ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ɴᴜᴍʙᴇʀ 1999 (ˢᶜʰˡᵃᵗᵗᵇᵘʳ)

1- His Dirty Converse Soles

-----Lighthearted chapter, a starting chapter :) --------

-Wilbur's(not really) POV-

The window was cold, Wilbur's knuckles were turning white by the pressure he was putting on his hand, trying to get some decent sleep, his insomnia was getting quite unbearable the last couple of weeks, and the results of it were painted all over his face, or just to be specific, the harsh eyebacks darkening his face, aswell as the amber like sleep gunk in his eyes.

It wasn't helping that the bus he and Tommy took was quite crowded, screaming babies and annoying adults making the Brit's ears ring, it was useless trying at this point.. But there's a problem. Tommy was sleeping right on his shoulder, neck pretty much bending in a 90° angle, all while the blonde drooled lazily on Wilbur's jumper.

Why did Dad have to send me with Tommy and not with Techno?! He's gonna be such a hassle to deal with! He through inaudibly, hissing under his breath silently.

They would arrive sooner or later... Right?
________________ Lil time skip_____

Finally, they arrived in a boring little concrete town, the rain had stopped long ago, so it was a delight to smell the fresh rain water when the two brothers stepped out the bus, bags and suitcases in their hands.

Tommy stretched his back, yawning loudly before he stuck on Wilbur's side like a jellyfish. It made the brunette laugh a little, waking him a bit aswell.

"Sooooo, Wilbur, what was the address again?" asked Tommy, cracking his knuckles, as if he was about to go and beat up someone, which was obviously him just showing off now buff in quotation marks he was.

"I think it was... Eh, Revolution, 16?" he muttered quietly in response, watching as his brother childishly ran up to the sidewalk, stepping on a filthy, dirty, poop colored puddle, making the water splash all over his red Converse shoes and white socks, ew.(🤢) No way I'm washing those.

"Tommy! C'mon, your shoes are destroyed enough!" he hissed at the blonde, making his way calmly besides the boy and kneeling down, seeing as the soles he had spent 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 trying to glue back on were sloppy, and the glue definitely wasn't gonna last.

All Tommy could manage was a choked set of wheezing, in which he sounded like a chicken being brutally slaughtered, no offense, but Wilbur would rather step in that poopy soup puddle twice than have Tommy laughing on loop for an hour. That's just a death wish and he knew it.

"Ugh, Tommy! You know how much time I spend helping you fix the soles on these crappy shoes!" he groaned, tossing his head back and grumbling angrily, as he grabbed the blonde's shirt, tossing him around.

"Well, I'll pay for the glue this time, alright? Now let's go home! I wanna call Tubbo!" Tubbo was Tommy's best friend, they basically knew each other since kindergarten, ahhh, good days, back then, Tommy was throwable.

"You better be careful with those loose soles of yours." Wilbur laughed, elbowing the kid lightly, but he definitely didn't listen, because of the following sequence of actions.

"I'll show you careful!" he challenged, taking his shoes off completely, running around like a madman with dripping socks on, yikes. And of course Wilbur ran after him. Because he's supposed to be the adult here. And this was supposed to be his very grown up 18 year old brother. Just peachy, he sighed.

______________Time skip again___

They finally made it to their new house! After some trial and error, Wilbur unlocked the door, letting his brother go nuts over the unfurnished rooms, the dusty corners and the small spiders he found all around the interior.

"This is.... Shroud!" he announced finally, pointing at a spider hanging by the door, carefully inspecting its little legs. "Wilbur look! Can we keep em?" he asked, already looking around for anything he could use as a temporary cage for.. Shroud.

"You'll take care of Shroud though, you know that, Tommy." he hummed quietly, whisking as he started unpacking his stuff, looking around before grabbing a broom, beginning to sweep the floor, like the clean freak that he was.

We don't want Shroud to end up like Apollo, Tommy's dog, that died tragically after getting left all alone in the house without food because Tommy forgot to tell Tubbo.

"Yes?! Is that even a question?" he crackled, humming before pulling out a zip log baggie, looking back to locate Shroud, but... Got met with no arachnid.

"Aw man! They left!" he cursed under his breath, making older brother chuckle.

"Maybe you should save up some money to get a goldfish, perhaps." he joked, watching as Tommy's eyes lit up. Oh no.

"Tommy."
"That, is a 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙩 idea!"
"Tommy."
"Oh my god, I'll name it..."
"Tommy-"
"Oh! Oh! Maybe Clementi-"
"Tommy. It was a joke, save up your money to, I don't know, get better shoes?"

"Well heck, thanks for telling me how to spend my money 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘰𝘰𝘮." he cooed, snorting as he laughed, that annoying little bastard, it was like adding fuel to a fire, it can cause some explosions.

"Tommy! Look, you know I can't be mad at you, but honestly, I wanna punch you in the face so hard right now." Wilbur spat pretty coldly, before sighing in defeat, knowing what would happen next.

"𝘿𝙤 𝙞𝙩. 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙥𝙪𝙨𝙨-"
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Wilbur had to go to the grocery store, just to buy some band aids for Tommy's nose, to sum it all up? God, the American weather does change a man drastically, violence being the main factor of that change.

That was the day, Wilbur found out Tommy bled so much through his nose, ouch.

"Sir- why are your hands bloody?" the pharmacist asked, when Wilbur reached out to ste the money on the counter. He could feel all the other customers staring at him, oh how it hurt his little introverted heart.

"Oh- well I was trying to fix my brother's nose, put it back in place, because he was foolish enough to break it, so I got blood all over me." he simply hummed, taking the bandaids and leaving in a hurry.

Maybe they would be calling the police on him later.... Not too convenient.
______________Small Time skip____

-Wilbur's POV-

As I was walking back home, phone on hand, I couldn't help but feel lonely, pretty tragic? I know. Serves me right for agreeing to come here after all.

The scarf I loosely wore around my neck warmed me up well, even if I could see my breath right infront of me as I walked.

I was thinking, and thinking, about nothing in particular, like I always do when I'm bored, about what I'd do when I got back home.

Even if my nose was messed up from the bad weather, tucked nicely under the wooly material of my scarf, I could still, in fact, smell a strong irony scent. But I quietly brushed it off, reminded of the blood splashed all over my fingers. Mm

Was it that blood though? Or was I just making myself believe it was?

________________end of chapter___