Lessons

You want to play? (Game on)

TW PTSD, child abuse, child negligence, panic attack, anxiety, manipulation, alcohol mentions
Please let me know if I missed any

"Hey Wil?"

"Yes Dad?"

"Tell your brothers to pack, we are spending Spring break with your Min and Pop."

"Spring break?"

"Yes, is something wrong?"

". . . Of course not, I'll go and tell them."

● ● ●

Wilbur pushed Techno's door open, and stood in the doorway.

"What do you need Tommy?" Techno asked, without looking up from his work.

"It's Wilbur." The brunette said quietly.

The former turned his chair. "What's wrong Wilbur?"

"Nothing," Wil said, his hands clasped in front of him.

"You didn't knock, you always knock, therefore, something is wrong." Techno said, standing up.

"You need to get packed, we're leaving for spring break." Wilbur said, before going into hie room.

It took his last ounce of resolve to close his door quietly. He sat with his back to the door, trying desperately to sort himself into some semblance of order.

He wouldn't cry over this. He shouldn't cry over this.

It has been ten fucking years since he had lived there. Yes he visits every few years, Yes it was shitty every time, but it shouldn't be this hard to escape.

He lives in an amazing home, with an amazing family. He shouldn't be this way anymore.

"Wilbur? Where are we going?" Techno asked from the other side of the door.

Wilbur didn't answer.

Techno left.

He came back about 20 seconds later, seeming to have gotten the information he needed.

Wilbur had a duffle bag out, and was putting clothes in it.

"Are you okay?" Techno asked.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Wilbur retorted.

"I know where we are going."

"And?" The brunette pulled out two shirts from his closet and held them up. "Yellow? Or white?

"Quit playing dumb Wilbur, I want to know if you'll be okay."

"Both then." He said, taking them off the hangars and folding them up.

Techno took them out of the bag, and threw them down the hall.

Wilbur sighed. "Really?"

"Yes!" The strawberry blond threw up his arms in anger. "You were abused there, neglected there. I want to make sure you're alright."

"I'm fine." Wilbur said calmly. "We visit them every few years." He turned to put socks into his bag.

"Techno, even if I wasn't, you can't do anything, and neither can I." He met his twin's eyes. They probably had the same look in them.

The look of absolute defeat, because the people are older and they have authority over you. No one will believe you over them, even if you are in the right.

They have threats they can hold over your head, threats that leave you with no choice but to conform.

Wilbur knows that.