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

turning page

there. it's settled. he tells himself that but it isn't, the air is thick with a tension that wasn't there before. was that his imagination or had you plugged your ears to avoid conversation with him? you probably don't even want to be here anymore, because of him-

and after an agonizing hour of pouring over every little detail that happened in and out of his room, you lean back into the couch and pop your knuckles. taking out your earbuds, you take a look at him and then nudge him with your sock-clad foot. "you're gonna hurt yourself with how hard you're thinking there, bud."

he attempts a smile but you keep staring until you gesture for him to talk, "something bothering you?"

"do you like rosie?"

holy shit.

he turns his gaze from you, eyes staring wide at the ground as he tries to form words, mouth opening and closing. he pushes a sound out, not quite understanding it himself and then glances back at you. you haven't stopped staring at him.

what's the right answer? what will keep you from leaving him and ending this friendship right now?

"i won't hate you if you do- its just-" you wanted him to be friends with you, for you, not just for your roommate.

he can't lie to you, looking you in the eyes and seeing the tiniest bit of hurting in them, and feeling the biggest lump in his throat. he can't lie. not when you're staring at him like that. "she's my favorite streamer, it's still a little bit weird to be seeing her in person when i'm used to her behind a camera." He settles with that excuse, admitting to at least her being his favorite streamer. "but... i don't- i don't like her like that."

you stare at him until you're slowly nodding, and then you're offering an apology, "i just get really scared, you know? one guy went so far as to date me just to talk to rosie, so- you can blame him for my paranoia."

he frowns as you shrug it off, heading back to the living room to finish your homework, and he's left sitting on his bed. thinking about the underwear in his drawers, the cameras in your room, how it was all an accident.

one thing is for sure, he wouldn't be like that piece of shit, no, he wouldn't do that to you. besides, dating you doesn't seem like the best idea, seeing as his palms started to sweat and his heart pounded in his throat at the thought of it, yeah, this is his body telling him it was a bad idea.

not for any other reason, he tells himself as he gets to his feet, rejoining you on the couch for some more essay questions.

the time passes much more slowly, feeling as if he had to take every grain of sand and drop it in the hourglass himself. as if he was supposed to suffer in the silence while you plugged some headphones in, unaware of his morality crisis boiling under his skin.

why couldn't he tell you the truth? that he said yes to you at the beginning for the sole reason.

because it would hurt you. because you would never want to see him again. because he would lose the first good thing that's happened to him since rosie came into his life.

because he can't hurt you, no matter what. he boils it down to that. He won't hurt you.

there. it's settled.

"just how much work i've been neglecting," he says, turning his eyes back to the screen as he could feel the heat of your gaze on him, tracing over every feature on his face.

just like he'd done to yours, unwilling to let himself forget such a kind person.

"yeah, crazy how much time has passed, almost makes me afraid of how fast it'll pass moving forward." you speak, staring down at your computer screen, as if you were contemplating crawling inside of it.