The Baker's Sons

Bricks and Thunder (3)

Also yes Wilbur is like 12 in this
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It was a couple minutes before Wilbur could push himself to his feet. He had wandered away from his house, half aware of his body leading him around the town. As he walked he noticed the concerned or pitiful glances shot his way. Although they angered him, they were expected. After all, he was a child carrying around a shattered guitar. But they still made him want to fight the owner of every look.

He kept his head down as he continued to walk, not knowing where he was headed. Eventually he ended up outside of what Wilbur assumed was a book store. He let himself lean against the wall of it, taking a small break and think about what to do next.

Not knowing what he should do, Wilbur walked into the bookstore. A wave of heat hit him like a brick. It was a difference from the bitter cold of outside. He got a weird look from the lady at the front desk as he went further inside. He planned on getting lost in there for awhile, get a break from reality.

He headed to one of the tall shelves and picked up an old book about a boy getting trapped in a large area with strangers where they were forced to survive. Wilbur headed back into the main area, sitting at one of the tables.

Wilbur got lost in the book for what felt like hours, getting almost halfway through it. That was before his mind started to wander. One of the characters had yelled some all too familiar things at the main character, causing Wilbur's mind to go to his home. His father to be more exact. A memory resurfaced of a particularly bad night. His father had stormed into his room screaming at him for not taking care of the house.

Wilbur felt his breathing become short ragged breaths. His eyes burned. Something about the memory triggered something deep inside of him to panic. He needed to throw up. He shakily closed the book and gripped at his hair.

"Are you good?" A voice broke into his thoughts. It was low and monotonous, carrying almost no emotion. Wilbur looked up to see a boy sitting at a table nearby. He had pink hair, sitting about shoulder length. His eyes appeared to be a red color and he was dressed in a neat outfit. It wasn't anything fancy but it was different from a lot of the townsfolk's clothing. Interesting. The boy was staring at him expectantly.

"Y-yeah." Wilbur stammered out, taking his hand away from his hair. The boy nodded and returned to his book. That was weird. Wilbur shrugged it off and went back to his own book, trying to force his eyes to focus on the words this time.

Soon enough he felt his breathing start up again and a book was slammed closed. The boy turned to him again, looking mildly annoyed, but still curious.

"You keep breathing loud." He said, "And you look horrible."

"Geez thanks." Wilbur huffed, standing up. The boy watched him, looking him down as if he was scanning every detail.

"What happened to you?" Wilbur groaned at the question. The guy clearly seemed uninterested, why wasn't he leaving Wilbur alone?

"So? You gonna say somethin?" He glared at the boy.  Now he was just being pushy. As he glared he noticed something else on the boys blank features. What was it? Wonder? Concern? Maybe judgement. He couldn't place it exactly. God was the guy hard to read.

"None of your business." Wilbur said harshly, stomping away and out of the building. He walked back into town, angry. He didn't know why. Something about that pink haired boy had made him angry. Maybe he was just stressed.

Wilbur sighed and tried to calm down. As he reached to rub his face he noticed the book still in his hand. Shit he forgot to return it before he stormed out. He would have to go back another day.