Will Them Into Existence

(Makings Of)

There in the hallway stood a familiar blonde haired boy, cheer uniform stained and torn. His curls fell flat against his head, sweat making the topmost pieces near his scalp stick down onto his forehead. His headband was cracked right down the middle, one pink half being held in the hand he had pressed against the wall, bloodied fingertips leaving tracks in his wake.

His other hand tightly wrapped around his middle, covering a growing patch through his prized racing jacket. His green eyes looked dimly at the floor, and he was missing a shoe on one foot, the remaining one dirtied with scuff marks. Wilbur glanced once towards Dean, who hesitated and then nodded jerkily.

The green haired teen walked slowly towards their brother, leaving the cases and instruments near Dean. Though their footsteps caused a little sound to echo through the empty halls this close to the front office, Thomas did not raise his head. Instead, his fingers curled from their place on the wall, his hand dropped -shaking- back to his side, and the headband piece fell against the floor.

"Toms?" Wilbur whispered, lifting a hand up as they got closer. "Are you okay? What happened, bubbah?"

Still, the other did not respond. His shoulders shook and his bangs covered most of his face with the downturn of his neck, but he did not respond. The taller twin set their hand gently on his shoulder, and only then did he glance up from his state to meet Wilbur's eyes.

"Hey, there you are." They said, lifting their other hand slowly up to rest on his other shoulder. "You okay?"

Slowly, the blonde shook his head, and another shiver rolled down the green haired teen's back. They quickly glanced around the hallways, making eye contact with Dean who raised his eyebrow in question. Wilbur simply shook their head, turning their full attention back to his brother.

"What happened, bubbah?" They asked again, hands gently squeezing his shoulders. They looked down at his clothes and his glaringly obvious wounds, eyebrows knitting in concern. "Are you hurt anywhere else? How bad is it?"

Tommy blinked slowly, free hand coming up to touch the side of Wilbur's face. His eye twitched slightly, and a small smile grew on his features. "Wil."

Wilbur scanned his features for a moment, nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm here, Toms. Listen, I need to know how bad you're hurt, okay? We've gotta get you out of here."

The blonde's hand dropped back to his side, and he nodded slightly. "I- I don't really know. It's- it's probably fine. It doesn't even hurt, honest."

The taller's eyes widened, and they looked back to the brunette man, who had already begun to gather all of the forgotten instruments on top of the cart in order to carry them through to the front. "Okay. Okay, that's- okay."

Wilbur cleared their throat, dropping their hands from Tommy's shoulders and instead taking one of his hands in their own. He led him gently down the corridor until they met with Dean, who met the green haired teen's gaze with grimace.

"Dean-" They started, voice choking off on the first vowel. The blonde beside him only blinked slowly, gaze falling back down to the floor and his one socked foot.

"I heard. I heard, kid." Dean finished for them, looking between the two and worrying his lip between the two. "Listen to me, Wilbur. And I mean really listen."

The mentioned teen raised an eyebrow but nodded anyway, glancing towards their brother who stood just as he had.

"There is something in this building. I know you know that. I know you can feel it, for whatever fucking reason- don't give me that look, you've never been able to hide things from me, kid- point is, you've gotta use that to your advantage."

The brunette man gestured to Thomas with a tilt of his head, leaning against the now filled cart. "Your brother, he won't survive another attack. Whatever happened to him, he needs to get out of here, now. And he needs you."

Wilbur opened their mouth, but Dean cut him off with a shake of his head, sighing and rubbing the point of his nose with his fingers. "I know. I know Sammy needs me. I know you need me too, dammit, despite how much you like to think you've grown. But look at him, Wilbur. You two have got to go. Do you understand me? You've gotta get home. To Sam. He'll help you fix Tommy up, okay? You've just gotta get home. I'll buy you as much time as I can."

The green haired teen blinked tears out of their eyes, reaching up with their free hand to rub at their cheeks. "Are you fucking done? That is the dumbest bullshit I have ever heard, Dean. I-"

Abruptly, the brunette man busted the cart through the office door, glass embedding itself in the instrument cases and flying through the hallway. Wilbur looked at him with wide eyes, having just barely jerked themself and their brother out of the way on time upon shiver-instinct only.

"Dean, what the hell-" They asked, tears once again brewing in their eyes.

"Get the hell out of here, Wilbur! Now!" Dean shouted over his shoulder, alarm sounding throughout the school as the now busted security system registered a threat.

Wilbur hesitated for a beat, red flashes filling up the darkness of the hallways. A chill spiked through their spine, and they watched from the corner of their eye as a darkness came closer to the front hallway. Wilbur pushed their eyes shut and shook their head, forcing themself to keep moving forward despite the urge to charge back. They kept their grip firm on their brother's hand, stopping every so often as he stumbled - but still, did not say anything.

As the pair rounded the hallway back to the band closet, they passed the case containing the picture, and Wilbur didn't even look at it - far too concerned with the amount of (badly played) instruments echoing over the speaker system. They furrowed their brow and kept walking, finally pulling open the door and pushing Tommy lightly into it first, the sounds of Dean grunting in the effort to play as many instruments as he could get his hands on rumbling in the background.

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damnnnn bruh :(