Quackbur Oneshots- [TNT DUO] (requests open)

Save This Tonight And See It Tomorrow

Helllooo this is for tntober day five but it's late because I went to sleep.

Prompt: late night smoke

Wilbur wishes so badly that it was possible to time travel.

Just a couple of months ago, maybe, he won't go too far, he promises. Back to when he should have started to notice everything slowly rotating right in front him, away from him.

It feels a little unfair, as well, among all the other emotions he's trying to swallow down with a drag of his cigarette, there's frustration meddled in there somewhere, he knows, some sort of ugly fear that crawls up.

For some odd reason he wasn't doing that well keeping all of this down a while ago, and how he was being avoided sure did not help. So he left, slipped away out of the front door, trying to breathe in the late night air like it would help him float rather than sink into his deep little gutted hole of emotions.

Upon seeing his favorite bench, he sort of has to take a moment and hold back the urge to wince because he's come here so much recently that it's now dubbed his favorite out of perhaps the other three spread across these fields of grass. In the distance, Wilbur can somehow see a dog and its wonder running around in the dark, hearing muffled commands through laughter such as 'Come here' or 'Good job'. Luckily, he's not totally drenched in the night like they are, there's a handy street lamp to his left, legs crossed as he tilts his head up at it and squints at the light, sort of blinding, but mostly ass because it flickers and goes absent for three seconds before returning.

Save for a random and their dog, it's all empty out here. Wilbur maybe wonders if empty is better. More manageable than the whirlwind storm he's got going on that drowns something to the depths of his stomach and it physically hurts. He knows it won't make it stop, but he takes another drag.

He wonders what he could have done differently. At least what he could have done today. Discluding the past two months or so. He doesn't exactly remember.

But he can't change it anyway because time travel is all fiction rather than real science, so Wilbur's stuck with words replaying in his head from an argument that's starting to eat him whole.

He didn't mean any of it. Didn't mean it when he told his boyfriend to go bother somebody else. Like an absolute prick. It's one of those things that sure, you regret, but there's really no taking it back- and even if you did things will fall apart anyway, because life never really was about having something that lasted.

Wilbur inhales, mentally telling himself to stop, to just knock it off and suck it up as his eyes grow watery. He never really liked to cry, not until three seconds after when the weight lifted. But then it was followed by self-dissapointment thirty seconds later, and the weight had never left, it just hovered above him and came crashing back down onto him and splitting into two. So mathematically he was supposed to feel better with half the load, but he never truly felt good after crying. He doesn't think many people do, anyways.

But then he sniffles and it's like fighting something ten times his size. He left because he couldn't keep the tears back, right? So now this was just his fault for leaving to a place where he didn't necessarily force that wall as much.

"Wilbur-"

Wilbur doesn't even have to look to know who is is. Who apparently trailed after him once he left despite ignoring him more or less for the past hour. Wilbur hunches, back turned to him, and frowns, rolling his cigarette between two fingers.