The Silence of a Somber Day

Higher Than The Clouds

Few weeks prior

Wilbur didn't want to be here. He felt like shit. His skin was clinging too desperately to his muscles that weighed him down, and his blood kept clogging up in some areas while flitting through others. That's what it felt like, anyways. That was his bodily pains. His mind was being far less sensitive and compassionate. Wilbur couldn't move his body without feeling like he was doing that wrong. Every rise and fall of his chest made Wilbur worry that he was disappointing everyone because he couldn't breathe right. A large part of Wilbur knew it was stupid and the people who cared about him wouldn't have an opinion about how well he breathed, but an equally big part was yelling at Wilbur that no one cared about him.

So, walking to a cafe packed with people? Out of the fucking question. Yet, here Wilbur was, hair slightly greasy and eyes darting around fearfully as he pushed open the door. He knew instantly that his friend, Niki, had lied to him about the cafe closing. Wilbur understood on a surface level that Niki did this out of concern and to push Wilbur out of his own mental prison, but a deeper level kept blaming his current pains on Niki and her deception.

Wilbur was about to turn and leave when he saw the boy. Blonde hair as raggedy and oily as Wilbur's- maybe more so- with a distant look in his blue eyes that sat above deep, sagging bags that marked tiredness. The boy looked like he was seconds away from bolting or crying, and Wilbur felt the exact same way. Against his better judgment, Wilbur lifted his feet one after another, step by step, until he was next to the boy's table.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

Wilbur gave a placating smile, tension spiraling into springs ready to jump high in his stomach. The boy shifted to stare at Wilbur, zombie eyes blinking slowly as his face morphed into a light glare. Wilbur knew it wasn't ill intentioned, merely defensive.

"Fuck off."

"You have a mouth on you."

Wilbur lowered himself into the seat. Even though the booth supported his weight, Wilbur felt something heavy sitting on his chest that kept him from relaxing. He lowered himself around his coffee with far too much creme. The boy shuffled closer to the wall, looking back out the window. Wilbur didn't want to see any more people than he already had, so he keeps his eyes trained on the boy.

"My name's Wilbur."

The boy had this look of disbelief hidden in his eyes as the flickered over to Wilbur. The man didn't blame him. Wilbur didn't know anyone who was this kind to someone they had never met. Strangers weren't friends you haven't met yet like school teachers said, they were enemies you haven't made yet. Still, Wilbur couldn't be cold to someone that looked like they had similar problems to himself.

"My favorite snack is sand and I absolutely despise anteaters."

Wilbur didn't know why he said that. To fill the silence, his mind supplied in between the self deprecating thoughts. Wilbur froze up when he heard a stifled laugh, and the boy trying to hide his lower face. Wilbur thought of a mischievous game to play: try to get the boy to laugh.

"I'm serious! Anteaters were created by a devil somewhere. The worst devil in the world, in any world. He saw humanity, and decided to fuck them over with anteaters."

Wilbur smiled on satisfaction as he kept talking, the boys laughter rising in pitch and volume. Wilbur could barely contain his own laughter as he continued, testing how loud the laughter could become. The boy was eventually breathing so heavily with a red face that Wilbur decided to give him a small break.

"Oi! Unfair!"

Tommy, as his name was, started talking back to Wilbur, the two joking back and forth like friends instead of strangers. After an hour, Wilbur rose to his feet.