KEEP A PLACE FOR ME // Wilbur Soot X Reader

25

You turned your computer on and sat down, waiting as the screen slowly turned on. The deadline for everything was today, and you had a lot of work to get done. 

Thank goodness you could count on a quiet workspace now.

It had kept you up a little last night. There was just something about knowing that there wouldn't be any noise when you came into the office today, that made the already cold place seem frigid. The heaping piles of last minute additions and other work you would have to do didn't help either, and you knew that you were going to have a hard time focusing anyway. Still, it was deadline day, and it would just have to be done. 

On top of all that, Jazzy had been acting strange this morning, and she had left for school earlier than usual. You thought you might have upset her, but Maddy assured you that you'd done nothing wrong. She wouldn't tell you what Jazzy was up to though. 

It also didn't help that you had narrowly forced yourself not to stop at Oscar's office this morning to ask if he knew where Wilbur had gone. You didn't need to torture yourself like that - it was better that you didn't know, so you wouldn't go looking for him when you should be working. He probably wouldn't want to see you anyway - you had been passing friends at best, only brought together by proximity. 

You had more important things to worry about anyway, like the articles that still needed serious touching up and the limited hours you had to work on it. 

You opened the first one and began to scan over the words, testing how everything sounded. You wanted these to be perfect - if they were good enough, maybe you could get a steady job with this magazine instead of this freelance gig work. 

Not long into your reading though, your mind started to drift, going back to every moment that you had been a little snarky with Wilbur, or told him off for being loud, or banged on the wall until he stopped screaming. Of course, you were hitting yourself for it now - if you had just been a little nicer, maybe-

Maybe what? You being nice wouldn't have changed anything - he was still loud, and you were not that only one who was trying to work within five feet of his office. Oscar would have evicted him anyway, and there was nothing you could have done about it. 

You refocused on the writing in front of you, changing the wording of a sentence to make more sense and be more coherent with the rest of the article. Now was not the time to be sad about Wilbur - you should have been thinking more about the deadline in front of you. 

The thought of what could have been danced in the corners of your mind though - little flashes of thought. The curl that stuck out from underneath his beanie. The glint of the stage lights in his glasses. The way he had to physically turn away from something if he was laughing too hard. How he had always had a smile in the corner of his lips. The way his fingers had skipped over guitar strings so nimbly, with practiced ease. The deep soulfulness in his eyes. 

You had had so many opportunities to ask him for his number. But you hadn't, because you were an idiot with your head buried in sheets of printer paper and ink cartridges. 

You should have listened to Jazzy when she had told you this was an opportunity. After all, she had only wanted you to be happy... and Wilbur had made you happy. You had looked forward to seeing him when you could, and even though you had gotten off on the wrong foot, you had come around in the end. 

A little too late, but that was beside the point.

You tapped at your keyboard, rearranging a paragraph. But no, that didn't quite fit either... you tried again, only to go back to the way you'd had it originally. 

This was stupid. What were you even doing? Writing something that no one was even going to read, and for what? Extra pay and the chance at a full time position possibly. This magazine probably didn't even know your name. 

You ran a hand down your face, closing your eyes for a moment. 

You needed a cup of tea, or something. This bad mood was not helping you get things done, and you really needed to. You soothed your temples, replacing all thoughts of Wilbur with thoughts of the deadline. Deadline, deadline, deadline-

His laugh echoed through your mind. The way the corner's of his eyes would crinkle when he smiled really wide. How he would absentmindedly fluff his hair when he was just sitting around. The teasing lilt to his voice when he was making a joke. The raw emotion that replaced it when he was singing. 

Nope, deadline. There was a deadline, there was-

There was Wilbur, seeing you from the stage in the front row. The way the light had painted his face so that you could see the moment his eyes caught onto yours, and the slight hitch in his speech. The way he'd had to duck his head away for a moment, just to smile. You had seen it anyway, and you had smiled one of your own. 

Maybe Jazzy had been onto something when she had said that the feelings flowed both ways. 

But it was too late now. He was gone, and you didn't know where. 

Your computer pinged, reminding you that you were supposed to be working. You mind unhelpfully fed you an image of Wilbur's fingers dancing over the keyboard as he manned his streams. 

You sighed, resting your forehead on the keyboard for a moment. It was fine. It was fine, you could work tonight too, if you didn't finish it all. 

You had a feeling you weren't going to finish at all.