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

neon lives

the next month is spent papers being shuffled, files being put away in bins, and a better couch replacing the old one, this one so soft you can sink into. reminds him of home, he notes as he drifts dangerously close to sleeping when a heavy hand pats his legs, shaking his shoulders as he bemoans, moving the couch especially took forever yesterday.

techno finally moved in completely, having his own twin mattress set up behind the couch, something he didn't agree to but it happened anyways, his desk shoved into the corner and the kitchen table moved around for more space.

it's still a tiny apartment but it feels better with his brother in it, he realizes. and he figures, how bad of a roommate can his brother be?

he had totally forgotten how terrible his brother was as a roommate. his meetings, by the way, took hours to settle and he only used headphones eighty percent of the time. not to mention the things he complains about. playing his music too loud, eating at ungodly hours, eating too much junk food, isn't cooking enough, drinking too much orange juice, the list goes on. he's got an issue with everything that he does.

and as terrible techno is as a roommate, an actual roommate, he passes the time with all the griping that he does, passes the time and by the time they went down to visit their brother and father, it's december. midterms are under way and wilbur finds himself in the act of planning for a party he's not even throwing.

"like what do i even wear?" he asks techno, at some point when they're eating lo mein, and on the floor in front of the TV because heavens forbid they eat on the nice couch. techno swallows what he has in his mouth and leans his head back, resting it against the sofa and blinking at the ceiling. when he turns back to his brother, he gives a shrug.

son of a-

"what do you mean," he mimics his shrug but with attitude, incredulous attitude. asking his brother for serious advice and he totally deflects him.

"i mean i don't know, never did the whole going to parties thing, remember?" technoblade spells it out for him and he knows, he's aware of the solitude techno thrives in. but he's dressed appropriately for every occasion so he kinda figured he might have advice. and he tells him this.

"but you have a somewhat decent wardrobe, thought you might have something to say." and his brother turns to look at him fully, gives him a look over and picks up his drink.

before he latches his mouth over the lip, "wear that," and swallows half of the soda.

wilbur groans.

what that meant is his yellow, wool-knit sweater with his jeans and the boots he'd kicked off in favor of free feet. and of course the new, red beanie on top of his head.

"i'll look like an idiot and underdressed-"

"wilbur, i've been to as many parties as you have, which is a grand total of nada, but even i know that if anything, you'll be overdressed. you're fine."

that was a few days ago, his laundry was already done and is just sitting on his bed. those exact clothes separated from the rest and sitting in a pathetic, little pile. probably wrinkled too.

and he's sitting on the kitchen counter staring at his phone. looking at quackity's text. the party was in a few day and when it began, it would be.. it would be a ticking, time bomb before he ran into one of three people he actively avoided.

god.

if he had to see your face. after all this time, after.. after doing everything that techno said he needed to do right. after he erased his computer completely. (that was necessary when he thought the police were on their way any minute, convinced that you'd gone ahead and told them that he'd been in your room, stalking you without you knowing.) after he put on a few pounds from techno's insistence on cooking more than eating out or microwaving some instant noodles.