be going for a job interview at this rate. Wilbur struggled to remind himself that this was Niki he was meeting up with. Niki, who had shown him nothing but compassion and kindness, her sweet eyes like toffee and her shy voice like soft snow. He once remembered thinking to himself that the day Niki said anything spiteful was the day the world ended. It was just impossible for her to be mean.

But a tiny voice at the back of his head persisted: what if the world ended today?

Just because he’d never seen Niki be spiteful didn’t mean that she would never be. And what if tonight’s conversation was the one that finally broke her? What if he had to bear the brunt of Niki’s unseen wrath? Wilbur wouldn’t blame her. He hated himself too, with the heat of a thousand suns. But coming from Niki, those words would be devastating. She meant so much to Wilbur. And it was always the words that came from those that mattered that hurt the most.

Wilbur wasn’t sure if he could bear them. As the minutes ticked by with excruciating slowness, he felt more and more like bursting into tears.

“Will?”

Wilbur jumped, yanking his hands away from his face. In front of him was Niki, dressed in a soft white sweater and black pants. Despite his nerves, Wilbur’s heart softened. She looked beautiful.

“Hey, Niki,” Wilbur stuttered. He gave her a wobbly smile, then cringed inwardly at how bad he was with social interaction.

If Niki noticed his awkwardness, she sure did a good job at not showing it. Instead she gave him a heart-melting smile, her cheeks dusted a faint fairy pink. “Hey, Will.”

They stood facing each other rather uncomfortably for another ten seconds or so before Wilbur licked his lips and decided to make a move. “Do you want to go in?” he asked, gesturing to the restaurant behind them. “It’s cold out here.”

Niki tilted her head slightly. “Sure.”

“Okay,” Wilbur breathed, hopelessly enraptured by her angelic demeanour. “Okay.”

He led the way into the restaurant, where a waiter quickly noticed them and assigned them a table. Wilbur slid into the plush seat, dazed. He muttered a thank you as the waiter handed them the menu, but barely caught anything he said after - something about a receipt, a counter, a bill… almost as if she could tell that he was wracked with nerves, Niki shot him a gentle smile that made his heart flutter.

“He said to take the receipt to the counter when we pay the bill later,” she supplied helpfully.

Wilbur nodded dumbly, feeling his stomach quiver. Suddenly, as he looked down at the menu filled with neatly-wrapped sushi and brightly-coloured foods, nothing seemed appetising anymore.

He eyed Niki relentlessly throughout the entire ordering process, every muscle in his body tensed and ready to propel him out of his seat and away from the restaurant the moment things turned sour. But the more he studied her, the sillier he felt, because Niki seemed to act normal, if anything. She smiled at the waiter who brought their food, thanking him gratefully; meanwhile Wilbur must’ve looked like a psychopath as he burned holes into her with his gaze.

Slowly, he felt his hackles begin to lower. She was acting normal. Nothing bad could possibly happen.

Just as Wilbur had coaxed himself into letting down his guard just the slightest, their eyes suddenly met through the fine steam rising from both their bowls of hot noodles. Niki’s eyes held a meaningfulness that had Wilbur feeling queasy all over again.

Fear wrapped an iron fist around his heart and squeezed. Wilbur clutched at the table until his knuckles were white, swaying slightly against the nausea sitting beneath his diaphragm. He tried to stay as calm as he could, but the hamster ball was already tumbling down the metaphorical hill. The thick noodles in front of him phased in and out of clarity as he felt his hands go cold.

What had he called Niki to dinner for? What did he want to talk about? Wilbur struggled against the mindless fog that seemed to have swamped his brain, clawing through the sticky, stifling blanket to gather the pieces of memory that he’d somehow left behind. A few keywords resurfaced: Friend. Abusive dad. ‘You went missing last night.’

‘Tell her if you can.’

“Will-”

“I’m really sorry about two days ago, Niki,” Wilbur interrupted. He bit his lip hard and tried to force away the dreadful sense of terror threatening to gradually swallow him whole. “I- um-”

“Will.”

Oh no. Oh, no. Her voice was firm. That could only mean one thing: she hated him. She hated him and thought he was stupid and never wanted to see him again-

“Will, please.” 

A hand took his, and his chopsticks clattered to the table as Wilbur trembled violently at the contact. He dared a surreptitious glance up and saw not cruel animosity in Niki’s eyes like he’d predicted, but a sorrowful curiosity that would’ve had Wilbur weeping if not for the fact that they were in public. What it did induce in place of tears, however, was a flush of headiness when his constricted throat finally opened up and his next breath rattled out of him in the form of a wheeze.

Niki’s eyes were filled with worry. “Breathe, Will,” she murmured.

And so Wilbur did, because the Niki in his head was different from the Niki sitting across the table from him. The Niki in his head was screaming, calling him awful names, her face red with anger. The Niki in front of him was genuinely worried, her lips turned downwards into a frown that displayed her concern. She wasn’t screaming. She wasn’t even speaking - just waiting patiently for him to gather himself.

The Niki in his head did not care about him. But the real Niki - the Niki in front of him - was infinitely caring. Wilbur felt safe with her. And so Wilbur breathed.

It took another five minutes for him to stabilise, and by then, their noodles were no longer piping hot.

“I’m sorry,” croaked Wilbur, staring sadly at her bowl. “I made your noodles go cold.”

Niki laughed lightly. “You didn’t do that. The atmosphere did.”

Despite himself, Wilbur couldn’t help chuckling along with her. “You know what I mean.”

Her eyes twinkled as she ducked her head to eat the first bite of their dinner that evening. Wilbur followed suit, picking up his chopsticks from the table and taking a tentative taste of his noodles. Even though the broth wasn’t hot anymore, it was still warm enough for Wilbur’s belly, and the thickness of the noodles made for a wonderfully chewy texture. Wilbur savoured his mouthful, swallowing in awe. Niki wasn’t lying when she said this place was good.

“Do you like them?” Niki asked.

Wilbur nodded emphatically. “Yes,” he said through a mouthful of noodles. “This is so good.”

Niki watched him eat with a gaze as soft as feathers. “I know you can’t taste very well, so I wanted to pick something tactile.” Her pink lips melted into a small grin. “I’m glad you like it, Will.”

Wilbur blinked, at a loss for words. “Niki,” he began, “you really didn’t have to.”

The petite girl before him shrugged. “You’re right. I didn’t have to.” Her eyes went warm all of a sudden. “But I wanted to. Because it’s for you.”

He had to shovel more noodles into his mouth to keep his yell of shyness from escaping and frightening all the other patrons from the restaurant. Wilbur hid his face again, feeling his ears burn. Good heavens above, he didn’t deserve her. Which saint reincarnated was she? For him? For him? Jesus Christ and Heaven almighty, Wilbur wanted to explode from the rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm every cell in his body.

“Niki…” he groaned, drawing out the last syllable. Then he breathed in deep, still not daring to make eye contact with her. “Thank you.”

She said nothing, but the little beam she wore on her face told Wilbur enough.

Somehow, that whole exchange had evicted all of Wilbur’s nerves, leaving him only with a slight tremor in his hands. And with the blessed warmth of the soup sitting firm in his stomach, Wilbur had never felt more empowered than right now.

“Niki,” he started, riding the wave of bravado, “about that night-”

“You really don’t have to,” Niki cut in, and the sadness in her voice shocked Wilbur for a moment. “You really don’t have to, Will.”

It was only then that it occurred to Wilbur that Niki was aware of the main gist of his past. She knew all about his father, about what he’d experienced, the abuse he’d suffered through… Niki knew that his father was a violent alcoholic, and that he’d been beaten. What she didn’t know, and what she no doubt was curious about, was Friend. That, and his mother.

The thought of his mother made Wilbur dizzy and lightheaded. But he fought against the sensation, trying valiantly to stay in the moment.

He owed Niki this.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Niki said firmly, the firmest he’d ever heard her gentle voice sound. “You don’t.”

He did. He really did. After everything she’d done for him, it would be criminal to leave her in the dark. He’d entrusted her before, with stories of pain and exhaustion. He’d entrusted her with the most fragile of his emotions. But somehow, it felt so much more dangerous to entrust her with this.

“Niki,” he breathed, trying to gather enough oxygen as his heart thudded rapidly in his chest. It seemed like it was protesting his desire to confide in her, trying to leap and gallop frantically away from the conflict.

“Niki,” he breathed again. The world was going by in slow motion.

Her lips were moving. What did that mean? She was speaking. She was saying something, but Wilbur couldn’t hear her. It felt like he’d dunked his head in water. Ice cold water, numbing his hands and feet and sapping the life from his body.

He heard a familiar tinkle of laughter. He snapped to look over his shoulder, unaware that he was panting. He was met with the soft leather of the seat behind him. She wasn’t there. He turned back around slowly, unclenching and clenching his fists. The wooden table swam in his vision. He felt, for a ghostly moment, the weak lapping of waves against his arm on the shore. He looked down, goosebumps rising all over his skin, but there was no water. He wasn’t on the beach; he was in a restaurant, with Niki. There was no sand on his body. There was no salt on his tongue. There was no water in his lungs. The sounds around him had dimmed, and the chattering of patrons was slowly dissolving into panicked cries, people gathering around him, the choking sensation in his throat resembling that of the tightness he’d felt as he puked up seawater.

(There was no sand on his body.)

The girl opposite him was leaning closer now, her eyes wide with panic. Her lips were moving, faster than he could read them, as he sat there in silence, desperately trying to comprehend what was happening around him.

(There was no salt on his tongue.)

He licked his lips. They were dry. Too dry. It reminded him of the parched stickiness he’d tasted after they’d made him throw up the seawater he’d ingested, the way the salt dried up his lips and left them cracking and painful. But back then, his bleeding lips had been the least of his pains.

(There was no water in his lungs.)

He couldn’t even see her face now. It was an indiscriminate blob of peach. He squinted, but it made no difference. He blinked, hoping to clear the fog, and something warm slid down his cheek. He flinched as she leaned closer again, curling into himself. 

He didn’t know who she was. He didn’t know where he was. The world was a mess of noise and colour, but he only knew quiet and darkness, the world that only existed far below the ocean surface. The world he knew was the world of those who were drowning.

Biting his lip brought him temporary relief. He squeezed himself into the corner made by the seat and the wall and covered his face with his hands, willing himself to stop crying. But in reality, he wanted to wail in despair, louder and higher like a siren, because despite all the attention they were giving him, none of them were listening to him. He didn’t care about the water in his stomach. He didn’t care about the dehydration and exhaustion. He wanted them to find her, to use all the energy they were using to save him to search for her beneath the waves. He wanted them to go look for her instead of wasting time on him, because he was on land and she was in the water and she was drowning and why weren’t they going to look for her?

He slammed his hands over his ears and wept, but they didn’t block out the voices. They whispered and hissed, growing louder, a chilling order that consisted of only two words:

Find her, find her, find her.

“-ost? Ghost?”

He stilled, freezing in place. The orders hushed. The voice that had called his name was crackly, like it was being projected through something, but it was his name and only a few people knew his name.

“Ghost?”

He whined softly, gravitating towards the noise. His hands wrapped around a rectangular metallic device. He cradled it to his ear, hanging onto every sound that came from it like a lifeline.

“Hey, Ghost. Remember me? I’m Techno.” It was warm. The voice was so warm. “We’re going to come pick you up, alright, buddy? Tommy and I.”

He nodded listlessly, staring into the distance. The device crackled again against his ear. “Just sit tight. I love you, Ghost. You’re going to be okay.”

Find her, find her, find her.

He yelped at how close the voices sounded, startling against the seat and rapping his head smartly against the wall. The pain that ricocheted through his skull as a result had his tears redoubling in effort, sending them spilling over again. He quivered in fear, dropping the device in favour of wrapping his arms around himself.

No one was coming for him. Not Techno, not Tommy. He was all alone, in the sea, drifting in the dark and powerless to the currents pulling him along. He was reaching for something, but the waters tugged it out of reach. He was looking for her, but he couldn’t see, and the salt was in his eyes and on his tongue and it hurt, everything hurt, his lungs were short of oxygen and his body was numb and the world was black and cold and he’d lost her forever because he wasn’t fast enough wasn’t strong enough wasn’t brave enough because he was-

Footsteps. Dimly. Arms wrapping around him, voices everywhere, panicking, shouting. He thrashed against them. He was too weak. They hoisted him up. There were multiple pairs of them. Too many hands. Too many hands not searching for her. Too many people. He fought until his limbs gave out and his vision went dark, and there was nothing left in him to give. He was so tired. He let them carry him away. But all he could think about was that the voices were hissing something else now, two very different words from the ones before.

Too late, too late, too late.

--------

Niki had never been so thoroughly frightened before. Even now, as she sat silently on the floor beside Techno’s couch, her hands were quaking in her lap. She breathed in deep, trying to compose herself, but her hands just wouldn’t stop shaking.

The events that took place an hour ago were playing on repeat in her head. How Wilbur quickly had gone from shy to pale to unresponsive to a breakdown scared her. Niki couldn’t chase the image of Wilbur’s blank stare and bleeding lips from her mind, how broken he’d looked as he’d held her phone shakily to his ear and listened with such attention. And then there were the sounds of his crying, so loud that everyone else in the restaurant turned to stare. She could replay them mentally, remembering exactly how they rang in her ears, the crescendos of his raw distress. It broke her heart all over again each time she thought about it.

Techno was next to her, sat cross-legged on the floor. He had a hand on Wilbur’s leg, his stare fixated on nothing in particular. Tommy had already fallen asleep earlier, exhausted from choir and the long day of school, plus having to carry Wilbur back from the restaurant to the dorms. 

“Did he tell you?” asked Techno.

Niki turned to him. “About what?”

Techno held her gaze for a moment more before he sighed and looked away. “I suppose not.” He paused, fidgeting, as though he was debating with himself.

“Are you okay?”

The brunet shrugged and let out a dry, humourless laugh. “God knows if I am.” He inhaled deeply and pulled his legs up so his knees were against his chest.

Niki swallowed. She, too, wished that there was a clear-cut answer.

Outside, the sky had gone dark, and the shadows of night had fallen over the city. The moon was barely observable. As the light from it slanted in through the window, it cast a forlorn shade over them, like an intangible arm falling around their shoulders in silent comfort.

What comfort was there to be derived from anything she’d witnessed? Niki couldn’t make anything positive of it. She’d been prepared for tears, for sadness. She hadn’t been prepared for this.

“Wilbur has dissociative identity disorder.”

In the silence, the words rang loud and clear. Niki blinked, her grief-stricken mind racing to brush itself off and compute what she’d heard. Then came the realisation, then the shock, like dominoes, one effect causing another. She whipped back around to face Techno, feeling the blood drain from her face.

But Techno wasn’t looking at her. He was staring at the floor, seemingly determined to not meet her eyes.

“He was going to tell you,” the boy said. “I guess he didn’t get to. So I thought I’d at least let you know.”

She gaped at him wordlessly. “I-”

It made sense now. His slightly differing temperaments, all the times he seemed a little off without Niki being able to put her finger on it, the amnesia he’d told her about before, the way Phil, Tommy and Techno called him Friend on that night and Ghost just an hour ago… it all made sense.

And yet, the sadness that wracked her was nothing short of pure. Niki felt the memories from earlier return to plague her again, replaying in her head without an option to pause them. With this added context of Wilbur’s disorder, they’d become an infinite times more painful. Knowing that Wilbur had been suffering, that he’d not been in his body towards the end of their meal together, that whoever had taken his place was so deeply traumatised that they couldn’t even function - everything made her heart tear into pieces.

For the first time that night, Niki couldn’t contain herself.

As her shoulders shook, she could feel Techno’s gaze on her. But she knew instinctively that his gaze wasn’t judgemental. It was sorrowful, like he was another relative beside her at a funeral, mourning the same person. It was apologetic for having to cause her this agony. 

Yet, they both knew it was necessary. Wilbur had wanted it. And now, she understood his pain.

“It’s okay, Niki,” Techno murmured. He shifted a little closer. “He’ll be okay.”

“How do you know?” Niki asked tearfully. “Can someone so broken ever heal?”

Techno fell silent. Niki cried harder, destroyed by the thought of Wilbur and everything he’d been through. Wilbur, who’d been shattered before he’d had a chance to be whole. Wilbur, who’d been wronged so many times at such a young age. Wilbur, who’d been suffering by himself all this time.

“Of course.”

Through her tears, Niki heard Techno laugh again. It sounded like a laugh that didn’t mean anything, like it was one of those laughs that was there just to fill the space. But with Techno, everything he did felt deliberate. Every cue he gave, whether verbal or not, felt orchestrated to deliver the message he wanted. He was always so exact with how he presented his thoughts that it was difficult to believe that anything he did was a waste.

“Of course he can be healed,” said Techno. “How? I’m not a psychologist, so I can’t answer that. But I know broken people can be healed.”

Niki wiped her eyes. “Can therapy fix this level of- of trauma?”

“I’m not talking about the therapy,” Techno replied. “Of course, therapy definitely helps. But in the end, the biggest part of the healing process is the people beside him. And we’re the ones with this role.”

“And we’re supposed to help heal him?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“He’s already trying his best. But there’s something we give him that therapy can’t.”

“What is it?” Niki asked.

“Hope,” said Techno.

Chapter Text

CAN WE BLOW UP THE SCHOOL

     > #general

jackmanifold: do u think euthanasia is legal here

Ranboo: i don’t think so??

jackmanifold: gg

Fundy: why

jackmanifold: i want to die

i want to die before midterms please

one serving of death, sir, thank you very much

Fundy: true

i wish the exams could start tomorrow

so i can fail them all and get it over and done with

Slimecicle: :skull:

naur

fundy

Fundy: charlie i know i’m fucked

i just want daddy midterms to let me cum alr

why is he not letting me orgasm >:(

Eret: Aaaaaand part 9492491782 of Why I Don’t Check This Chat

Fundy: ERET

Eret: Sigh

Good afternoon

Slimecicle: howdy

have you prepared for midterms

Eret: I’m in the course of preparation

But I feel pretty alright about midterms

Fundy: dude i swear it’s the fucking arts privilege

no science student in their right mind is feeling ‘alright’ about the midterms rn

Technoblade: cough

Fundy: FUCK OFF

Technoblade: yes sir 

good day

Fundy: MMMMMMMMFASJKFSGGGHJASHGHKHEGHWEIGUGKSADG

jackmanifold: big mood

ugh

i want death

every day i think about exploding

clay: …weird way to go but ok

u do u

Slimecicle: you know what they say

go out with a bang

jackmanifold: EXACTLY

charlie gets me

Ranboo: i got ur mom

jackmanifold: .

Fundy: ,,bruh

Slimecicle: why does every single conversation here always come back to a ur mom joke

why are we so utterly incapable of humour

jackmanifold: i’d be ten times funnier if i weren’t currently suffering under the threat of midterms

BIG TOMMY: I CAN ATTEST THAT JACK IS NEVER FUNNY

NOT EVEN WHEN THERE AREN’T ANY EXAMS

jackmanifold: AY FUCK YOU TOMMY

get your ass back to maths remedial

BIG TOMMY: AND GET YOURS BACK TO REVISING INSTEAD OF TEXTING ON DISCORD

Fundy: wtf

since when did tommy have the ability to be savage

BIG TOMMY: I ALWAYS DID

Slimecicle: bro tommy just ended jack

there’s no recovering from this

jackmanifold: WHAT THE FUCK

Slimecicle: you got owned by a child

it’s time to retire and go live in a shack in the woods jack

Fundy: you’ve heard of elf on a shelf

now get ready for

jack in a shack

jackmanifold: @clay yo i thought cyberbullying wasn’t allowed here

clay: sigh

i gave up on enforcing that years ago

WilburSoot: as you should king

clay: ?????

this was not what i had in mind when i created this server

Ranboo: i had ur mom in mind

Fundy: SEE

bro we’re just not funny

Slimecicle: i’d like to point out the irony of tommy saying this server’s entertainment value would skyrocket because we have ranboo

all this mf is doing is repeating ur mom jokes

i want a refund

Eret: I think we’re all just tired because of midterms guys

It’s okay to be tired

Fundy: sigh

ur right eret

i think we’re all tired

Slimecicle: :(

after midterms we should take a break for a bit

especially with the holidays coming up after that

Fundy: oh trust me

i’m taking a break whether or not the school wants me to

Technoblade: bruh those are only midterms

u guys know we still have finals right

and finals are the ones that really matter

Fundy: techno go away

._.

i’m so depressed rn

i can’t stop thinking about how screwed i am

tubbo_: D:

fundy are u ok?

Fundy: no, no not really

sigh

i wish the school had counselling services that weren’t like

completely shit yk

Ranboo: mhmm

Fundy: then maybe students would be encouraged to talk to someone

WilburSoot: best school in the country and what do they have to show for it

medals upon medals

but also stressed, overworked students suffering from burnout

Fundy: exactly

i hate it here bro

and knowing our teachers they’re gonna pile on the homework after midterms

jackmanifold: ffffuuuuuuuuuck

ugh dude

i don’t want to think about it

tubbo_: fundy u can always talk to me if u need to!

Fundy: :’)

thank u tubbo

tubbo_: no problem! :D

Fundy: yeah i think eret’s right

we need a break man

this is too much

Ph1LzA: I pity you guys sometimes.

I mean, of course, I went through it as well

But times have changed, and the school system has definitely gotten a lot harder

Your generation is very different from mine, especially with the advancement of technology and all that

It wasn’t easy for me, sure, but it must be even harder for you all.

Fundy: aw phil

Slimecicle: thank u phil

god i wish my parents were like phil

Ph1LzA: Are they not?

I mean, if you’re willing to share, of course

Slimecicle: no, i mean, they’re great

they’re not abusive or anything, but they have the mentality of like

you know

‘studying is so much easier than working’

‘once you start working, you’ll wish you could go back to studying’

Fundy: oh

Slimecicle: and like, i love them, they’re great parents

they cook the best dinners

but sometimes i feel like that’s exactly why i can’t really talk to them about stress and stuff

jackmanifold: im sorry to hear that charlie

Slimecicle: no no

i know i’m really lucky to have loving parents

especially with,,

well

i know some of u guys don’t have the best home environments

Fundy: :(((

Slimecicle: haha

maybe i shouldn’t be complaining you know??

Ph1LzA: No, don’t think like that

You have every right to express your thoughts

No parents are perfect, Charlie.

Slimecicle: i feel almost ungrateful saying that

there are so many that would literally kill to have a fraction of what i have

sigh

Ph1LzA: Right, and that’s true, but these are your honest feelings

I think expressing them is a healthy and necessary outlet for your mental health.

You can have everything and still feel sad. Mental health doesn’t discriminate.

Slimecicle: mmmm

that makes sense

thank you phil

Fundy: who needs counselling when you have phil

phil is the best

Ph1LzA: I mean, I don’t have any training whatsoever

I’m just saying things from my heart.

And maybe sometimes, that’s enough.

Fundy: ;-;

phil can u adopt me too

BIG TOMMY: NO FUCK OFF

PHIL IS OURS

Fundy: SHARING IS CARING

HAVEN’T YOU HEARD

YOU BLOND BITCH

BIG TOMMY: ILL SHANK YOU

PHIL IS OURS AND OURS ONLY

GET UR FURRY ASS OUT OF HERE

Ph1LzA: Bruh

Eret: ‘Bruh’ sounds about right, yeah

Fundy: FUCKER

FIGHT ME IRL

YOU WON’T

--------

@WilburSoot

Technoblade: wil?

i need to talk to you about something

let me know when you’re online please

WilburSoot: hello techno

yeah what’s up?

Technoblade: you know usually i would say ‘not tommy’s grades’

but i want to be serious for this one

WilburSoot: ??????????

did u kill someone????

do u need me to hide the body?

dispose of the evidence?

Technoblade: no wtf

WilburSoot: owh

Technoblade: ???

anyway

WilburSoot: don’t ask

yes anyway

Technoblade: wil

i’m sorry

WilburSoot: wtf

for what

Technoblade: you know when you went to dinner with niki

and you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her?

WilburSoot: uh,, yeah

i’m still trying to figure out how to tell her fml

Technoblade: i,, kind of told her after we brought you back home

she was really shaken by ghost’s appearance and your meltdown

i’m really sorry wilbur

i know i didn’t have your permission

WilburSoot: oh

Technoblade: i didn’t feel like it would be okay to leave her in the dark anymore

especially after what she saw

and she’s fully willing to help in any way she can

WilburSoot: ,,,oh

Technoblade: i’m so sorry

WilburSoot: no no

i’m just

mmmafjklghsdgsakgafkd

i’m not mad at you

ig im relieved i won’t have to tell her,,,,??

but also

i don’t know

Technoblade: mm

WilburSoot: like, i know she’s really, really nice

sometimes i think she’s like a saint or smth

but it just feels so,,,

idk

Technoblade: i won't do this again wilbur

i just felt like i didn’t have a choice

and i’m really sorry

WilburSoot: NO IM NOT MAD AT YOU

i just,, don’t know how i’m going to continue being friends with her like nothing happened yk?

like,,, as nice as she is, she also knows i’m severely mentally ill now

and,,,, that,,,

that kind of makes me feel exposed

even though i wanted her to know

fuck,,,

mmmakgdshhsdgalkgsadklkjgkjds

Technoblade: how did you continue being friends with us?

WilburSoot: bruh

u guys are different

u were the ones who suggested i go for the evaluation in the first place

Technoblade: yes

but we also knew

you didn’t feel exposed then?

WilburSoot: ig i knew you guys long enough

i felt safe with you all

you guys already knew about my past

news of the diagnosis didn’t feel like,, it’s earth-shattering to you guys the way it is with niki

and i was also dealing with denial and stuff then

Technoblade: mhmm

WilburSoot: i mean

i’m not mad at you

i’m glad you told me though,, that you told her

Technoblade: of course lmao

can u imagine

u meet her or something

“hey will i’m sorry to hear about your diagnosis”

“…what the fuck”

WilburSoot: LOL

yeah that would be p awkward HAHAHAH

Technoblade: not only would it be awkward

you would never make friends again

but of course i would apologise

it’s been bugging me all this while actually

i know it’s not my information to divulge

WilburSoot: i know

i understand techno

i know you had good intentions

thank you

sigh,,, well now ig i don’t have to figure out how to tell niki lol :thumbsup:

Technoblade: saved ur ass :thumbsup:

WilburSoot: as homies do

Technoblade: exactly

WilburSoot: i’ll,,, try to make sense of this

sorry techno

i’m having a bit of brain fog at the moment

with midterms and everything,,, like fuck

i don’t blame fundy/jack/charlie for wanting to spontaneously combust rn

Technoblade: speaking of midterms

how are you coping?

WilburSoot: sigh

i’ll manage ig

Technoblade: remember to ask me for help if you need it

WilburSoot: i will

Technoblade: will you tell your psych about how friend ran away? and ghost’s flashbacks too

WilburSoot: yeah probably

my next appointment is this weekend so

Technoblade: okay

i mean i’m just concerned

especially because friend ran away from too much stress?

is it academic stress?

WilburSoot: ,,,i don’t know, techno

i’m not friend

Technoblade: oh, yeah, of course

my bad

just worried, wilbur

WilburSoot: yeah, i know

thank you so much

Technoblade: no worries

WilburSoot: <3 love you

Technoblade: <3 love you too, wilbur

WilburSoot: as homies do

Technoblade: exactly

Chapter Text

“Could I ask you a question?”

His therapist leaned back into her chair and smiled amicably, lacing her fingers together in her lap. “Sure, Will.”

Wilbur shifted uncomfortably. “Wilbur.”

“Right,” she sighed, throwing her hands up in an exasperated manner. “Sorry. Go ahead, Wilbur.”

Wilbur opened his mouth to ask his question, but then a sudden moment of indecisiveness hit him. He paused, thought about what he wanted to say again, and went over the phrasing.

“Have you- have you ever worked with someone else like me?”

She bent forward slightly, questions on her face. “Like you?”

Wilbur made a feeble gesture towards himself. “As in, someone with DID.”

“Oh.” She thought for a minute. “I can’t say I’ve worked with someone like you, as in, they were my patient. But when I was still doing my internship, my supervisor had a client who also suffered from DID. She was a very nice lady, but I didn’t get to interact with her much since she wasn’t my client.”

He processed this information, nodding as she spoke.

“Was there a reason for asking that, Wilbur?”

“Huh?” He jerked to attention. “Oh, not really, I was just curious and stuff. I guess I never really thought about… about it cognitively.”

His therapist gave him an amused look. “Cognitively?”

“Well, like, with a disorder like this, it’s hard to think about anything cognitively.” He laughed, more to himself than anything. It was humourless and bland. “The fog and amnesia makes it so difficult to remember anything, and the way the days pass… it’s furtive, almost.”

He looked back up at her. “I hope you understand what I’m saying.”

“Could you elaborate on what you said? About the way days pass for you.”

“Well-” He scratched his nape. It was easy to experience emotion, but not so easy to translate them into words. “When I say furtive, it’s sort of- I suppose- imagine them like… little rat-burglars, sneaking past you one by one, with their black eye-masks and striped shirts, big rucksacks over their shoulders, all that jazz. You really don’t notice them stealing away your time, until you do, and by then it’s too late.”

“I see. I’m sorry that happens to you.”

“Why are you sorry?” He leaned back and grinned, crossing his arms. He didn’t know why, but for some reason, he found her rather funny. Apologising for something she had nothing to do with? Why would she do that? Who was she, anyway? Why was he telling her these things?

“I can’t imagine what it must be like to live like that, with such huge memory gaps and so many alters.” Her voice had gone soft and sympathetic. It made him want to cringe until his head snapped off and his neck erupted in a fountain of blood. “It must be really hard for you.”

“It is, thank you,” he replied sarcastically, plucking off the prescription glasses he had on his face in annoyance.

She eyed his actions, a wry smile slowly crossing her face. “Are your eyes tired?”

“Very,” he groaned. “God knows how long I’ve been wearing these.”

“It’s alright if you want to close them for a while, Wilbur. As long as you can talk to me and not fall asleep.”

He laughed loudly, relieved to be able to shut his eyes. “My name’s not Wilbur. But I appreciate the effort.”

“I thought so too.”

He opened one eyelid lethargically at this. “Yeah? How did you know?”

“The rat-burglar analogy. I don’t think Wilbur would use that.”

“Of course not.” He decided then that he kind of liked this lady, whoever she was.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said. “Can I have your name?”

“R. Fakier,” he said instinctively, and then immediately wondered why he was telling her things when he still didn’t know who she was.

“Oh,” she said, sounding surprised. “Your name is quite similar to-”

“I. Fakier’s?”

She nodded. “I met him a few sessions back.”

R. Fakier laughed, shrugging his shoulders carelessly. He was in the midst of trying to peel off Wilbur’s stiff uniform collar from his neck. “He and I are twins, so. By the way, don’t mind my fidgeting.”

“And I’ve never met you. I. Fakier didn’t mention he had a twin.”

“I wouldn’t mention it either, Miss, considering I still don’t know who you actually are.”

She blinked, stunned. “Oh, yes. I haven’t introduced myself, have I? Would you like me to?”

He made a flourishing gesture as if to say ‘go ahead’.

“I’m Wilbur’s therapist. My name is Dr. Lee.”

“Doctor?” R. Fakier repeated, in disbelief. He whistled softly. “You must be really smart, then.”

Her eyes twinkled with suppressed mirth. “You guys are smart too. You’re in one of the best high schools in the country.”

R. Fakier made a disgruntled sound deep in his throat. “One of the best high schools, but one of the most terrible uniforms. Good lord.” He tried again fruitlessly to separate the skin of his neck from the thick fabric of the collar.

Dr. Lee pointed at the buttoned-up front of the shirt. “You might want to try undoing one or two buttons on there, R. Fakier.”

He stopped fiddling with the collar. “Oh.” Then he got to work unbuttoning the first button. “Sorry. Didn’t notice them. Too focused on the darn collar.”

“It’s no worries at all.” Dr. Lee glanced at her laptop. “We have to end soon, but before I let you go, do you have anything you want to tell me about?”

R. Fakier furrowed his eyebrows. “I’ve never done this therapy-thing before. What should I tell you about? Like, my day? What I remember?”

“You can, if you want to.”

“Uhh,” he hesitated, combing through the literal mess that was his memory. “Okay. I ate pancakes one day. I don’t remember which day. I had a smoke-”

“You had a smoke? Like, a cigarette?”

“I don’t remember when. But yes, I did have a smoke.”

"Please don't do that again," Dr. Lee sighed. “You're not legal yet.”

R. Fakier smirked wolfishly. “I'll try. No promises.”

Dr. Lee raised her eyebrows in the way R. Fakier observed people did when they were trying to make sense of something shocking. “Well, our time is up, but thank you for coming in today.”

“Okay.” He felt like it was unnecessary to add that he wasn’t the one who came in.

“You can make your next appointment outside, at the counter. Are you familiar with how to do that?”

“No.”

Dr. Lee smiled. “I figured. You can always call in as well. Just make sure you leave a note for Wilbur, or anyone else who knows how to do so.”

“Oh, don’t you worry.” R. Fakier flashed her his widest grin. “I’ll leave a note, all right.”

--------

‘hi wilbur met your therapist and stuff she said her name is dr lee? or smethin i think. but anyway she’s a doctor? trust you to find someone smart - yeah she told me to write to you and tell you to make an appointment by calling them. so yes here you go. (btw ur uniform sucks. it’s so uptight and hot)

– R. Fakier’

Wilbur stared at the scrawling handwriting, a sense of stark embarrassment and mortification slowly overtaking him. Jesus Christ, why couldn’t he stay present in his own therapy sessions? And why of all people did it have to be R. Fakier?

He felt deeply tempted to write back, something along the lines of ‘bro wtf’ or ‘dude srsly’ , but instead Wilbur crumpled up the small scrap of paper and tossed it before crossing the room to grab his phone and give the clinic a call.

He wasn’t entirely mentally present during the call either. R. Fakier’s note was stuck in his head despite him not wanting to bother about it anymore, and when he got off the line Wilbur found himself walking back to the bin and retrieving the piece of paper against his will.

It was the same message. So what the hell was he lingering on it for? But Wilbur kept staring, re-reading the note until the words didn’t seem like words. Maybe it was some kind of rudimentary fascination with R. Fakier’s handwriting and how different it was compared to his?

Slowly, as if transfixed by the note, Wilbur went and got a pen. Then, on a notebook, he began to write the same message down neatly:

‘hi wilbur met your therapist and stu’

He let the pen roll to the side, burying his face in his hands. What the literal fuck was he doing? 

Wilbur sighed loudly and slammed the notebook shut, yanking open the nearby drawer and shoving it back inside. He took one last glance at R. Fakier’s note, and this time, instead of throwing it away, folded it up and pinned the little square to his corkboard. Then he slid the drawer closed again and pulled out his newest maths worksheet. He had better things to do.

--------

OHANA

     > #general

Ph1LzA: @WilburSoot hey wil

Are you free right now?

WilburSoot: yeah just studying maths

or trying to

whats up phil

Ph1LzA: So I just got a text from your clinic about your next appointment

It’s next Saturday morning?

Don’t you have a remedial lesson then?

WilburSoot: holy fuck i’m stupid

i’m so stupid?????

ur right phil i’m so sorry

i’ll fix it rn

Ph1LzA: No you’re not stupid Will

Everyone makes mistakes.

WilburSoot: no i just

ugh

sorry phil i think my mind was elsewhere when i made that call

Ph1LzA: Yeah, that’s alright

Just make another appointment and cancel the one you made

It’s fine, Wilbur, easily solved.

WilburSoot: yeah

i mean

yeah

thanks phil

Ph1LzA: You’re welcome :)

How’s everyone, by the way?

Technoblade: i’m good

chilling right now

playing some minecraft

Ph1LzA: Homework done?

Technoblade: phil i don’t think the teacher really wants me in class anymore at this point

they’re scared of me

i finished the whole workbook

Ph1LzA: Okay, good for you

BIG TOMMY: WHAT THE FUCK?!!?!?!

Technoblade: lmao i bet u haven’t done ur homework

have u

BIG TOMMY: WELL

Technoblade: L bozo

Ph1LzA: …Tommy.

BIG TOMMY: PHIL PLS

PLS NO

Ph1LzA: Go do your homework

Midterms are in less than two weeks

BIG TOMMY: IM TRYING

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Technoblade: tommy go

you’ll thank us when midterms are over

BIG TOMMY: techno will u play minecraft with me after exams???

:((((

Technoblade: of course tommy

BIG TOMMY: :((((((( okay,,,,

i’ll go do my work,,,,,,,,

Technoblade: :)

Ph1LzA: Good boy, Toms

BIG TOMMY: BUT YOU PROMISE!!!!

minecraft after exams

Technoblade: i promise tommy

BIG TOMMY: YAY

Ph1LzA: Thanks, Techno

You’re a great help as always

Technoblade: sometimes it’s tough being the best

WilburSoot: actually um

techno & phil? if you’re free rn could i borrow like 5 minutes

nth serious dw

Technoblade: sure

let me jump into the void

WilburSoot: bruh

finish your game first

Technoblade: nahhh

skywars can wait

i can easily make up for it with how braindead hypixel players are

what’s up wilbur

WilburSoot: so

during my last therapy session

r. fakier was there

and apparently the therapist told him to write a note to me to remind me to make a new appointment

Ph1LzA: Uh huh

Did he?

WilburSoot: he did

but

as i was reading his note i kind of realised

i’ve never seen any of their handwritings

aside from i. fakier’s

Technoblade: oh yeah

i. fakier

if someone’s smarter than me it’s probably that guy

WilburSoot: i remember

he wrote a biology essay and my teacher actually called me to his office and asked where i was getting people to write my essays for me

because the handwriting was different and stuff

and apparently it was some quality shit

Technoblade: bruh LMAOO

WilburSoot: fr

i was like ?????????????

yeah it took a while to convince him that i didn’t pay someone to write that for me

although,, i’ve been tempted to before

Technoblade: what

WilburSoot: what

Ph1LzA: What

WilburSoot: COUGH anyway

yeah that’s what i was thinking about

i even copied down the first sentence of r. fakier’s note

to compare

Ph1LzA: And?

WilburSoot: his handwriting is so messy

but it’s legible ig

i. fakier’s is so neat it looks like a fucking font

Technoblade: so despite the fact that they’re twins…

Ph1LzA: …They’re complete opposites?

WilburSoot: exactly

but i’m glad i got to see his handwriting ig

sometimes i feel like,, these other parts of me have so many quirks and qualities i don’t know about

and my therapist says they’re not so much different people as they are different versions of me

Ph1LzA: Mhmm

WilburSoot: ,,,idk

i’m just glad

and curious now

i wonder what,, friend’s handwriting is like

or ghost’s

or

Technoblade: rev’s?

WilburSoot: yeah

Technoblade: well, if i ever see friend or ghost again, i can ask them if they want to leave a message for you?

i think friend would love to

idk about ghost though

WilburSoot: yeah

don’t force them to do things they don’t want to

but if they agree that’d be nice :))

Ph1LzA: We can definitely ask.

No harm there.

Technoblade: agree

WilburSoot: thank you guys

love you both <3

ok i better get back to math ugh

fuck my life

Technoblade: LMAO that was quick

quicker than tommy losing focus

BIG TOMMY: WTF

Ph1LzA: Tommy???????

BIG TOMMY: SHIT

Technoblade: point proven