and i'd give up forever to touch you || Wilbur x Reader

opening up, inside and out

he's sitting outside, on the curb when you pull up in a compact car, music pulsing through the speakers and when you roll down the window, the volume too, and smile at him with half-awake eyes, he's up in an instant, heart racing when he thinks back to just moments before.

to the moments when he doubted the continuity of your friendship, where he was so resolute that you would abandon him once he would become comfortable, once he showed himself to you completely.

you don't give him a chance to think that again as you leaned over and gestured for him to get in, "it's cold wilbur, get in," you chortled as he scrambled to his feet, as if he forgot to move for a second. giving the door a solid shut, he rolled the window up and moved the seat back a little, feeling more awkward than the cold you had warned him about outside.

"thanks for coming with me, will, i was going nuts with how quiet it is." you offered little more than turning up the music as you pulled into the street.

"is there something... troubling you?" he asks, keeping on the dim light on the road, the sparse cars that pass them by.

you exhale deeply, eyes trained on staying in the painted lines on the road. "doing this cover and its responsibilities have dawned on me, and trying to figure out if this will be worth it- worth scheduling weeks, maybe months of time to even reach maybe the first two minutes, with our own two parts. maybe we should think about making it simpler, narrow it down to a piano and vocal duet, or a single guitar and-" you cut yourself off, pulling into the lot of a closed-down store, one of the few in this college-centric town.

"is that what you want to do?" you turn to him, your face sullen and eyes wandering over his figure, like he didn't need to show himself at all, and that you saw him as he is already. and you had no qualms about what you saw.

"no, i don't want just a simple cover, done in three sessions and- and have not a single drop of substance behind it. i want to feel the love sewn into frequencies every time i listen to it, i want to feel-"

you cut yourself off before smiling at him, "i want to feel alive when i hear it, because i know that's how good it could be." you trail off, looking out towards the windshield. "and i've only felt truly alive when making music, alive in a way that is beyond the pulse of my beating heart, you understand that, don't you?" he stares into your face and finds it.

he sees you, bearing your true intentions behind this project. he wonders if you're trying to share this intimate experience you feel with music with him.

he wonders how special you find him to want to share such a thing with him only.

"i don't think i've ever felt it." he admits.

"not even when you wrote your songs?" you question, head tilting to lie against the headrest.

he shakes his head, "i wrote those songs to help me cope with my life, something i didn't understand at the time." he wonders if you're trying to do the same.

"i could show you, if you want, but fair warning, you'll get addicted to the feeling." you joke, and he smiles, but he knows you're serious in the offer. with this cover, you'll probably show him something he won't forget for as long as he lives. it's curious to see if he'll survive it. "well- now that's off my chest, how about some early morning mcdonald's?" you say, as if trying to cut the thick layer of intimate honesty about oneself into diced cubes.

he blinks but you're already driving to the closest mcdonald's before he has a chance to respond. and you're reaching into the cup holders, holding out your phone to him and telling him a pass-code. "play some music, it's connected to the bluetooth already. or a podcast, though you don't seem like the guy to listen to podcasts to me," you speak and you're giving him a quick grin before turning back to the road.