Cliché

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"You Amuse Me"

Revivebur

Tw: Smut

Notes: I never wrote this, and you never read it. In my defence though, this was a request. Don't come at me

Song: "Teeth" By 5 Seconds of Summer

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Wilbur took another drag off his already stale cigarette. The same cigarette that he had been smoking for the past thirteen years.

Sounds of passing trains blared into his ears. The vibrations from the horns shook the rickety wood bench he was sitting on. But by now Wilbur was used to this.

He tilted his head slightly to look at the wall over by his right. Along the dull surface were scratch marks for when he had first been dropped here. The paint had since peeled where his fingernails had torn the concrete in his desperation. He scoffed, remembering the pitiful action.

The man exhaled a cool cloud of smoke. It wafted up to his hazel eyes and made them water, but he just blinked a couple of times to get rid of the haze.

His glasses had begun to slip down his long nose. Wilbur pushed them up slightly, opting to tilt his head back after finishing the movement. The back of his head hit the cold wall behind him with a dull thud. Loose pieces of gravel hanging off it dug into his neck. Wilbur paid no mind.

He rested like this most of the time. Just sitting and waiting for something- anything -to happen.

Another gust of strong gale hit his face. Wilbur peaked an eye open to see yet another train passing by mere meters away from him.

But this time it seemed to be going a lot slower.

He quickly sat up, slightly pushing the tan guitar that rested on the seat next to him aside. Eventually, he could hear the breaks being hit. A screeching noise bounced off the walls and back into his eardrums with a shrill tone.

Red-ish light shone from the inside; as if it were a poorly lit club. From his position on the bench, Wilbur could see a figure's outline on the inside. A ring of black light surrounded their head, as if it were an omen. Of what though, he wasn't sure.

Wilbur grinned widely, his canines showing.

This would be fun.

---

(Y/n) was confused.

One minute she had been strolling through the woods with Tommy, goofing around and punching each other in the arm, and the next standing inside a trashed train car.

They blinked once, eyes adjusting to the dark interior. They looked down at the hard seat they were currently sitting on. It was a snotty green color, with a faint fade as if it had been power washed one too many times.

Looking down a bit further, (Y/n) saw the outfit that they were wearing. It was certainly different from the one they had on when meeting Tommy today.

Instead of a grey hoodie and weathered sweatpants, they had on a loose t-shirt with ripped jeans and beaten up shoes. After seeing how different their clothes were, (Y/n) patted her waist in blind panic, only to still when she found that her trusty knife was still there in all its glory.

The wardrobe malfunction wasn't much of a difference, but (Y/n) still found it a bit peculiar that something had changed her clothes.

Or someone.