He could have changed, I just wasn't worth it - Wilbur & Fundy angst fic

Chapter 1

Fundy had sat himself against a cold hard brick wall in an alley underneath an almost starless sky, his fingers curled attached to white-knuckled hands with peeling dry skin. Smoke emitted from a cigarette pressed against his cracked lips and the huffing of his ever tired breath could be heard from cities away as he choked up sharp fumes through his nose. Fundy lifted a cracked phone from his pocket and blew smoke at it's screen before glancing at the time,

2:49am March 6th.

An almost cruel chuckle morbidly escaped his lips, he remembered verbatim what happened on this date 5 years ago. He was certain his father did too, it was cruelly ironic that today was the date that 4 years turned to 5, but of course, Fundy's bitterness wouldn't let him miss this date for the world, at this point it was all he lived for. Just for a few futile seconds to look at the date and remind himself that he was a victim, that he had a reason to be angry, that he had a reason to be like this.

Wilbur wouldn't let himself smoke, not anymore, but holy shit did he want too. The date 'March 6th' glared at him from across the room, reminding him that no matter how much he cared for Tallulah, he would always be a bad father, that he could never be redeemed. His daughter and princess Tallulah would always serve as a wicked reminder to that, brutally, she was born this very day, her birthday was the day that he said goodbye to his previous son, today she wasn't his daughter, she was simply a synonym of his past failure, waiting to conclude to the same fate.

Even though Wilbur adopted Tallulah 3 years ago, he still knew that he could never be a true father, not after he'd failed before. Sometimes he wished he could take it all back and have his 12 year old daughter and his 16- 21 now, year old son live together, and be siblings. Yet he couldn't have that luxury, he didn't deserve that luxury, he would always be haunted by his mistakes that circled around him and fed on him like vultures this very day every year. It made him feel worse that he's supposed to be happy on this day, happy for Tallulah, but how can he celebrate the day he kicked out his son? The son that Tallulah still doesn't know exists.

It was 7:30am now, Wilbur hadn't slept and Tallulah came bounding down the stairs holding her favourite white teddy bear.

"Happy birthday Tallulah! Do you want to open presents now Mi Amor?" Wilbur beamed an empty smile at his daughter who was stood on warm wooden floorboards below him, grinning ear to ear with messy curly hair and a beanie that was half falling off.

"Yes please Papa!" Tallulah signed with her hands. She could talk, she just preferred not too, words being a confusing mess for her to untangle and building up the courage to make a noise terrified her. It was better this way.

Fundy was cold, like really fucking cold, like if he was a cartoon his ears would have fallen off and he would have turned to ice. He fell asleep in the stupid ominous alleyway and woke up cold and damp, but most importantly, fuming. Now Fundy wasn't homeless per-say but he lived in an abandoned garage with his buddy Schlatt, it was pathetic and a pitiful place to stay, but it was home.