Starlights ||Schlattbur||

18: Stars

Warnings: Referenced Suicide, mentioning of Self-harm scars
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There was no reaction from Techno at first, only a quiet silence in the house that would make anyone uncomfortable. The eerie quietness lasted for probably thirty seconds before Techno looked up from his lap. He glared at Wilbur, a hint of betrayal in his eyes, showing his disbelief.

"Wilbur, this isn’t funny."

His suspicions were true. “I’m not joking,”

“William,” Oh he did not just-

“Techno, I’m not fucking joking.” Wilbur spat, slightly annoyed. He understood Techno’s hesitance, but Wilbur didn’t think that he’d be the kind to lie about something so serious.

“Oh, fuck, man.” Techno slouched against his chair, his posture failing as he propped his head in his hands with the table as support. "No, that can't be right," Wilbur felt guilt begin to eat away at him. Not that he feels like he did anything wrong, but he feels guilty that Techno has to hear this news. “Are you lying to me?”

"I wish I was lying." Wilbur didn't know how to comfort his older brother, just seeing him sit there, uncertain, was enough to make Wilbur's heart ache again. Techno was the big brother--the one everyone looked up to, and there was finally something on his face other than pride or occasionally visible happiness. "Uh... I told George, maybe he could confront Dream on it?" Wilbur suggested, shrugging lightly.

"Are you sure that he's..." Techno’s voice trailed off to a quiet sound, broken and upset.

"I'm sure Techno. They're right across his waistline. I saw them on the leftish side, close to his stomach," Wilbur assured. Although, nothing was reassuring about this situation. A close friend of theirs who was happy almost all the fucking time has turned to at least one unhealthy coping mechanism? Who knows how many more of their friends are plagued with intrusive thoughts and self-hatred? Who knows how many of them have been close to killing themselves? How many people have they overlooked? High school isn't even over yet, and Wilbur's already heard of two or three people passing from suicide. He can't let Dream be another one. Then again, self-injury doesn't always mean suicidal. Why did his mind immediately go to that? Wilbur just felt like he was slapped in the face with a cold, harsh reality. No longer was he a child. This wasn't the perfect world he'd dreamed up as a kid. This was the real world and it wasn’t all puppies and sunshine. It was a nightmare.

People have bigger issues. Seriously, Soot? Are you really gonna be a fucking crybaby while Dream could be over at his house right now with a blade to his skin? People have it worse than you, you know? Stop fucking crying.

"-bur? Wi...ur? Are y... -ay?" 

Wilbur heard the voice, but he couldn’t see through the tears in his eyes. He heaved out sobs, covering his mouth to try and muffle them. Why was he so pathetic?

"Wilby?" A new voice chimed in. He felt a small pair of arms wrap around his sitting form, feeling a tuft of hair tickle the back of his neck.

“T-Toms?” Wilbur choked out, feeling weak and pathetic. He latched onto his little brother, holding onto him as if his life depended on it. “I’m- I’m sorry-” He opened his eyes, trying to blink away the tears. He blurrily saw Tommy’s hair against him, along with a freckled arm wrapped over his shoulder.

“What are you apologizing for?”

“You shouldn’t- shouldn’t be seeing me c-cry, I’m supposed to be a ro-role model for you,” Wilbur wiped his face, feeling worthless once again.

"It's alright, you don't have to apologize. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Wh-where the hell did you even come f-from, you little gremlin?" Wilbur chuckled lightly, trying to wipe the tears from his face. He was grateful, truly. But he still felt like he was burdening his siblings.