It Was Enchanting To Meet You. || DNF

82. The talk.

George's heat pulsed in his ears as he made his way through the halls, looking for Wilbur. He knew the brunette well enough to know that he would be in the training room, and so that's where he was headed.

His stomach churned with unwanted nerves and with each stride he took he was beginning to regret his decision more and more. It was a familiar feeling for him every time he built up the courage to talk to Wilbur, but this time it was different because he wasn't going to back down for the millionth time. After all, Wilbur and the others deserved an explanation, along with an apology.

George's hands became sweaty as he neared the training room, hearing the muffled sounds of arrows hitting their target; another familiar thing to the Brit. He used to always train with Wilbur.

Without letting any of his raging thoughts overcome him, he pushed the heavy door open, and, not to his surprise, to find a Wilbur who was dripping sweat. He wore a dry skin black suit, his abs defined. He didn't wear his glasses while practicing, and if it were under different circumstances, George would've laughed, because it had been so long since he'd seen the taller brunette, let alone without his glasses.

Upon his arrival, Wilbur's attention was on him in less than seconds and George could see the way the boy visibly tensed up. George swallowed, "Uh, hey." Wilbur diverted his attention, knocking another arrow into his bowstring before releasing. "Hey," he responded firmly after a few long, agonizing moments. George didn't know what to say, so instead he slowly slipped into the room, closing the door behind him. He made his way over to the small table in the gym, settling himself comfortably in one of the metal chairs. He let out a small sigh, his shoulder slouched.

"How have you been, Wilbur?" he asked before he could catch his tongue, and just as Wilbur was about to shoot another arrow, he stopped, pausing for a second before glancing at George from over. "Honestly?" he questioned rhetorically, firing the arrow and hitting his mark, all while still looking at George who was behind him. "I don't know. I don't know how to feel about... everything," he continued, resting his bow down for a minute. Despite his gaze now off the shorter Brit, he still nodded. "Sit with me for a minute?" George asked, and Wilbur seemed more than happy too. He had been training for a while after all.

George watched as Wilbur sunk into the seat opposite him, sighing as his muscles relaxed. "Why are you here, George?" the Head Hunter asked, genuine curiously lingering in his tone. The question took George aback, not expecting the boy to be so straightforward this early on in the conversation. "I owe you an apology, Wilbur. And an explanation," he responded quietly, and the other nodded after a moment. "Okay, but I have some questions for you first," responded the taller, and George returned the gesture.

"What happened down in that ravine?" he asked, observing the boy closely. George bit the inside of his cheek before responding with, "I got into a fight with Dream and we fell in, as you may know. We were against each other for a while and we didn't trust one another in the slightest. But then.. as time progressed and we worked together to survive and get out, I eventually got to know him better- a him that not many people knew about," George elaborated, seeming in a trance. Wilbur listened all too attentively.

"After that, we sort of created a mutual bond over the common feeling of having a hatred for the king. Then, he told me horrible things about his family, and we formulated a plan on how we were gonna rescue them. We went to the Royale Dungeon, and well, you can fill in the rest of the gaps," he finished explaining, shifting nervously in his seat.

Wilbur had listened attentively to George's reasoning, and soon enough all the dots began to connect. He nodded once more, leaning back into his chair. "What is Dream to you?" the Head Hunter asked, and the small brunette choked on his spit, coughing lightly. He had been caught off-guard by the other's sudden boldness, but then again, it was to be expected. Wilbur continued to observe him carefully. "Well, I guess you could say.." George tried to explain, his words trailing off. He locked eyes with the other for a split second, not knowing how to explain. "Do you like him, George?" Wilbur asked, his tone slightly deeper than it was before. George gulped hard. "I do," he muttered.

It was quiet for a second, and the former knight was expecting Wilbur to begin yelling and lecturing him, but when an all too strangely calm 'Okay' brushed past pink lips, he snapped his head up, confusion written all over his face like an overused paper. "Okay?" he mocked, and he could see the small smile curve against Wilbur's lip. "I was beginning to wonder when you were finally going to come out of your shell," he said, lifting himself out of the metal chair. "It seems like Dream's managed to help you with that."

George's eyes trailed Wilbur's body as he retried his abandoned bow from on the floor. "Train with me," he insisted, and the Brit hesitated before agreeing. He stood beside Wilbur, a bow in his hand. He held it awkwardly, its presence both familiar and unfamiliar all at the same time. The Head Hunter snapped him out of his trance-like state by firing an arrow, the blade soaring through the air and landing on its target.

Bullseye.

Wilbur tossed his bow onto his shoulder, smiling smugly at George. "Let's see just how out of practice you are, Georgie," he teased, the nickname reminding the boy of his blonde lover. George resisted the urge to roll his eyes and he began to knock an arrow onto his bow. The movement was on instinct and all George's hard-core training and the hours he'd put into perfecting archery came rushing back to him within seconds, and, his movements much more efficient than Wilbur's, he released the arrow, causing it to tear through the Head Hunter's one right down the middle and hit the mark.

George's chest swelled with pride, and when he glanced over at the taller, the latter's eyes were blown wide, his lips pursued in shock. "Well," he said, chuckling softly. "I guess you aren't as out of practice as I thought you were." George grinned at him, replying with, "You got that right." His response caused Wilbur to shake his head as he slung the boy over his shoulder. "I'm gonna take a shower and get dressed," Wilbur stated, excusing himself. George furrowed his eyebrows. "Wait.. that's it?" he muttered confusedly.

By now, Wilbur had already began to leave the training room. He glanced over his shoulder one more time, bidding George a kind smile.

"It's okay, George. You don't have to say anything else. I understand, and I forgive you."

~

Why is Wilbur kinda... /hj and why did this story turn into Georgebur all in one chapter.. /j

Anyways, after this story you guys have no idea what you're in for 😍🤞🤞

thank you so much for 4k reads srsly ilysm