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

have i found you?

friday.

a week has passed, he notes as he clicks the pen in his hand, and you're missing from his life

it's been a week and he hasn't seen you. he's seen rosie, who's more than content to rant to him about how you've been keeping her up with your terrible sleep schedule and insistence on getting everything ready, ready for the two of you to actually play together. he doesn't know why but the knots he usually gets around rosie, instead of making him feel lightheaded, made him feel nauseated. it worries him.

and when his professor dismisses the class, he doesn't help it when he wanders towards the music building that he gave his jacket and beanie to you at. which, he figures at this point, he might never get it back and he doesn't know how to feel about it. especially when you've hung out since then and have yet to mention it.

he hasn't either but he doesn't know how to approach it.

then again it's been a week.

and he's walking towards the practice rooms. he may or may not have hacked the school's system to find your classes, just to see if there was anything he could be of help with, but no, your grades were perfectly fine. but he knew you would be out of your maths class already, and possibly already in a practice room.

"you can't fight the tears that ain't coming," a voice sings and he doesn't know how to feel. it's vaguely you, it's so muffled, so quiet, he wonders if these rooms were actually soundproof. "or the moment of truth in your lies."

and as if you were a siren calling for him, he ascends the stairs, legs burning as they lead him to the sound of your voice, too caught up in missing you and the nagging feeling that made him choke on his spit, to slow down and think this through-

silence. there's now only silence ringing through his ears. where had you gone?

then, a screech in the air.

he turns down the hallway and finds the last one to the left. standing there for a second, he hesitates before he knocks on the door, wondering if he made the right decision.

the door opens with the creakiest hinges, and out peeks your head, and then you're grinning and pulling him inside. the air is knocked out of his chest as you push him into the chair in the corner, right next to a guy who smiles at him with the same look in your eyes. he shoves his hand into his, shaking it as if he just drank the school's supply of powerade.

"names quackity, i'm in the orchestra," he smiles with all teeth, shifting his attention easily from him to you, standing at the piano playing some chords with style. "you must be wilbur!" he finds himself in a whirlwind, when did he tell him his name? or, more likely, who told this random person about him?

"didn't i tell you he's tall?" you call over the piano's keys, a grin spreading across your face as you lean back, and somehow your joy became infectious.

he found himself smiling just as much as you were, laughing as he confirmed to this stranger that yes, he is wilbur. he is tall.

"anything else you've told him?" he laughs it off a little, quackity shifting the guitar case by his feet.

"should i or should i not have told him that you're into ball gags?" you ask aloud, slowly turning to him with your jaw dropped open, pressing down on a minor chord.

"what did you two eat?" he asks after he calms down from a laughing fest.

you think it over as you continue pressing memes into the ivory keys. turning your head to look at your other friend, you gesture him to wilbur, "care to explain, ole pal of mine?" and over the tune of coconut mall, quackity explains that you two found a bag of candy in one of the many unlocked lockers in the halls.