Love is Dead ||| (Wilbur Soot x reader)

I Know This Place.

"something, something did. it always does," he replied nonchalantly.

"where are you from?"

he tilted his head slightly, like a puppy, "where i'm from? i live here."

panic.

"i kinda bought this place about a year or so ago," i explained myself, wondering why he would say that. was there some kind of space in this house i've never encountered in which he lives in?

"last summer there was no one, so i went to sleep," sleep, he mentioned sleeping, but where?

"last summer i spent time with my family." 

"family? i have one, i'm sure. why aren't you with yours this year?"

a groan unintentionally left my mouth as i leaned on the sofa, thinking about school, "i have finals after this break is over, so i have to study." i emphasized the word study since, we all know i'm just gonna eat, sleep and pity myself everyday.

he looked behind me and chuckled, "hey, is that a tissue roll on the floor?"

of course, i forgot about that. i should've picked it up before caring about the wide open door, it would be less embarrassing. oh god, he's gonna think i'm a messy person. is the living room messy? i haven't touch anything except things in the bedroom and bathroom, maybe the kitchen as well, i don't remember. did i even eat this morning? oh yeah, paper roll.

i stopped my train of thought, "i'll pick that up, wait.. here?" i then walk off smiling awkwardly and grabbed the roll, taking it upstairs. continuing thought, choo choo.

how long was i thinking? was i just staring into nothing while he waits for a response? haha, i'm a bad host-- owner-- whatever. how did the tissue paper, roll, toilet paper, i don't know, even got out of the store room? wait, is the one in the bathroom finished or..?

i opened the door to the bathroom and saw a used up tissue roll. i changed or 'refilled', throwing away the stick, the roll, empty one, into the bin.

i closed the bathroom door and caught something hanging by the ceiling at the corner of my eye. it was the attic door, never bothered to go up there, i prefer not to find any spider or animal living in there, though it could be a great adventure, maybe there would be a ghost or something, who knows?

a faint strumming of a tune on a guitar was playing.

oh my god, i have a guest.

i rushed downstairs, slowing down halfway to keep my composure and hope he didn't hear my frantic footsteps against the wooden floor.

will had his guitar out, plucking a few tunes here and there before he saw me and smiled. i went over to my sofa and sat down, watching.

"can you play a guitar? or any instruments?" he asked, his eyes focused onto the strings, his fingers moving by instinct, or so it seemed like it.

"well, i can play mary had a little lamb on a recorder, does that count?" i thought about my recorder that laid on my desk, i haven't played it for so long, i never had the motivation to even learn more songs.

"it does. that's great," he smiled again, how do you keep smiling, sir?

silence.

"so, where exactly do you live?" i returned to the question we discussed before, hoping to get a proper answer.

"nowhere."

confusion. 

"is it.. okay.. if i live here?" he asked, shame visible on his face.

am i seriously gonna invite someone who i just met today to live with me as a roommate and he doesn't seem to have any other belongings except a guitar and the clothing he's currently wearing? yes, my kindness got to me. or empathy, can't really tell the difference at this point. is it sympathy?

"i have a spare room," i immediately stood up, surprised how quick that was before leading him up to there, he better be following, i could barely hear footsteps.