Roomate for Sale!

The Cold

CWs/TWs- Disassociation(?), talks of death, mention of suicide (I will never actually write about suicide, it's one of my triggers and makes me uncomfortable.)

Wilbur feels cold.

He feels as though he's receded into the back of his head, watching the events play out as if he were playing a second person POV game. His blinks get longer and his eyes get droopier, and all he has to keep him in the present is Tommy squeezing his hand as he talks to someone. A policeman, or a detective, or a nurse. Wilbur can't remember. It's all fuzzy.

They're moved outside away from the police tape and the stuffy corridor so they can talk freely- someone asks Wilbur for something, his perspective and what happened- how he found Schlatt-

He recites what happened from his memory as much as he can before he chokes up and clamps his mouth closed, and Tommy waves the person off, saying they'll call them later. He told all the important details anyways.

Wilbur's face is wet, and he can't tell whether it's from the tears still prickling his eyes or from the downpour of rain- it wasn't supposed to rain tonight, but he guessed it matched the mood.

He and Tommy are finally dismissed, soaked to the bone as the person finally finishes their mini interrogation. Wilbur numbly realizes that he has to walk back to the dorms in this weather when the person offers to drive them to their college in their police car. Tommy nods and helps guide Wilbur into the car with the help of the policeman.

In a blink, he's back at the college, and Tommy is dragging him through the rain to get to the shelter of the dorm building.

And when Wilbur and Tommy finally collapse into their beds, it's 3:00 AM.

—————

When Wilbur wakes up, it's with crusty eyes and a horribly sore throat. Tears spring to his eyes as he tries to open them, but everything feels so heavy and his head hurts. A whine nearly rips itself from his throat as he tries to sit up, but then cold, gentle hands press him back into the bed. Those same hands curl into Wilbur's hair and Wilbur sinks again.

Wilbur finally gets the strength to peel open his eyes, wiping the crust and dried tears away. The area around his eyes sting- and if Wilbur had to guess, he'd say they were probably red and puffy. Sore. The world is blurry and his head is pounding, but any memories of the nightmares he might've had the night before are wiped away as a blurred face comes into view.

Wilbur's face twists in confusion.

"Phil?"

"Hiya, mate." Phil's tone is soft, and Wilbur's grateful for how he lowered his voice because his head was still pounding incessantly, "Are you up for eating anything right now?"

"Mmhg-" Wilbur struggled to sit up, his head feeling as heavy as a bowling ball, "What- what are you doing here? What-"

-happened. He was about to ask what happened and why his head hurt so much when the memories rolled in, flashes of grief and cold and Schlatt's body hunched over by the bathtub-

Wilbur's eyes fly open in a panic, "Tommy, where's Tommy-"

"Hey, hey, calm down," Phil soothes, pushing Wilbur back into bed, "He's in the room next door with Tubbo and Ranboo, he's safe. He called me here to make sure you weren't alone when you woke up. He was very concerned about you when he called me, it was really sweet."

Wilbur lets out a deep breath, pushing down the warmth stirring in his chest at Tommy's worry for him, "I never thought anyone would ever describe the gremlin child as 'sweet.'"