𝗦𝘁𝗮𝘆 𝗛𝗲𝗿𝗲| Wilbur Soot x Reader ✔︎

x

"You aren't actually gonna do it, are you?" Lea sounded shocked and hesitant that I even mumbled a breath about ripping my marking off.

And I can understand that, because she knew how crazy I was about finding my soulmate and getting my mark.

It was like a right of personal passage to me.

I look around the empty bedroom and at walls covered in photos from my early days, glancing down at the prominent writing on my thigh. "I mean no— of course not," I sigh. "I'd never be able to."

There's a small patch of silence, and I can tell Lea is nodding to herself, even though I can't see her doing so.

A small breath is exhaled from the woman's lips. "That's a relief... I almost thought I didn't recognize my own friend for a second."

My laughter is audible as I hear some stomach grumbles; I'd actually been going to grab some food when Lea called to talk about another case popping up in the news.

How can these people rip their own skin off? I'll never understand, not even now, when I thought I could understand.

I need to get away from this conversation.

"I'm gonna get going, see you later, 'kay?"

She's quite for a second before there's a sudden familiar sound of realization. "Huh?! Oh, yeah! Sorry, I was nodding."

With another small chuckle, I hang up, laying back on the soft bed with a huff. "I don't like him..."

Just by mentioning the pronoun him, my mind was already filled with images of Wilbur doing dumb everyday things.

Like drinking, walking, talking... getting out of the shower with wet shaggy hair that he shook around in order to fling water at me just cause I told him not to do it.

Standing up, I leave my phone on the bed and walk back out to distract myself, Wilbur nowhere in sight.

I almost call out for him, but shut my mouth in the end. He isn't my problem, he never has been and never will be... dammit.

"Wilbur?"

"Hm? You miss me that much, Buttercup?"

His all-knowing grin appears, rounding the corner from the bathroom door; upon sighting, I immediately go from worried to annoyed, e/c eyes rolling full three-sixty.

"No, I need you to do the laundry, since I offered to take you shopping tomorrow in exchange for some house duty."

Wilbur seems to frown a small bit, but he's quick to shrug it off, heading towards the laundry room before suddenly stopping, turning to look back at me with slight hesitation.

"Hey, Sweet-Pea?"

With a grumble at the nickname, I face him, hand on hip. "What is it now?"

"Do you hate me?"

My eyes widen a bit at the sudden question, as if what he was asking was purely idiotic. "What? Of course I do, how could I not?"

I laugh a bit at our running joke of hatred, even though if I truly hated him this much, he wouldn't be in my apartment going to do laundry; but instead of laughing with me, Wilbur frowns deep.

"Why?"

"Why? I don't know, maybe it's the fact you blew up an entire nation, perhaps?"

"Well you called me a dick and an asshole, and a moron, a loser, a dimwit—"

I can't wrap my head around this man.

Just when I think I've got something figured out, the picture pieces falling into place, a new piece appears that doesn't match the photo in my mind.

"Wilbur, go do the laundry," I cut him off and usher his lengthy body away, grabbing stuff to make lunch for the both of us as he walks off somberly. "Of course I don't hate you, idiot."

My last sentence is merely a whisper, but I'm almost sure he heard it, because his once sunken form seems to grow a little taller, like a dying plant that finally got some water.

Trying to play it off, he just goes off to do what was asked of him, but I can see it— the way he smiled with genuine emotion —rather than the blank and absent grin he usually held so confidently.

"What a moron."

☁︎︎

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Yeah this is basically just them getting closer with no actual plot... that's my life.