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

the bill comes due

it repeats in his mind, watching as you had fiddled with a sheet of paper and pencil before flopping onto the loveseat in the recording studio, showing him quackity's parts, that you were not like him. "maybe he'll be able to convince a friend or two to join, don't know how successful he'll be, though," you bit your lip, flipping your pencil as it erased a skinny eighth note. you're always moving.

he watches as your hands move and adjust the paper, adjusting several notes as you hummed them out, the distant noise of tommy and quackity in the back of his mind. it doesn't take much to convince him to sink into the couch beside you, before the door is slammed open and his brother is grinning at him, coming right towards him and talking about how he needs to buy the weird guitar that quackity is playing because he is such a fucking musical genius. in his words, not wilbur's.

"whenever you're seventeen i'll buy it for you," he says but truly, as he leans his head back to hang off the arm of the couch, he didn't know how long that would take to scrounge that money up. out of the question almost. but it's tommy, he supposed, he didn't have the heart to tell him the truth.

"it's cause you're broke isn't it?" his voice shocks him as if he tossed a bucket of ice water down his pants. his head lifted up but tommy's face hadn't changed a single bit, open and wide but more so curious. and...

resigned. he knew. he knew he was broke and was pretty much okay knowing he might never get that instrument via wilbur. no matter how far his birthday is.

nothing seemed to hurt him more than tommy, or you for that matter, nowadays.

"no it's-" he didn't know what to say, what could he say? say that he spent almost all of his money on a streamer? a streamer he tried to watch through cameras and failed and the person he's watching at night is sitting next to him, glancing between the two brothers. a person who has been nothing but nice to him.

"money gets tight sometimes, tommy," you spoke, and he looks towards you, "but maybe if you get a job when you're sixteen, he'll help pay, like half, wouldn't that be okay?" you turn to him, as if asking if that was alright, as if asking if it was alright to say the words he couldn't.

be a brother that he wasn't.

tommy shakes his a little, in deep thought as he turns around and much more slowly returns to quackity.

when the door shuts with a click and leaves the two of them in relative silence, he sighs. when did tommy get to be so old? when did he?

"you know you can tell him the truth, you know?" you mumbled, "kids'll find out one way or another, especially when they're teenagers," and you just kept writing things down, writing down notes as if it was a diary and you were pouring your head out.

"yeah," he breathes out, "yeah, you're right."

it's a little less than an hour when they are told they have to leave so they can close up shop but they can be back as soon as they open. and as tommy jabs and jabs at his phone in the passenger seat, he finds himself fiddling with his hands as he stands in front of you. he should hug you right? after all, you invited him over and you helped with tommy.

"hey thanks for coming, i'm really glad you saw the place with us, we think it's perfect but wanted to get your feedback," you spoke and while you avoided his eyes he couldn't seem to stop staring at yours. did you always seem so alive?

"so?" you peeked up at him through your lashes, and he starts to stammer, finding the words loose and slippery on his tongue.

"well- you know, i didn't get- it looks and sounds great from- er, you know- from what just happened, yeah?" and though it sounds like he vomited words more than he said them, you continued to look at him with something he couldn't describe.