(Trigger warnings: mentions of previous death and grief.)
It was late in the evening, nearing 12pm at least, when Wilbur finally gathered the guts to knock at the door. He'd be lying to himself if he said he hadn't been pacing his own bedroom for the last twenty minutes, practiced conversations hushed in a quiet breath. Realistically, he knows that nothing would go terribly wrong, but the nerves still spiked within him anyway.
'Come in!' Tommy called out, voice ever so slightly slurred from tiredness. If he hadn't known Tommy, he would have assumed the teenager would be passed out by now, exhaustion consuming the usual capability to stay up until the sun could rise again. However, he did know Tommy, and that was the only reason he wasn't shitting himself at the idea of optionally having this conversation.
'Hey,' he whispered, pushing open the door completely and leaning against the frame. Wilbur frowned when he noticed the lumps of paper on his bed, Tommy's hands flicking mindlessly through them. 'Tommy, why are you working this late? It's past 12...'
'Meh.' The teenager struggled without so much as a glance upwards. 'You work much later than I do, anyway.'
'No-'
'You do.' Tommy spoke smugly. Little fucker- 'I know you do.'
'I am not a good example.' Wilbur eventually settled on, taking steps closer and roughly collecting a pile.
Unceremoniously, he plonked the papers down on his desk, lingering around it for a tad too long. Wilbur attempted to gather his thoughts, unsure of the best way to start the conversation. Tommy had every right to be angry, he'd hidden something from him that caused his brother to get hurt. Yet, his brother seemed ecstatic at the mention of his soulmate, and Wilbur couldn't remember seeing any emotion often than elation.
'You know, at first I was a little hurt.' Tommy began, clearly catching onto Wilbur's hesitation. He turned around at the teenagers words, placing just enough emotion in his expression for it to not seem suspicious. 'I couldn't understand what or why you'd hide something from me, especially when it involved guards hanging around our house.'
Tommy stopped, lifting his head from staring at his cushion and glancing at Wilbur. He had been expecting a look of disappointment, anger, frustration, anything but amusement and a sense of relief.
'I honestly don't know how I didn't notice them.' The teenager continued with a laugh, pointing unconsciously to the closed curtains. 'Guess that's what I get for not opening my curtains.'
'I'm sorry, Toms.' Wilbur started, taking a seat on the bed. 'I should have let you know what was happening. I just-'
'- wanted the best for me, I know.' A sigh emitted from the teenager as he leaned further against the bed's headboard. 'I understand, doesn't mean I like it though.'
'I don't regret it.' He said suddenly, catching Tommy off guard. 'Although it wasn't the best decision this time round, I'll always try my best to do what I can for you. No matter what.'
'I don't want that though.' Tommy said instantly, eyes looking deep into his. 'I'm not asking you to dismiss those protective instincts of yours, but please, don't do anything just because of me. Promise me that?'
'I can't, Tommy,' he watched the teenager deflate, but it wasn't a surprise for either of them. 'I love you too much for that.'
'I know you do, fucking sentimental bastard.'
Wilbur chuckled, allowing the room to fade into a comfortable silence. He knew that not everything had gone said that evening, but he wasn't sure if that was a bad thing. Sometimes, he realised, it isn't necessary to vocalise everything, and Wilbur found himself heading for the door.
'I can promise you something Tommy.' He said, pausing at the door and smiling when the teenager's attention was instantly captivated.
'What?'
'I promise that I won't hide anything that important from you.' The teenagers eyebrows rose, revealing surprise yet relief.
'Why?' Tommy asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes comedically. 'We both know that you're too stubborn to change your mind.'
'That's true,' Wilbur agreed, Phil's earlier phrase about that lingering on his mind. 'But you deserve to know. If you still want to go ahead with this-'
'I do.'
'- then you should know what's happening.' Wilbur finished, studying the teenagers facial expressions again.
'Thank you, Will.' Tommy whispered, light evident in his eyes. 'I'm glad Techno's your soulmate.'
'Yeah?'
'Hmm, Phil and Techno aren't assholes.' Wilbur took this as a rather good sign. 'I'm glad to see more of them.'
Well, that he wasn't expecting. Tommy wasn't one to express affection for others easily, tending to keep it to himself. Wilbur refused to let the teasing opportunity go to waste, not matter how much relief it gave him.
'Aww! Is someone going soft?'
'Shut the fuck up bitch!'
--
The stars were bright that evening.
Wilbur glanced at them as he walked, instantly looking for the brightest star that he could see. His attention spam was rather limited, however, and he'd quickly get distracted by the slightest crunch of guards behind him. Despite their presence, the night was at peace, and even the slight shiver of his hands wouldn't make him regret the decision to come here.
The graveyard was dimly lit, scattered yellow lamps straining under that pressure. Shadows suffocated the area, hoovering and flickering abruptly with the wind. The graves themselves were stubby, sticking out meaningfully beside the trampled path that weaved between them. He'd walked that path enough times to know each nook and cranny, watching the irregularity of it form had served reality of how much time had passed.
Wind brushed his hair as he stood still, staring at the words carved into the gravestone. The roses remained ahead of it; shrivelling and curling in on themselves like they were trying to hide from the bite of frost. The flowers were dying, and he didn't even bring anything to replace them with.
Wilbur could hear the hushed whispers behind him, able to imagine the bundle of guards that had to endure the sinister setting so late into the evening. A sensation akin to guilt began to build up in him as he looked over his shoulder, noticing the sliver of concern in their expressions. They all froze like deer in headlights, only one guard resuming movement to whisper something to the others. Wilbur didn't question anything when he noticed one of them leave, silently glad that one less would have to endure the English weather.
Turning his back to them, he fell to his knees onto the ground. The mud squelched loudly against his trousers; coating the black fabric in a way that would usually make him cringe. His mother would have scowled at him, lecturing him about the time clothes take to wash and dry before effortlessly removing the stains.
'I-' Wilbur tried to start, the words catching in his throat. 'This is the last time I'll come and see you.' He whispered, hoping that his voice wouldn't be heard in the silence of the night. 'I'm moving away, Mum and Dad. With Tommy.' Wilbur continued, a stray tear falling softly down his cheek. 'I found my soulmate, just as you always wanted for me. His name's Techno, him and Phil are literal Kings.' That brought a chuckle from him; he wondered when he'd get used to saying that.
'I think you would have loved them both, just as you would have loved Tommy. They're better than I deserve. I wish you could've met them.' He had no doubt that his parents would have jumped at the opportunity.
'I'm happy, Mum and Dad, I'm really happy. I- I love you.' His voice cracked as his throat contracted, any other words he had suffocated by a realisation. They couldn't hear him – they'd never know happy he was. Wilbur stared at their names in front of him, desensitised to the tears that had started streaming down.
The minutes blurred as he starred at the moon, the light illuminating against his skin and scarring his vision whenever he'd blink tears away. The wind ruffled his hair ever now and again, like a parent trying to sooth their crying child, and occasionally he'd smile at the sensation. The hair stood up on his skin would vibrate when he felt it; serving a reminder of the goosebumps present there.
Even in his distracted state, his brain was registering the mumbles from behind him, gradually growing in concern and volume as the seconds danced by. Light shivers still racked through his body, so Wilbur thought there was little concern to be had, but that didn't stop a feeling of anticipation from crawling around in his stomach.
The sound of leaves crunching picked up (far louder than the sound of guards shuffling about - clearly, they were too restless to enjoy the peaceful night), and the whispers silenced for a minute. Wilbur had barely zoned out for a second before he felt a presence behind him, a slight shadow displayed on the ground in front of him.
'Phil.' He greeted, not bothering to look up at the King. 'It's quite a nice night tonight, wouldn't you agree? The stars are especially bright tonight...'
'Will-'
'My Mother used to tell me that the brightest star in the sky was where heaven was, and people would watch down on you.' He started, unsure of why he was speaking. He wondered if Phil actually cared. 'I guess that's why so many people are drawn to the stars; wanting to believe there is something magical there.'
Wilbur paused, unsure if he wanted to continue the one-sided conversation and risk going too far. He could tell Phil was partially interested, the eyes trained on him was a clear giveaway, yet nothing was said from the King.
'My parents told me a similar story, when my grandparents died.' Phil spoke up after a few minutes (which Wilbur spent busily – internal debate and all that.) 'There's something quite entrancing about it; especially to a child.'
'Yeah.' He laughed watery, staring back at the words embedded in the grave. Without much thought, he uttered: 'Phil?'
Said man gave a noise of acknowledgement.
'Did you ever believe it?'
The eldest King had no response, only filling the silence a minute or so later with the sound of fabric rustling. Soon enough, Wilbur felt something draping over his shoulder, the weight of it shifting through the haziness that'd come about. The inside of it was soft, a clear give away that it wasn't his, yet the temptation to wrap it closer was still there.
'Leave it.' Phil spoke at last, barely at a whisper, and Wilbur halted his movement at it. A hand rested on his shoulder, adding warmth through the thick fabric that he secretly appreciated.
'You'll freeze-' Wilbur tried to argue, already feeling bad for dragging the King outside at such a godly hour, but was quickly interrupted.
'It's a spare,' Phil insisted, tucking the long length coat further around him. 'You're already shivering, however. I'd offer my hat, but I doubt you'd accept.'
'I wouldn't,' He agreed, taking the silent compromise instantly.
A couple seconds passed before Wilbur glanced up at the King, his eyes glossed over as he identified features. Phil had bags under his eyes, skin fading pink from the shock of the cold. He looked tired, yet not in the way you would be if you'd just woken up. Despite this, he was watching Wilbur was a soft look, a mixture of emotions pooling from his eyes without any visible effort.
'You should go to sleep,' he eventually decided on, clambering to his feet to stand beside the King.
'Who says I wasn't?'
'Me.' Wilbur spoke bluntly, a look of surprise evolving on the King's face. 'What were you working on so late anyway?'
'Paperwork.' Phil admitted, slouching his features as if to reveal his exhaustion. Wilbur was glad; they both knew there wasn't any point in pretending, they were both awake at this time anyway. 'One of the guards came to get me, said you were staring at the stars out in the cold without a coat.'
'Hmm.' He sighed, following Phil's gaze to the sky. 'Didn't mean you had to come.'
'No,' The eldest King said, making eye contact with him. 'But I wanted to.'
'Bet you thought that before you realised how damn cold it was.'
Phil scoffed at his comment, his eyes shining regardless at the lightened mood. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed a couple guards watching him, evicting a small smirk of amusement when they'd noticed he was aware.
The sun was beginning to poke up from the horizon, small hints of orange brightening the night sky just enough to be noticeable. Wilbur briefly considered staying to watch the sunset, always silently admiring the way the colours merged together and streaked elegantly, before catching Phil stifle a yawn in his sleeve. The King wasn't leaving until he was, and it didn't take a genius to figure that out. Besides, Tommy would be expecting him back soon.
'Right,' he spoke loudly, enabling the guards to hear him speak. It was surprising how quickly that captured their attention, and soon several more appeared from seemingly nowhere. 'I think it's time we head back. You know how it is when old men don't get their required sleep, they get more cranky than usual.'
'Alright mate- Wait, why are you looking at me?'
Wilbur took that moment to begin walking, leaving Phil spluttering with excuses and retaliations that provoked even more laughter. One of the guards gave silent respect when he reached them, clearly amused with the whole situation, before trotting after Phil in the opposite direction.
With a final look back at the graveyard, Wilbur made his own way home, waving to the King when he suspiciously turned around. He made conversation with a couple guards as he walked back, enjoying their company more and more after discovering their personalities. Only when they'd stepped far enough away did Wilbur realise the weight lifted off his shoulder, his breathing notable easier than usual. He'd had many regrets in life, and knew there was many more to come, yet it was a certainty that leaving Ackerly wouldn't be one of them.
His parents would be happy for him; they would want this for him, and that settled his thoughts notably.