Snippets

all the time in the world- part 3

TW: mentions of death
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A door opens, making Wilbur's eyes snap open and his heart jump into his chest. A man he doesn't know enters the sitting room, both Tommy and Phil in tow. Wilbur realizes the clothes he's wearing probably belong to the man since he's almost the same size as Wilbur, aside from a painfully obvious height difference.

Whereas Wilbur stands a few inches taller than Phil and Tommy, the man towers over them; he's easily half a foot taller than Wilbur. He has several scars, including a prominent one across his nose and another across his cheek.

His most striking feature isn't his height or his scars, however.

It's his bright, pink hair.

Even braided, the man's hair comes down past his waist. The braid itself is a masterpiece: five strands instead of three and gold beads weaved in whenever possible.

"This is my brother, Techno. You made me lose a bet to him," Tommy explains. His words are quick and excited, and he pulls Techno further into the room, as if the man is an object to be shown off in a kindergartners' show-and-tell.

"I'm... sorry?"

"Techno, this is Wilbur. Wilbur, this is my eldest son, Technoblade," Phil introduces them much more formally than Tommy's attempt. Techno examines Wilbur, like he's sizing him up. Wilbur can't help the way his heart pounds at Techno's unreadable expression. There's an almost predatory look in his eyes, and Wilbur knows Techno could probably kill him very easily if he wanted to.

Finally, Techno says, "Nice to meet you, Wilbur. I suppose I should thank you for helping me win the bet." Tommy delivers a swift elbow to Techno's side, whining about both having to do his chores for a month and to give him his allowance for two weeks. Techno only laughs, unwavered by the attack.

Wilbur chuckles, too, albeit a bit forced. He can't help but feel like he was just pardoned from being executed.

"What exactly was this bet?" Wilbur finally asks once the laughter has died down.

"We bet on whether you were alive or not," Tommy explains bluntly. He says it so nonchalantly, like it's the most normal thing in the world to do, that Wilbur bursts into laughter all over again.

"Wait- so-" Another fit of laughter interrupts Wilbur's words- "You thought that I was dead, and instead of actually checking to see if I'm okay, you bet on whether or not I was alive?"

Tommy nods in affirmation.

Wilbur looks to Techno for confirmation, and the man shrugs, also not seeing anything wrong with the logistics of their bet.

Phil sighs exasperatedly. "They make bets all the time over absolutely anything just to get out of doing chores or to get the other's allowances. One time, Tommy bet Techno he could eat more raspberries than him, and they spent the whole afternoon eating berries and closely keeping count of each others' amounts. It ended with neither of them winning because they both got sick."

Tommy and Techno aren't the least bit ashamed of their behavior.

"I won a bet on being able to catch a goose faster than Techno once," Tommy adds casually.

"And then your entire left arm had to be sutured," Techno shoots back. He yanks the boy's sleeve up to expose the scars left on his arm from the incident.

"Yet I still won."

Phil finally cuts them off. He turns to Wilbur and says, "They do anything for money." He rubs his forehead and then his eyes, like he's tired of Techno and Tommy's antics. As if to prove his point, Phil pulls a coin from his pocket and tosses it out the window, prompting his two sons to race each other outside to find the coin. "Now that they are gone, what would you like for dinner?"

Wilbur only shrugs unhelpfully. He doesn't even know what kinds of foods Phil has.

"So much like my sons," Phil groans. "They never know what they want to eat, but they always whine about when the next meal is." Something in Wilbur's chest swells at being compared to Phil's sons. He tries to keep a straight face, but his lips quirk upwards without his permission. "Niki will prepare soup then. You will need something lighter for your stomach anyways to stop your condition from worsening. How do you feel now?"

"I'm better." He doesn't feel as shaky or nauseous anymore. All that's left of his sickness is a slight dizziness if he moves too quickly. To show he's feeling better, he pushes to his feet and crosses the room to the piano. He collapses onto the piano seat a little harder than he should, but he manages to stay sitting upright to play.

Phil watches, the excitement returning to his gaze.

Wilbur begins playing. It's a simple piece, one of few he can actually remember, yet Phil doesn't mind. The man sinks into one of the chairs next to the piano, closes his eyes, and lets the music wash over him.

When Wilbur finishes playing, Phil finally opens his eyes. "Thank you," he whispers, smiling widely.

Wilbur continues playing, now improvising and making up melodies as he goes. Phil seems to enjoy these even more than the ones he has memorized.

"Why don't you have any sheet music?" he eventually asks as he plays.

"I cannot play, and my boys refuse to learn," Phil responds, his words just loud enough to be heard above the music but quiet enough to not drown it out. "If you stay, I will have Techno or Tommy take the carriage to town for some."

Wilbur's fingers pause on the keys. Then, hesitantly, he ventures, "If I stay?"

"You are a traveling musician, are you not? Traveling means you either do not have a home, or, based on your outfit, you are miles away from it. I have a spare bedroom if you want it; you are welcome to stay with us for as long as you would like."

"I... I don't have anything to pay you with," Wilbur responds, something in his heart sinking at the reminder.

Phil doesn't even have to think before answering, "Music. You will pay me with music."

Wilbur wants to reject the idea; music is nothing compared to the cost of housing, food, and clothing. But he has nowhere else to go, and he doubts anyone else will let him stay practically for free. He nods, not wanting to voice his agreement because it feels too embarrassing to say out loud, and continues to play.

Eventually, Techno struts back in, a golden coin between his fingers and an angry Tommy on his trail.

Wilbur has to hold back a laugh when he notices the scratch marks on Techno's arms that can only be from Tommy's fingernails. Phil only rolls his eyes fondly.

Tommy throws himself onto the couch, shooting a dirty look Techno's way and whining about how he would've gotten the coin had Techno not taken it from him. Techno argues back about Tommy having the clear advantage because he's shorter and could see the coin on the ground more easily.

Wilbur laughs along, his fingers still dancing over the keys of the piano, adding background music to the conversation and making it feel like a scene out of a movie. He finds himself wanting to join in, but he has nothing to say.
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(1233 words)
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A/N: I'm about to run out of pre-written parts for this story; I hope my writer's block ends soon :/ As always, thanks for reading! Til we meet again <3