Warm hoodies on cold nights (and all the stars in your eyes)

Chapter 10

It's a week til Christmas, and Wilbur has no idea what to get Schlatt. Or at least, they've never made a monumental effort to give each other gifts, but he feels like he should this year, if only because he guesses they've both been in pretty difficult spots.

He has a pretty good idea of what he wants to get him, and he's saved enough from his job to be able to get it himself, which pleases him to no end. He has to get fast delivery because he's left it maybe a little too long – but at least it's the holidays now, and that means he gets to work at the shop, and Schlatt gets to help out there in between shifts.

"Bye, dad," Wilbur calls happily, heading outside, only to find that it's snowing, and Tommy is busy making snow angels in the garden. Or maybe he's just trying to escape Techno, who's kneeling on his back looking a little bored.

"See ya," he yells over. "I'm going to work!"

"Have fun," Techno waves, and Tommy thumps at the ground, which is probably a cry for help but Wilbur chooses to interpret it as more of a goodbye, Wilby dearest, have fun at work!

Schlatt's waiting for him; his shift doesn't start until ten, so they have an hour to hang out. He's stomping in the snow with two steaming cups of coffee and a huge scarf.

"S'up, bitch?" Wilbur greets him, taking the coffee he's offered.

"It's too fucking cold," Schlatt groans. "And apparently there's supposed to be a fuck ton more snow."

"Woo! Snow!" Wilbur grins, bouncing up and down on his toes. "I fucking love the snow, man, look at this shit."

"Cold," Schlatt says stubbornly. "Hurry up and finish the coffee, I wanna go inside."

"Fine, fine," Wilbur sighs, rolling his eyes, and drains the rest of his coffee, chucking the empty cup in a bin. "Marge wanted me to sort through a new shipment of vynils today. Helpin' out?"

"Yeah, yeah," Schlatt nods, eagerly edging into the shop. "Marge!" he shouts, grinning, and waves at her as she pokes her head down the stairs. "I'm helpin' out for an hour before my shift!"

"Take some sweets if you want," she shouts back. "Wilbur, dear, can you sort those vynils?"

"On it," Wilbur shouts up, heading through to the back room and finding the box of vynils that had been half unpacked. "Yeah," he says to Schlatt. "They didn't even send them in alphabetical order."

"Bitches," Schlatt says enthusiastically, and grabs a couple of the vynils. "Queen, Arctic Monkeys, Beethoven," he reads out loud. "Nice mix. Oh – Wil, my parents are probably going on holiday for Christmas, so we can hang out more for a couple weeks."

"Really?" Wilbur asks, elated. "That's fucking awesome. Wanna go with me to my server for a day? When are they leaving?"

"Hell yeah, I'd love to – I don't know, whenever they feel like it, I guess. Probably today or tomorrow. They told me they were thinking about it this morning."

"Sweet! Oh, yeah," Wilbur says suddenly, remembering something. "I saw yesterday – that nice guitar, y'know, the dark one? I saw it the first time I was here. Well, it must've been sold."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm." Wilbur isn't sure why he noticed. He isn't sure why he felt a pang of regret when he saw the gap on the shelf where it had sat, either. It's not like he's made music in months anyways.

"Why, were you thinking about buying it?"

"No, actually," Wilbur shrugs. "Maybe I would've eventually. Dunno. Doesn't matter anyways. Oh, here's another Queen record, I'll sort the pile here and you carry them over and put them in the right spot?"