Sleepy Bois Inc. Angst Oneshots

Wings

TW: attempted suicide, depressive feelings, longing and bitterness
AN: hi :D
not gonna lie, this was gonna be a lot sadder.
age-wise, imagine Wil at about ten years old in the first half and about twenty-ish in the second
~*~
Wilbur had always wanted wings. He found himself staring at Phil's with longing more and more often, and he imagined the feeling of wind beneath his very own pair of wings. He could almost feel the breeze flowing through his imaginary feathers.

When he played in the flower field by his home, he liked to run with his arms outstretched as if they were his wings. He'd flap them and pretend he was taking off as the sun shone down on him and birds chirped around him. If he closed his eyes, he could almost believe he was flying with the birds.

"What does flying feel like, Dad?" he asked Phil for the millionth time as Phil tucked him in that night.

"It feels..." Wilbur sat up, staring excitedly at his father with his big brown eyes. Phil laughed a little as he tried to find the words. "Freeing," he said at last, staring out Wil's windows at the night sky. "Maybe I can take you flying some day."

"Please, Dad, can we go tomorrow?" Wil asked, making puppy dog eyes towards the older man. He reached out and stroked one of Phil's huge, black wings. Phil gave him a feather, and he gently curled his hand around it, careful not to crush it. His eyes lit up with wonder.

"Sure." Phil ruffled his curly, brown hair and smiled. "For now, it's time for bed." Phil pulled the blanket up to his chin and kissed him on the forehead. "Goodnight, Wilby. Love you."

"Love you, too, Dad," Wil said before yawning. He closed his eyes and began to think of flying with his dad until he drifted off, feather in hand.

When he awoke at dawn, he threw his blanket off and ran to his father's room. Scrambling onto the bed, he started jumping on him. "Dad! Wake up, you said you'd take me flying!"

Phil groaned and rolled over, one of his wings hitting Wilbur in the face and making him fall off the bed. As soon as Wil hit the floor, Phil sat straight up and scanned the room. His eyes landed on Wil, and he smiled tiredly.

"Goodmorning, Dad," Wil whispered from on the floor.

"Goodmorning, Wilbur," Phil whispered back, cupping his hands around his mouth comically. He let out a yawn before getting out of bed. He picked Wilbur up and stalked off to the kitchen for coffee and breakfast.

Phil put Wilbur down in a chair at the dining table, and Wilbur babbled excitedly about flying while Phil made pancakes.

Techno and Tommy eventually padded into the kitchen, both sleep-deprived and dragging blankets behind them.

"Dad's taking me flying today!" Wilbur yelled. Techno only blinked at him. Tommy inhaled sharply, looked at Wil, and opened his mouth as if he was going to say something before letting his head hit the table with a soft bang and falling back asleep.

Phil brought in plates of pancakes as well as drinks: orange juice for Tommy, apple juice for Wilbur, and straight, black coffee for Techno. He sat down and had barely started eating when Wilbur started pestering him about flying.

"Can we go, now?" he asked, bouncing up and down in his seat.

"Are you finished with your breakfast?" Phil countered. Wilbur gulped down his apple juice and stuffed the last half of his pancake in his mouth. Phil sighed. "Fair enough. Give me a minute to eat, and then we'll go."

Wil pulled on his sneakers and pulled his unkempt hair back into a short ponytail. It looked ridiculous, but Wil figured it'd be a lot better than hair in his eyes when he was flying.

He paced the mud room as Phil finished breakfast and got ready. Finally, they stepped outside. Phil picked Wilbur up. "Hold on tight," he said before pushing off the ground. Wil screamed in delight as the ground shrunk beneath them. He waved to Tommy and Techno, who watched from the ground with anticipation for their turns.

Phil flew through a cloud, and Wilbur laughed as water droplets formed on his arms. He felt the wind rip through his clothes, making them flap in the strong breeze Phil's wings created. They did flips and turns of every sort until Wil's breakfast threatened to come up. Then, they simply glided.

Philza was right; flying was freeing.

It was exhilarating and amazing, and Wilbur never wanted to land.

Wilbur smiled at the memory of his first time flying with Phil. He could remember every little detail about that perfect day. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it had only been a decade.

Bitterness had grown in him over the years. Phil still took him flying, but it just wasn't the same as having his own pair of wings. This bitterness multiplied when Tommy's wings sprouted. Wil would glare at them with envy and wish that his would come in already.

But as the years passed, he knew he'd never have wings of his own. He lost hope.

A lot of things had happened since then: the war of L'manberg, a falling out with his family, and all these little problems that led to the overwhelming feeling of hopelessness that spread from being flightless to his everyday life.

Wilbur had given up, but he still wanted to fly one last time. He longed to feel the rush of air beneath him. He looked out over the cliff at the rolling ocean below and prepared himself. He held his hand above the water, uncurling the fist it had formed. He watched as a single black feather floated down, carried gently by the breeze to the ocean below. He wished to be that feather, free and floating calmly. He took a deep breath and steadied himself.

"I'll finally fly," he whispered before leaning over the cliff's edge. Ignoring the tears streaming down his face, he fell. Wind whipped his clothes around, and his tears were lost in the salty spray of the ocean as it crashed onto the rocks below him.

Massive brown wings sprouted from his back, and he let out a surprised chuckle, a sound strangled by melancholy. He had wings! He flapped them and felt the strong muscles working to lift him above the sharp rocks and the vast ocean.

He laughed as the spray that had washed his tears away moments before now gently coated his wings. He flew as high as he dared, flying through clouds and laughing in joy as he was soaked with cold condensation. It felt just like when Phil took him flying.

"I have to tell Dad," he said. He glided towards his childhood home. He landed gently in the fields he used to run around in as a child. He stretched his wings out, still amazed by their existence. His hands strayed over the sunflowers that grew in the field as he ambled towards home.

He as a little worried about what Phil would say. He hadn't talked to the man in a few years, and for him to show up out of the blue and with wings much less...

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door, and Phil opened it. He paused and took in his son's appearance, immediately noticing the wings. He threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh. "Wil, you have wings! We have to go flying!"

They spent all afternoon high above the clouds, father and son reunited. It was as if Wilbur never left. And once they landed, they had supper, and Phil taught Wil how to care for his new wings. It was perfect.

Wilbur smiled widely. His childhood wish had finally come true. Now, he could finally fly with his dad.
~*~
(1292 words)
~*~
AN: two things

1. this is the fiftieth chapter! it's been quite the journey; thanks for sticking with me! and thanks for 28k reads and 1.1k votes! 🎉🎉🎉

2. I forgot to say this last chapter, so happy pride month! you all are so valid, and I love all of you!

goodnight :] (or good morning or good afternoon or whatever lol)