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mysticalsoot · 7 months

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reconciliation and forgiveness

part 2 of 'peer pressure and canned beer' // bs au

➸ note; so- it's not Halloween themed but it is a fic I've been procrastinating finishing for five months (basically no motivation for it-) but it's now complete and I have some more wips for this au that I'm working on!! i couldn't keep it to myself any longer so- yeah here I am!! also!! please let me know if you want to be added to the bs au taglist or my main taglist

➸ pairing; bs!au wilbur gold/soot x gn!reader

➸ summary; after convincing from your other crew trainer and a couple weeks of a break; you finally decide to talk it out with wilbur on what happened that night (can be read as standalone but context from part 1 would be good as well!)

➸ warning; angst, hurt/comfort, I easily forgive Wilbur, that's my own problem, kissing, mentions of being drunk/hungover, probably swearing, tension but not good tension

➸ age-rating; 15+

➸ wordcount; 2.9k

part 1

main masterlist

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Your hope somehow turned into a manifestation, and thankfully, Wilbur got stuck in sickbay--after Grace had dragged him there, of course following a very very long drawn out lecture that he most definitely deserved. You wanted to lay in bed and rot, you didn't want to talk to anyone, speak a single word or even open your eyes. You managed to get away with that for the first half of the day, and you hummed when you felt the bed dip beside you. Your dad was here.

"Kiddo.. how are you feeling?" You open your eyes, watching as his lips curl into a solemn smile.

"I'm not the one with a hangover." Your tone is flat and dry, you could care less for inflection at this moment. You'd rather be left alone to wither away to dust, but your dad is insistent. He isn't going to let go, he'll want to be there for you, and he always has.

"Yeah, well, when he's out of sickbay I'm going to have a talk with him and then his parents," He pats your knee, sighing before looking down and folding his hands in his lap.

"Is he.." Your voice falters as you take a deep breath and curl onto your side, "Will he get in trouble?"

Your dad shrugs, looks over at you and let's a soft smile curl on his lips before speaking, "A bit. He did break curfew, sneak out and consume alcohol. But I do know him, and I know it wasn't his idea. I'm not going to punish him as if it was his idea."

"You know it was- It was them, right?" Your father nods at your inquiry.

"It was obvious that it was, this isn't the first time they've pulled such a thing," he pauses, thinking for a moment, he rubs your hair and then sighs, “I think you should go ahead to breakfast, yeah?”

He stands up, nodding at you, bidding to see you later before leaving the room. You groan in annoyance before standing up and heading to your dorm to change. It doesn't take you longer than a few minutes to do so, not bothering with your hair before shutting your dorm door and hurrying down the stairs.

It's a Saturday morning, at least lucky for you. And perhaps for Wil too. He stays in sickbay and doesn't miss any classes. You don't have any classes to attend and you can just flee back to your room to rot, like you intended to.

Your mind sort of shuts down on the walk over to the cafeteria, numb of thoughts and feelings as your eyes drop carelessly. It's relatively bare of students, which isn't a surprise for eight in the morning on a Saturday, most kids wake up around nine or ten and don't bother to eat until lunchtime.

Unlucky for you, you're a morning bird and so is Andy. So even if you didn't sleep in his and your father's dorm, you'd still wake up to have breakfast with him.

The moment you step into line, grabbing your tray after you sanitized your hands, your mind then fell to thoughts of Wil. Mornings where you'd both stand in line and talking about everything and nothing while grabbing your food and sitting down together. Laughing and smiling and going about your days together. Something you can't quite do now, and you aren't sure if you even want to. Do you even want to be around him?

It's a valid question that you asked yourself, although you're sure in a week you'll have forgiven him and forgotten about last night. But for the moment, you feel more hurt and angry than he's ever made you. Maybe it's the fact he let himself get pressured, or maybe it's that he didn't stop May from kissing him or the words he used when you tried to help him. It was probably a combination of things, but lucky for him you can't seem to be angry at him for long.

Your tray fills up, or at least somewhat. The star hashbrowns and the pancakes shaped as moons seem to be your choice for the morning. You find a seat at your usual place, staring out the large windows and watching students and teachers walk by. Some museum guests too, admiring the newly remodeled Pathfinder. It only took them four or so years to get it fixed, so might as well admire their work.

What feels like miliseconds but was probably minutes passes by, and Andy fits a seat in front of you, smiling softly with almost a hint of sadness to it.

"How are you feeling?" He speaks so gently, like you were a kicked puppy completely incapable of doing anything.

"Why do people keep fucking asking me that? I'm fucking fine," You seethe, and you catch a glimpse of Andy almost flinching and then his mouth curves down into a frown, "Sorry," you mumble the simple apology, looking down and sighing.

"I'm just worried about you, kiddo. Y'know? We all are," He almost reaches forward to rest his hand on yours, but he holds back realizing it may not be the best idea. Words will simply have to do.

"Everyone heard, huh?" you scoff, rolling your eyes at the thought as you mess with your pancakes, not bothering to eat them quite yet.

Andy nods gingerly, "The whole floor probably."

"That's my fault, I shouldn't have provoked a drunk guy," you put down your fork, glancing up at Andy as he gazes at you, worry etched on his features.

"It's no one's fault, okay? It happened and things will be handled accordingly. Your father and I have a meeting with Evan and Cati, and the trainers for that other team. Hopefully we'll come to an agreement on what happened before we get leadership involved," He takes a bite of his own food after speaking, hoping that it'll somehow indirectly encourage you to eat. It's worked before, so why not now?

"Keep dad in check for me, yeah?" A soft smirk plays on your lips at the thought, your dad can be decently protective of his kids and sometimes gets a bit heated. He's a good teacher though, and Ethan is the same way. Cati and Andy have a handful today.

"I'll do my best, lucky for me, he's short and easily containable," He pauses, sucking in a breath as his eyebrows raise, "Mostly."

He keeps quiet for a while, watching you every now and then as you slowly eat your breakfast. Your mind wanders where it shouldn't, dabbling in thoughts that should never see the light of day, but yet they do.

Thoughts and regrets bubble up, swirling together in a dangerous concoction. Maybe you should have just kept your mouth shut. Or perhaps it would've been best if you fought him on going. The mature thing to do is to talk to Wilbur, get it over with and come to a kind agreement. But what you want to do is never speak to him again. You know you're probably being overdramatic. That it isn't worth your breath to ponder over it or be so pissed off about the situation. It wastes more energy than it's worth. Yet you can't help it, you're hurt and you're angry and all you want to do is scream at the moment.

"You should go visit Wilbur, talk to him," Andy finally speaks up, his tray already taken care of and the team's teacher binder set in front of him.

"I don't think it's a good idea," A deep sigh slips past your lips as you chew on a hashbrown you grabbed a moment ago.

"You'll never know if you don't try," He pauses, hesitating and thinking over whatever he has planned to say next, "It may be your last time to see him in person for a while. He's probably going to be suspended."

You weigh the thought in your mind, considering his words and your own thoughts and worries. It takes you a few minutes before you nod, surrendering, "Okay, fine," you let out a gentle breath, playing with your food again.

Andy smiles, nodding before standing up and taking his binder with him. He begins to walk away before stopping beside you, resting his hand on your shoulder to encourage you to meet his eyes. You do.

"I love you, kiddo. Remember that," His lips curve up softly, a warm smile meant for you. The intention meant to solidify his words. He loves you, and you're thankful of that.

"I know," you smile softly, nodding as you keep your gaze up at him, "I love you too."

He nods again, patting your shoulder before walking away and then you're left with your thoughts yet again. Letting them run wild won't do you much good, even if wallowing and rotting seems the most appealing, it isn't the best plan of action. So you take a deep breath, and stand up, walking over to take care of your tray. You run your fingers over the concrete walls, letting your mind numb itself for the walk over to sick bay.

You pray and hope this isn't a bad idea, that Wilbur won't be against seeing you. That he won't view you in the way he seemed to last night. That he'll hear you out for once and perhaps rectify what he messed up. You have responsibility in the matter as well, and you have every plan to apologize yourself. Where you can, at the least.

It's fall now, the chilly air filling your lungs and what leaves have changed now fall from selective trees. Alabama Octobers are like that, selective in its weather and what leaves fall, and what trees turn. But it's nice, it's relaxing and it gives something different even if it's annoying.

You pass underneath the Pathfinder, gazing up at it as you venture through the courtyard it's placed in. There's not many students out today, or at this hour at the least. But a few wander the campus, speaking amongst one another. A few couples make out behind bushes or behind aircraft. You turn into the covered opening, pushing the door open and entering sick bay.

A younger nurse sits at the desk and looks up at you, "What can I do for you, hun?" Her smile is sweet and soft, it's welcoming and she seems decently spry for how early it is.

"I'm here to visit Wilbur Gold?" Your voice lilts at the end, raising in question as you fidget with your fingers.

"He's over there, bunk two," she smiles and nods and you make your way over, knocking on the walls separating the bunk areas.

"Hi," you whisper, eyes glancing down at Wilbur where he sits on the bottom bunk. He looks up at you, eyes widening in a combination of shock and worry.

"Hey," he mumbles in return, putting down the textbook he had in hand and shutting it.

You hold your breath for a moment, mind wandering for a few more seconds as you wonder what to say and then it slips out, "I'm sorry, about last night."

You step into the small bunk room, fingers wringing together and tapping your fingertips together. He shakes his head, a wry laugh let out at your words.

"It's not your fault,"

You stop him short, "but I did antagonize you."

For some reason that you cant quite place, you don't have it in you to be angry, and instead you're just in a state of guilt. You should have stopped him from going, even if it wasn't your job to protect him.

"So? I was the drunk asshole who kissed another girl. I'm sorry, y/n. It's my fault." He pats the spot beside him, pulling his legs up against his chest to make room for you on the small bunk.

You keep quiet, not sure what else to say as you take a seat on the other side of the bunk, keeping your gaze on the wall. Wilbur mirrors your silence, chewing on his lip, his eyes boring into the side of your face.

"I'm only getting a two week suspension," he finally breaks the silence, trying desperately to grasp at something, anything with you.

You nod softly, taking in a deep breath, you turn to him yet don't make eye contact, "Good," you stop again, standing and beginning to walk out.

"I forgive you, but- I need a bit. if that's okay?" You step through the doorway, over the threshold and turn the corner. Wilbur doesn't respond, he just lets the vacant sound of your footsteps retreating out of sickbay.

He doesn't know what he'll do with himself when he's gone, yet he's sure some wallowing will be involved.

You, on the other hand, spend the rest of the day hiding away in the Davidson center. Wilbur is on the other side of campus, packing for his two week suspension back at home. You're sure his parents had a few colorful words for him once they were called and that you were right about. His father had more things to say than his mom, of anything his dad wasn't as aware as her on how susceptible Wilbur could be to peer pressure. Wil wasn't sure if his dad even knew him anymore, and sometimes you wonder if you would have felt the same, if your dad hadn't adopted you. Maybe Charlie feels that way.

You kept to yourself for the following two weeks, talking with your sister and some of your friends but mostly keeping to yourself. You spend so much time to yourself that you're ahead with your work, which isn't too out of the picture since you mostly are on track but with the extra time to yourself; you get ahead.

As usual, your dad is proud of you, showing that outwardly but also keeping his worries to himself, watching you closely and almost acting as if you'll break if he breathes too hard. And maybe you will, you're not even sure yourself.

Sometimes you feel like a live fuse, ready to burn and implode, but other times you just feel numb, unsure on how to process things. Yet as the day he comes back crawls closer, you find yourself growing at peace with your situation, still missing him but almost forgiving him through his absence. You kept in contact with him, but it was far and few between given your schedule with school and him sort of being a bit grounded. He did explain that was his father's doing, it made sense to you how it was.

You woke up that morning, reaching for your phone just to see the excited messages he left for you. How he was finally looking forward to seeing you again, and the plans he had for you both.

You knew he had apologies attached and that he only wanted to mutter them in person, for that, you were thankful.

You managed to go about your day quietly, tidying up your bunk before heading over to the library on campus, returning a few books you borrowed for a project, and then walking back over to the main museum. Wandering through the halls and exhibits, admiring them as if you don't pass by them hundreds of times a day. It kept your mind off everything.

Somewhere between them and now, you'd walked back to your dorm, turning into the room only to see Wilbur unpacking. You stop in the doorway, watching him make his bunk and put away his bags.

"Hey, Wil," you finally speak up, greeting him and he immediately turns to face you, smiling happily at you.

"Hey," he whispers, walking over to you and offering a hug, which you gratefully take, falling into his arms and hugging him tightly around his waist.

"I'm glad you're back," you mumble against his chest, holding yourself tighter against him, reveling in his warmth; something you didnt realize you missed so much.

"Me too," he breathes, kissing your cheek before pulling back to look down at you, "I'm sorry, genuinely. I shouldn't have let her kiss me, and I sure as hell shouldn't have snapped at you how I did. You didn't deserve any of that, and so I'm sorry."

a small smile creeps up on your lips as he speaks, rambling at a speed faster than what should be humanly possible. so once he takes a breath, you lean up to press your lips to his, letting his mold to yours as you kiss one another, the exchange beginning to build in tension. he holds his hands on your hips, pulling you flush against him as you reach your fingers to sift through the curls on the back of his head. soft whimpers and hums are shared between your mouths, his grip getting tighter as you lift yourself higher on your toes.

you take a few more moments before you both decide to break for breath, eyes meeting before you both smile and laugh, "so, am I forgiven?" he whispers against your lips, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth before swiping his thumbs over your hip bones.

"mmm.. yeah, I think so," you giggle, standing back flat on your feet before you begin to tug him towards the door.

"where are you taking me?" he speaks through soft laughs, quite happy with how things turned out, even if he got his ass handed to him.

"our spot."

he smiles at the mention, nodding as you drag him away; most likely to make out. regardless, you're both happy with how things turned out and are sure to move forward from here. you forgave him, so all that needs to happen is for him to forgive himself.

main taglist; @lcvejoy @lillylvjy @ella-fella-bo-bella @lotusanonymouse @willgoldszn @whos-nicooo @zebonos

bs au taglist; @lillylvjy @lyssys

(send an ask to be added to either list!!)

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screwzara · 8 months

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Made a tiny continuation to this post :)))

@button-soda

#Blind Strike AU #BS AU #Blind Strike AU [Past]#reaper!dice au #cuphead au #king dice au #au #jfnmdfjjfjfjffm #XD #im loving making them interact #jfndmkddjkfd #don't mind me filling up the sweater in color then not #kcmdkfkfkd #my mind is all over the place #Blind Strike AU x Reaper!Dice AU Shenanigans

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brawlstars-dragon-au · 1 year

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More dragon sketches from a Brawl Stars server I'm in ✨️ these were all suggestions when I ask for random brawlers :D

#bs dragon au #brawl stars #brawlstars #in order:#max #mandy #Chester #leon #sandy #i need to find a more efficient tagging system #bs au #robos art tag #sketch dump #concepts #uhh i think thats all yeye #also! the askbox is open if y'all wanna request dragons 👀#doodles- that is

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hourcat · 2 years

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“Did you just tell the commander of our battalion to leave his own house?” Charles’ voice filters through his brain hazily as he comes out of whatever fit that had come over him. Pierre, standing beside his dining chair, grips the back of it tight for a second before exhaling.

They’re alone in the room, now, dinner all but abandoned—Horner had left at his suggestion even though, Charles is correct, this is still very much his home. The guards had walked behind him, clearly taken aback at how the evening’s events had unfolded. What was meant to be a dinner for formally introducing the details of the initial Nasseau proposal had become…

Well, Pierre saw red the moment Commander Horner had begun nit-picking Charles’ intentions behind putting it all together. He doesn’t remember exactly what he’d said even though it had only happened moments before, but it doesn’t matter, because this is Charles. Charles, who is putting himself on the line for such an enlightened military excursion and getting torn down for it. Getting his character insulted. Charles is Pierre’s best friend. Pierre loves him. Was he supposed to just stand by and allow it to happen before his eyes?

After a beat of silence, Pierre huffs softly and turns towards where Charles is still sitting at the table, looking at him with those wide, disbelieving green eyes. He continues speaking. “Right now, Horner must be relaying messages among his petty officers to get in contact with every connection of his on the council.” Charles doesn’t sound angry at Pierre’s outburst. Instead, he seems…pensive. Calculating, like always when they’re discussing parliamentary matters. He runs a hand over his powdered wig and then peels it away, slow and thoughtful, before itching at his hair. “He will stop at nothing to make sure this plan of ours never sees the light of day.” He exhales softly. “And now…Pierrot, now you are in the line of fire.”

A laugh bubbles up from somewhere in Pierre’s gut, to his own shock. “I am an officer of the Navy,” he answers quietly, shaking his head. “I am always in the line of fire.” It is worth it, to protect Charles’ endeavors—to keep their plan alive until the very end, even if it falls on deaf ears in a council that’s entrenched in Christian Horner’s pocket. Charles has to know that—that Pierre is committed to this cause of theirs, that he’s committed to doing anything Charles needs him to. He offers his friend a smile, small and probably not as comforting as he’d intended, but the worried expression on Charles’ face is too much for him to bear.

Pierre committed to him when they were small, promised on a blood oath that he would fight by Charles’ side until his dying breath. This is no exception, even if his blood won’t be spilled directly in the process.

Charles returns his faint smile. (At least Horner’s spiteful words seem to have rolled off his back.) Pierre watches as it spreads slowly across his face, still quiet and disbelieving but also, at least here, knowing. He does know Pierre better than anyone, after all.

“Pierre,” Charles says quietly, shakes his head once. The smile catches the lamplight of the dining room as he pushes his chair out from the table.

“People can say what they like about you,” Pierre says softly, turning to fully face his closest friend. Charles’ eyes are fixed on him, smile still glittering in the low light of the room. “But you are a good man. More people should say that.” And then, unthinkingly, he continues. “Someone should be willing to defend that.” The words feel heavy on his tongue as he says them—like they’re weighed down with something else, with something that Pierre doesn’t know how to say or feel or even understand. But it’s the truth—it’s the truth because that is what Charles makes him, an honest man. His whole life, Charles has kept him that way.

Charles, who has now stood from his seat and is walking around the table and towards him. His expression is unreadable, although Pierre should be at least relieved he no longer looks worried at the consequences of Pierre’s outburst. The world will go on after this, he thinks, trying to force the guilt from his chest. Horner may lash out at first, but he will eventually see reason. Wolff is the one who makes a majority of the decisions on this front, anyway; Pierre knows he will be able to speak with him later and explain his own behavior and the intentions behind the dinner without fear of being misunderstood. Torger is a man of passion. He will understand.

Pierre exhales, blinks, and suddenly Charles is standing before him. He’s still smiling. “Pierre,” he repeats, reaching out to rest a hand on Pierre’s shoulder. He’s warm—it bleeds through the fabric of Pierre’s uniform and settles over his skin, something that is so typically Charles and yet sends a shiver of something inexplicable up his spine nevertheless.

And then Charles moves even closer, hand still pressed into Pierre’s shoulder, eyes searching Pierre’s face, a quiet urgency behind them even though Pierre can’t imagine—this is—

“Pierre.” Charles’ eyes keep moving to his lips and back up to meet his gaze. Over and over, and Pierre is suddenly breathless because Charles sinks in to close the final remaining space between them and Pierre lets him.

During the most tumultuous evening of Pierre’s naval career, Charles kisses him full on the mouth, cautious but unapologetic, and Pierre lets him. Arms still at his sides, he allows Charles to kiss him for a beat and then realizes, belatedly, that he—he wants to kiss Charles back.

So he does.

He’s careful, too, of course; he’s slow to slide his hands up Charles’ sides and let them settle on his back, a place so familiar to him and yet so impossibly different in the here and now. He’s kissing Charles. His closest friend, another man, an officer of the navy who has a wife at home that Pierre cherishes his relationship with. Pierre has a wife—or a woman that will be his wife, anyway, not that he’s ever been one to indulge in that fantasy. But this feels…right, somehow. Charles fits so perfectly against him. Charles kisses him and has found a way to speak through it.

Thank you, he seems to say, for defending me. Tongue gliding over his bottom lip, unoccupied hand now settled delicately at Pierre’s cheek, Charles continues to kiss him like this is something they can do. Like this is something they can have.

Like this is something they can come back from.

“Pierre,” Charles whispers when he pulls away, voice barely audible even though he’s not even a hairsbreadth away.

Finally, finally, Pierre’s voice seems to return to him. “Charles,” he answers, allowing his hand to come up and cradle his friend’s cheek as if a mirror. “Charles. I—” and then he stops, because. What can he say? What could he possibly say, after this? Pierre has promised his life to Charles. However he needs him, Pierre will be there.

When he moves forward to initiate the next kiss, just as careful and hesitant as the first, Pierre realizes that this, too, is his. Whatever has just shifted between them—it is Charles’, entirely and without hesitation.

#10 x 16 #fic #bs au #not tagging bc literally nobody asked for this! unfortunately i am unhinged and unwell enough to put more words into this

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eclipsedcrystalstar · 8 months

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People who don’t know her you have one guess is she evil

#eclipse fnaf #moondrop #sundrop #moon fnaf #daycare attendant #fnaf daycare attendant #sun fnaf #crystals art #BS AU

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blind-strike-au · 8 months

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|| First ! || ← Previous || Next → ||

#blind strike au #bs au #blind strike ask box #cuphead au #au #cuphead #and before u ask #no the oc doesn't have a major role in the au #they're just side characters i thought i should add to the story #cuphead oc

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bbyteach · 5 months

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Uhhh sooooo NYC 80’s punk scene AU where ed used to play in bands when younger but not anymore & runs a popular venue and is totally burned out on the scene. Until a blonde weirdo wearing pastels started coming to shows there and he had to understand what is going on with this guy?? And the guy wants to learn more about this world and Ed confused but ends up having more fun than he has in ages??

#ofmd #blackbonnet #our flag means death #edward teach #stede bonnet #gentlebeard #ofmd season 2 #my draws #ofmd au #I rushed the first one to hammer it out bc last drawing of the year babyyyyy #one of Ed’s old bands was called ‘here comes the kraken’#anyway he’s burned out on The Grind and all the bad bs in punk spaces overall #he’s not too cool to get flowers now in fact he welcomes the occasion okay #and uh. happy new year #oh and the venue is queen Anne’s revenge bc he’s a pirate history nerd maybe idk #punks and pirates seem like they are kindred spirits #for vastly different goals but… you know

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kaysdenofchaos · 3 months

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The boys finally made it B] @tmntaucompetition

And, of course, to keep my promise <3

Two hostile turtles colliding with each other? What could go wrong :3

—

Swanatello by @tangledinink

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dustbar · 2 months

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So, can I take a picture with my twin?

hes a little shy

#YAY #INTRODUCING MR MOONSHINE <- ALCHOL /AND/ NONSENSE CONTEXT #WOOHOOO #corrupted nightmare #nightmare sans #murder sans #dust sans #bad sanses #bar sanses #bs au #undertale au #sans au #yes mr moonshine is trans #<- in your FACE BABYYYY

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harvsboy · 2 months

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something something.. first kiss with bs!ted under the Saturn V.. something something..

#bs au #aidan rambles.#ted nivison x reader #ted nivison

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whatsamatteratsu · 2 months

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Second half of part 4 for bewitching star au!

He’s got magic!

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me fanart #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me belphegor #belpholo #obey me belpholo #bs au #my art

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mysticalsoot · 11 months

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peer pressure and canned beer

oh? yet, another fic of my self-indulgent boarding school au

A/N; lilly and I came up with this idea when we were sad so it's very angsty and I'm still very set on it so- do not do what wilbur does, maybe don't pick a fight with a drunk guy, and please for the love of god DO NOT KISS YOUR EX ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU'RE IN A RELATIONSHIP okay that's my disclaimer (also maybe communicate w your partner-) ooooh also!! there will be a part 2!! i just have to write it! also a quiet lil ty to everyone that helped me describe canned beer, yall are lifesavers<33

summary; wilbur gets convinced to hang out with some kids on another team. he gets peer pressured a bit, gets drunk, makes a mistake and when he sees you back in the dorm building, he makes a few more

tw// swearing, underage drinking, peer pressure, kissing, undertones of cheating, may is a bitch, some homophobia if you read between the lines

words; 3k

pairings; cc!wilbur x gn!reader

pronouns; none!

masterlist

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Wilbur rarely ever found himself in situations where he would be pressured by his peers into anything. He was a wanderer who enjoyed his quiet time on the edge of situations, a watcher. A hawk--or at least you called him a hawk. He liked to observe, note everyone's behavior. From their body language, to the tone of voice they would use, to how they use words--he noticed it all, and he noted it all as well.

But when it came to people's intentions, he was alot worse at being as aware as he is with other things. It wouldn't be the first time he'd get peer pressured into something without realizing he was being pressured in the first place. He wouldn't be able to tell someone had malicious intent, especially if they held a smile, like most shit people do.

So all in all, when Wilbur told you a group of boys from another team had asked him to hang out with them, you were a smidge worried. Wilbur didn't clarify who these boys were, but he seemed excited when he told you so you smiled and uttered a small "That's awesome, bee!" and told him to go have fun.

This wasn't fun.

Well, it wouldn't be for you.

But for Wilbur? He was being accepted into another group, he was more a part of his peer group, of his school--or this is what he felt. He wasn't sure.

"Come on, William! Loosen up!" One of the boys, by the name of Dan, smirks as he lifts the beer up and towards Wil's direction. He tries to hide the grimace building up on his face as he looks at the beer and decides to take it in his hand. He pops the tab and takes a sip, groaning after he swallows it. Its disgusting, that's what conclusion Wilbur has come to. He can't tell if it tastes like nasty rust water or stale piss. Either way, it's fucking disgusting.

"That's- god, that's gross," Wilbur shakes his head as he grimaces, nearly gagging at the aftertaste and memory of it.

"Cheap bear is gross," Another student in this group speaks, a girl this time. The one Wilbur noticed you always had a distaste for, the one that made you insecure. He feels like he remembers hearing something about this girl, May. Maybe about her liking him? He wasn't sure what but what he was sure of? This girl couldn't like him. Not a chance.

"That's a fucking understatement," Wilbur giggles slightly before hiccuping.

"So, William-"

"You can just call me Wil, that's fine."

"Okay, Wil- how's it in the loser group?" Yet another student, there's only about five besides Wilbur, but too many for Wilbur's tipsy mind to make note of at once. The boy's name he seems to remember being Sammy, which he feels doesn't fit him. Chad or Brian would fit the bill and he has to hold back giggles at that thought.

"Loser group?" Wilbur asks almost incredulously, eyebrows knitted in a confused expression.

"Yeah, what's it called- Team Andromeda?" The one with the teacher's pets, those gay kids- everyone knows Andromeda is where the weirdos get placed, y'know?" Something about Sammy's voice started to grind his gears, but his mind was so muddled he couldn't get very angry, so he sighed.

When Sammy mentioned the "gay" kids, it really rattled him. It made his blood boil, he wanted to yell and punch and scream at this kid. But he had to restrain himself, these other guys weren't so bad.

"I don't think they're that bad, I'm on Andromeda." Wilbur shrugs, looking down at the can he holds, trying to keep himself composed and for the most part--it works.

"Well, you aren't one of them. You don't fit there." May pipes in, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. If it wasn't for how.. icky the conversation made Wilbur felt, the smile would be soft and sweet in his eyes. But his nauseated stomach at the words that cross his ears, skews his view of the word with green tinted glasses.

"Come on, let's not dwell on those kids-- just drink, have fun! Let loose!" Another kid, Dean, speaks up. He feels a lot less.. venomous. He seems kinder and as if he doesn't hold the same hurtful opinions as the others do.

"Why don't we do truth or dare?" Sammy smirks from behind his beer can, eyes glistening with mischief and the mere look makes Wilbur want to projectile vomit, but maybe that's because he's nearly finished off his own beer. Stale piss water.

Wilbur shrugged as various confirmations of agreements are muttered, a few 'sure's and a couple 'alright's were scattered between.

"How about…" Sammy eyes the group and when his attention lands on Wilbur, he smirks, "You, Wil- truth or dare?"

Something sunk into Wilbur's stomach, it felt like all of his internal organs--but it was probably just his heart. This didn't sit right with him, maybe he was being targeted? But his mind was so fogged and swimmy from the alcohol--his beer can was empty and he'd started on a new one. His logic flew out the window long ago.

"Uhm…" Wilbur takes a moment to think or rather, he pauses and looks down, his mind a blank slate without a scratch written. He lifts his head, tilting it to the side for a moment before he slurs confidently, "Dare."

Sammy nods as he eyes Wilbur up and down before he speaks again, much clearer than any words Wilbur could possibly dream to muster, "I dare you…" He trails off as his eyes glance over at May, who was sitting beside Wilbur, "To kiss May."

Wilbur knew it was coming before the words had even been spoken. God, he wished he could erase the entirety of eighth grade from history right about now. He then turned to face May, her cheeks flush pink as she tugs on his sleeve. Everything in his heart was screaming for him to stop, to run away and get as far from this situation that he could. To find you and wrap you in his arms and kiss all over your face and apologize for everything he could've possibly ever done--but his logic is out the window and god-- his body feels like quicksand and he can barely move.

It happens so quickly he doesn't know how it even starts, or who initiated what. But now his lips are on hers and they're kissing and it's much too deep for his liking. He should be kissing you, under lamplight in the dorm, sighs and giggles muffled between lips and mouths. Hands exploring each other innocently and with that sweet spark of love.

Yet instead, here he is with his hand behind May's head, his lips intertwined with hers and her tongue in his mouth. This is horrible, he's decided. He's vowed to never drink again, and never touch lips with anyone but you. But he doesn't stop, he doesn't pull away. He's enticed, he's enraptured by it. Its new, but old. He's kissed her before, not like this of course. But he has kissed May, years ago. This now feels foreign and exciting and new.

That guilt crawls up him, makes him sick and he finally pulls away. His lips curled in a grimace, when May's curl into a smile. His face has a green tint, and hers has a pink sheet of color. They mirror each other in completely opposite ways. She kissed him because she wanted to.

He kissed her because he felt trapped.

It wasn't more than an hour longer that he hung out with them, it got late and there were enough sightings of leadership staff to scare all of them back to the dorms. Which by enough, was two. And they were leaving work. Either way, Wilbur found his way to the side door of the dorm building. The front is always open but Wilbur felt that it was too obvious and he was much too drunk to risk getting caught so he walked over to the side door, hunkered down and texted you.

wilb<3 2:45am // by sidef dooorr, pls get me

you 2:46am // wtf are u doing there??

you 2:46am // be down in a sec, hang tight

He shut his phone off and tucked it in his pocket after smiling at his messages. He leaned against the outer wall and slunk down to the ground. His mind felt like sludge, his body felt like bags of rocks were weighing him down and the way his eyelids kept slipping shut wasn't helping either.

A moment later and his shoulder was being shook by you, eyes shooting open only to glance at your worried expression. Concern plastered on your face and all your eyes saw was a mess of the boy you loved. Face tinted green with splotches of red, eyes glazed over and somehow-- lip gloss on his lips? Its messy and it looks like--

Your heart sinks. He kissed her. Or maybe, she kissed him, he couldn't hurt you like that. Even drunk, he had a heart and logical thinking.

Words weren't spoken as you help him to his feet, practically dragging him to the elevator that no one actually uses but comes in handy now. Your boyfriend's arm slung over your shoulders and his lips messily kissing the side of your hair as his words slur.

"Love you sooo much, baby-" It hurts to hear it, to hear the promises of love as he's so desperately drunk. The elevator is slow so as you hold him beside you, you keep yourself from snapping. Maybe a little prying won't hurt, will it?

"So, what happened?" Your voice is low and soft, a mere whisper as the elevator dings, signifying being on the second floor. Another two to go.

"Mm- Nothin' jus' truth or dare-" He slurs, leaning against you.

"So you didn't kiss May, then?"

Something flips in him, some sort of mild regulator switch flips and he clears his throat. Now leaning away from you as he looks around the elevator, somehow a bit more sober as he speaks, "And if I did?"

"I'd worry about you. I am worried about you."

Ding, third floor. Almost there.

"Its not like it matters, so what if I kissed a girl?" He snips, tone sharp and quick as he fully leans off you, standing on his own almost as if he hadn't a drop of alcohol. You knew that wasn't true, and you hoped he was shit faced drunk when it happened. You knew it happened.

"You'd be cheating if you had. It isn't right, okay?" Your voice is so even, clear and regulated. You keep your composure and his only cracks more.

"Just forget about it, nothing happened. Just leave it the fuck alone." He huffs slightly as the elevator dings and the doors slide open, you both step out and you lead him over to the bathroom to help him clean up just a bit.

It didn't last long when he pulled out of your grasp, "Why don't you just leave me alone and stop prying? Jesus- May was right." He mutters the last part as he stares daggers into you, and you move to walk beside him as he finds his way by your dorm room.

"Can you just tell me what the fuck is wrong?" You're breaking, cracking at the seams more and more as every word of his slips past his lips. Enraging you with every syllable.

And now, with his snarl and angered stare, you felt like an afterthought at that moment, and you wondered if that was his goal. Snapping at you, disregarding your concerns and feelings you were bringing to him. Suits you to argue with a drunk guy.

"You're too fucking obsessed with me anyways-- You're always hanging off me like some desperate lost puppy. I swear- It'd be better if you just left me alone." He rolls his eyes as he stumbles into the dorm, despite his louder than proper reaction, no one stirs or makes any noticeable action.

"I'm obsessed with you and she's not?" Your eyebrows knit in confusion as your lips curl into a frown, frustration boiling up inside you, soon to turn to anger.

He leans against the doorframe, rolling his eyes in a dramatic and drunk way as he huffs, "Yes, yes you are. At least she respects my boundaries," He shrugs as he steps back into the dorm and you feel tears prick at your eyes, frozen in place and boiling with anger, the frustration completely gone. Now you're just hurt.

"She manipulated you and forced you to go out with her and her asshole friends! You want to know something? Those guys you just spent two hours with and had so much fucking fun with? Fucking bullied me since middle school!" You step back, so close to walking away but you need this last word, just something to make him realize, "But you wouldn't know that, would you? You're too in your head to know anything about me!" It seems unrelated, and to him it was. But to you, his words were the last straw. You were done.

"Bullied you? I never took you for the delusional kind."

If it was possible, your jaw would be dislocated and on the floor, but instead you drew your lips into a thin line and let the tears ricochet.

"Fine- Y'know what? Go date May instead- get back with her, see what happens, huh?" Your blood boils as you speak through hot tears and you feel regret surging through you as you shut the door for him, turning on your heel and down the hall. It's a night to sneak into your dad's dorm.

He doesn't wake as you carefully creak the door open, tiptoeing in and finding a spot in the chair in the corner. Not caring or bothering with pillows or blankets, it isn't like you'll be getting much sleep.

Your eyes locked on the walls of the dark room, your mind replaying the last ten minutes like a broken record. You couldn't escape it, the guilt, the fear, the hurt. Your tears were silent but they had no plan of stopping as they fell down your face in clumps of salty water. Your throat felt like it was going to shut, sore and aching as you held back sobs. Your heart felt the same, yet instead of being shut off, it ached like it had been ripped into and at this point, it might as well have been.

Maybe he was right, maybe you were too clingy and 'obsessed' with him. Maybe you did spend too much time around him or too much of your breath speaking about him. All of the maybes ran through your mind like a pack of ants fleeing from the rain. It wouldn't be long until you were full on sobbing and so you did your best to hide your whimpers and breaths of heartache with the sleeves of your sweater--Wilbur's sweater.

You heard a creaking of a bunk, one of the three levels that were in the dorm, you weren't sure which but you still froze in place as a response. You hoped someone was just readjusting but as the lamp beside the bottom bunk clicked on, you realized someone was awake. You knew it was Andy even before you lifted your head to see him. Out of him, your dad and Evan, he was the lightest sleeper. So he'd most likely have been awake since the fight, you knew this but you only hoped that he would turn the other way and ignore it, let you wallow in your heartache.

"Kiddo?" He spoke softly, voice cracking with sleep as he patted the spot beside him on the edge of the bed. You simply eyed his hand, making no move to sit beside him, to get up out of the hole you've fallen into.

He gave you that look, that look only a dad would give you. The one that says "Tell me what's hurting, kid, please?" It's so unspoken, no words being muttered but every meaning and intention still finding it's way into the air and floating around like dust particles--unseen in darkness but when light shines, it's clear as day.

"Wilbur." You mutter it out, voice breaking at the end as another silent sob breaks through and he moves to stand, walking over to you and kneeling in front of you, hands on either side of your legs.

"What did he do?" Andy tilts his head to the side as he looks up at you with worry and concern splattered all over his face.

"He got drunk with those- with May and her friends," You paused as you sucked in a shallow breath, doing your best to calm yourself.

"And?" He prys, but you don't mind. He's just trying to scrape at the layers you've wrapped around your heart and mind, the layers that hide the truth beneath. He's doing a damn good job too.

"He yelled at me, I know he kissed May and- he's so mad at me, Andy. So mad." You know you sound like a broken child, a kid left behind on the playground. You can't help it, it's how you feel. You love Wilbur, you loved him. You gave him your heart and he discarded it in a ditch.

"I heard- I'll set up the trundle, you sleep in my bed, okay? Tomorrow is Saturday so I want you to take some breaths-" He starts instructing you to breathe in deeply and to let it out. He does this with you for a few more seconds until all the tears you have left have dried and you feel a tingling feeling of peace. As much as you can muster. And he smiles, patting your knee and turning around to do as he said he would, setting up the trundle, and then he ushers you over and you settle into the bottom bunk.

"We'll deal with this tomorrow, okay? We'll talk with your dad and Evan, and Cati too. Just rest now, kiddo." He smiles softly before settling into the trundle below and you let your eyes slip shut, welcoming sleep with open arms.

Your last thought before you drifted off, was hope you didn’t have to see Wilbur the next day.

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