A Lost Pair of Sunglasses ~ Georgebur Highschool AU

#1

Wilbur held the sunglasses in the palm of his hand, and stared at them with befuddlement. There was no mistaking them. These were notorious. George Davidson's "Clout Goggles", the sunglasses the popular ravenette took everywhere with him, the most iconic symbol of his fame. And they were here?

That was a lot to unpack. Firstly, why here? George Davidson wasn't gay. At the very most, he was extremely closeted, and wouldn't risk going to a club like this. There was no way he would risk being outed or found as gay, there was no way he'd keep his popularity after that. And anyway, Wilbur could've sworn that he hadn't seen the notorious individual in the buzz of the club. Secondly, how the hell did he lose them? Like, seriously? The man never took them off his head, let alone out of his sight.

Maybe they belonged to one of the many fans that trailed George? That would make more sense. Many of them carried replicas on their persons. And there was no reason for a fan to not attend a meeting of the LGBTQIA+ society. Yes, Wilbur concluded. These belonged to a fan.

Yeah, it was easy to think that. Until he turned them around in his hands and spotted the legendary 404 sticker on the left earpiece. Yeah, no, these did not belong to a fan. These were the real deal, owned by the notorious GeorgeNotFound.

Oh. Shit.

So what would you do if you were left holding the biggest symbol of power in your entire school with no sign of the owner?

Well Wilbur's first thought was obviously this: snap them. Logic kicked in soon after. “No Wil,” he murmured to himself, “they're not yours, you can't do that.”
The thought was still very tempting. After all, George's best friend Dream was a such a douche to himself and the rest of Lovejoy, and had never stepped in to stop him. Maybe the guy had some karma coming?

Finally, a conclusion that didn't lead to him becoming public enemy number one shot to mind. Keep them. George would replace them soon enough. And hey, it would be a cool story to tell on a Reddit sub in a few years.

Tucking them in his blazer pocket, he smiled to himself. Yeah, this would be pretty cool.

Oblivious of his son's theft, Philza smiled at Wilbur. “Hey, all ready to go home?”
Trying not to let his delight at his new find show in his face, he responded with a noncommittal shrug. “Guess so.”

As always, as soon as Wilbur got home, he threw his bag at his little brother Tommy (who sadly avoided it) before running to his room. Once he was there (with the door securely locked behind him), only then did he feel safe to bring the sunglasses out from his blazer pocket.

The famous Clout Goggles owned by George Davidson were right there, in his own hands. Holy shit. The power radiating from this flimsy plastic item was overwhelming. It was like Wilbur held George's life force itself in his sweaty palms. The real Clout Goggles. Wilbur couldn't hold back the cheeky delighted giggle bubbling in his throat. A giggle. Man, it had been so long since he had last giggled. It had to be like 4 or 5 years now. And here he was giggling like a schoolgirl over some damn shades that belonged to the popular guy out of his league. “You're such a simp, Wilbur.” He scolded himself.

He slid the box out from under his bed. His bounty. Years of discarded pencils, personalised keychains and lost pairs of glasses filled it right to the lid. Damn it. It was too full for these Clout Goggles.

Thankfully, he had a new box. Also stolen, because man, was he a thief. To be fair, it wasn't like anyone wanted that box. It was in the recycling, waiting for the bin men. It had probably come from Tommy's room to be honest. That guy was always throwing shit out. When wasn't there a discarded box or some broken toy thrown in the trash?

Not Wilbur though. Wilbur never threw anything away. Maybe it would have a use someday. Or maybe it had something important on it! And this anxiety was why Wilbur was never told to empty the bins. It was just easier for someone else to do it.

Opening the lid of the empty box, he placed the item directly in the middle, eyeing it carefully to be sure that he had left an identical amount of space on each side. Hey, he was a perfectionist when it came to his boxes!

Placing the lid back on, he slotted it in the gap under his bed and let his blanket fall over it. Who knows what would happen to his stuff if his father were to find the boxes?

No, could never happen. So hidden they would stay.

There came a thud from below. Wilbur scowled. If that was Tommy, he was going to take him right outside and deposit him directly into the trash, where he belonged.

“Wil!” Called out his father.
“Yeah Dadza?”
“5 minutes until food, get your bum down here!”
“Coming!”

He unlocked his bedroom door, smiled to himself, and went downstairs.

One by one, the foster siblings rinsed their hands under the tap, observed by Philza's ever-watching eye. Tommy took his place at the foot of the table, which is where he went as the youngest. His older brother Technoblade, being the favourite, took his place at Philza's right-hand side. Wilbur's seat was to the other side of Philza, by the wall. Lounging back in the chair, he waited for his food.

“Wil, feet off the table.”
Wilbur rolled his eyes and dropped his feet down to the floor.
“Meatballs for everyone!”

“Hey Dadza?” Asked Tommy, his mouth half-full of spaghetti. “Can Tubbo and Ranboo stay over tomorrow?”
“Don't talk with your mouth full.” Philza replied automatically.
Tommy swallowed the spaghetti and continued. “Can they? Please…?”
Philza sighed and took a gulp of wine. “As long as their parents are okay with it.”
Tommy punched the air and immediately got out his phone.

Wilbur reached over and snatched it.
“Hey! Dadza, Wil took my phone!”
Wilbur handed it over to Philza with a smug smirk. “No phones at the dinner table.”
Tommy pouted. “I was just telling Tubbo and Ranboo that it was okay!”
Philza sighed. “Wil's right, no phone at the table. But snatching it was rude.”
“Then ground me.” Wilbur grinned mischievously.

“What's got you all chaotic, Wilbur?” Techno raised an eyebrow. “Or should I ask who?” He chuckled and his lips quirked into a smirk.
Wilbur went bright red involuntarily. Yeah, he was a big simp for George, wasn't he? “N-nothing!” He squeaked, frustrated that his voice went like that. Embarrassed, he buried himself deeper in his hoodie. What were the Clout Goggles doing to him? Blushing? Squeaking? Giggling? He was like a junior school girl with a crush. Man, what was happening to him?

Tommy let out a loud laugh. “Does wickle Wilbur have a cwush?”
“Fuck off Tommy!”

Philza sighed as he began to clear the table. That was the drawback of Tommy and Wilbur bonding as siblings, despite their lack of biological relation. The sibling fights. At least Techno, who had been taken in when he was far older, didn't fight like that with them. Techno was like the perfect older brother, attached to his siblings but distant in a way that encouraged them to grow on their own without constant fights.

“Wilbur!” Philza called out as the teenager headed to the stairs. “Kitchen!”
Wilbur sighed. He would have to wait a little longer before he could go admire the Clout Goggles once more.