"The Case Of The Fire Inside."

I got boulders on my shoulders 1

Wilbur climbs out of the car and wonders why this purgatory has to be so pretty.

The view is beautiful, stunning green grass at his feet breaking off into a sandy beach, dark blue waves lapping at the shore. He can't deny the fact that it's a good place to work. Too bad he doesn't want to be there even in the least bit.

He should be back with his company, building up his sales and working on his music, not stuck here on an island in the middle of nowhere with a father he had barely seen in years and a brother who hadn't returned any of his calls since moving out.

"Well, it's a lighthouse for sure," Techno said dryly from beside him and Wilbur snorted, sending a light-hearted glare towards the pink-haired man, who pushed up his glasses, turning to look over to their father who was grinning. Wilbur frowned harder just to offset it. The man showing them around, with curly brown hair and sunglasses so dark Wilbur couldn't even see their eyes, shifted uncomfortably.

"Uh yeah," The man cleared their throat. "That's what it is. I'll show you guys around, but I have to be gone in just over an hour to catch the boat out, so we need to make it quick."

"Of course," Phil said, picking up his bag, gesturing for his sons to do the same. Wilbur rolled his eyes as he grabbed his. A single suitcase including everything he needed for the next six months of his life. Its almost depressing how easily he packed up his entire life. "Sorry we were so late; we ran into some trouble on the way here."

Wilbur bristled slightly, because technically he was the trouble that caused them to be nearly three hours late, but you couldn't blame him. He hadn't wanted to come here anyways; they should have just left him behind instead of waiting for him and missing the boat out. Wilbur's sure Techno and Phil would have had a lovely couple of months together without him fitting into the expression. The two of them had always gotten along so much better.

They were moving forwards, and Techno bumped his shoulder on his way past, shooting him a glare that clearly meant: Stop being a fucking child. Wilbur resented that glare.

The man, who Wilbur still hadn't gotten a name from, unlocked the door to the small house attached to the lighthouse, turning on the lights as they all filed in one after the other. Phil and the man chatted easily, the man listing out the accommodations and other things. Wilbur didn't care much. Techno had wandered off slightly, eyes roaming the interior and Wilbur just stood there, huffing silently to himself.

It was a nice house. He could admit that. Not big by any standards, but probably just enough for the three men. Barely. Wilbur could already hear the disagreements Techno and him would get in over space and crossed boundaries. Just like they did when they were teenagers, forced to share a bed in a shitty hotel because it was the only time they could see their father.

Wilbur looked over at Phil now, the other man pointing at different switches in some sort of box. Wilbur didn't care enough to listen in to their conversation.

Instead he moved around the house, eyeing the decent sized kitchen with large windows on all the walls, the place flooded with bright sunlight. The cabinets were stained dark brown, offset by the eggshell white walls. It was oddly quaint, something he had never seen replicated in the big city he lived in.

Connected onto it was a smaller living room, a few beaten-up chairs scattered around the room, a bookshelf in the corner and an old tv attached to the wall. An old record player sat on an end table, shiny and new as if it was just recently washed.

"The place looks like shit," Techno said from beside him and Wilbur turned to glance at his brother's blank expression. But not even the years away could have dulled Wilbur's understanding of his twin, Wilbur could see the irritation in the clench of his jaw, the twitch of his fingers. Wilbur felt it mirrored in his own scowl.