The Last Age | Lunch Club One-Shot

The Last Age (Schlatt & Wilbur)

Inspired by @locallygrownwig on Tiktok
Caption: "Death visits you on the night of your birthday. She's sad that she has to take you, but at least she bought you a present."
Song: "party favor" by Billie Eilish
Lyrics: "And I hate to do this to you on your birthday. Happy birthday, by the way."

Wilbur sits on his bed as his mind races through the various stages of his life. From one of the first friends he met in grade one to traveling to America and meeting some faces he met online, Wilbur smiles nostalgically.

It's been a good year, Wilbur thinks to himself as his eyes trace the dots on the ceiling. The previous homeowner was a bit of a mess, Wilbur knew that, but how the fuck did they manage to get coffee stains up there?

Today was September 14th. He was a couple of hours into being 24 years old- which was quite shocking, if he was being honest. It was still young, but... he had survived 24 years. Most of those were attending school, too.

Some of his friends had come together and thrown him a surprise birthday party. It was incredibly nice of them, especially since Wilbur knew all of them had pretty tight schedules. They all spent the night drinking, playing games, and making cheap jabs at each other and their own memories.

I've known some of them for a long time, haven't I? Wilbur asked himself quietly, eyebrows furrowing. He suddenly realized he still had his grey beanie on. Grabbing the beanie, he threw it at the foot of his bed.

It fell on his feet. Groaning audibly, Wilbur pushed himself up with his forearms, making eye contact with a transparent man with some kind of horns. It was perched up on the edge of his bed, somehow balancing in a Spiderman-like position with his hands pressed between his feet.

"What the fuck?" Wilbur yelped, pushing himself up even faster than before and pinning himself to the wall behind his bed. His eyes darted around, finding his phone on his nightstand and grabbing it. "Get the fuck out! I'll call the police!"

The figure rolled its eyes, which seemed quite... misty. Especially so for some kind of demon Goat Man thing. It rose its arms to the sides of it, causing multiple loud cracks to echo around the room. Wilbur flinched but didn't take his eyes off of the figure.

"Get the fuck out!" Wilbur yelled, his voice now louder than before. He pointed at the figure with his phone, which was not a good idea at all but Wilbur wasn't really listening to his subconscious telling him that, waving it around frantically. "Either I call the police or we fucking wait till my roommate gets here, and you definitely won't fucking like him, mate! He'll fuck you the fuck up!"

Wilbur was lying, of course, but the figure didn't need to know that. His roommate had moved out a couple of months ago.

The figure tilted it's head, staring at Wilbur. It had a clean-shaven face with a loose business suit on. Its tie was nowhere to be seen, and its brown hair had a baseball cap placed over it. It was a weird outfit, but Wilbur had seen his American friend Ted recently. There was no beating Ted in weird fucking outfits (and good outfits, but Wilbur liked to focus on the funnier parts of things).

"Wilbur Soot," The figure spoke, and oh, shit, its voice was layered in the quiet whispers of other things, but Wilbur could identify it was a man. "It is your time."

Wilbur was a lot of things. He was geologically-intelligent, a conspiracist, a lover of whales (not the country Wales, the animal whale), and more, but he wasn't stupid. He knew what "your time is up" meant. He had seen too many movies not to.

"Are- are you Death?" Wilbur whispered loudly enough that both men could hear it. His eyes were wide as they remained locked with the man-created crouched in front of him.