[w.s] oneshots (schlattbur)

apologies

prompt: fighting and making up. requested by nobody

warnings: slight angst, slight fluff

wilbur felt like absolute dogshit.

he had had a terrible day at work, yeah. he was exhausted. but those were all stupid excuses. he shouldn't be allowed to treat him that way.

'i just wish you would spend more time with me once in a while, will.'

'i try!'

'you've said that for the last month! we live in the same house and i hardly fucking see you! it's hard on me.'

he didn't deserve him.

'i know it is, but i have work all day and by the time i get home, i really just need to have some me-time, and you never listen when i tell you that!'

'i listen plenty, and i give you your space, but even on the weekends you're holed up on your phone or your laptop. i don't care if it's a date or not, i just want to spend time with you! is that too much to ask?'

'schlatt, please. i need some sleep. i've had a day.'

'you say that every day you come home. and i get it, i really do, but sometimes it just feels like you take me for granted. i'm always the one planning things or doing you favors, and sometimes i hardly get any appreciation for it!'

'i'm really fucking tired. please, let's postpone this conversation until the morning.'

what was he thinking?

'will you postpone it again after that?'

'of course not.'

'last time you did.'

wilbur gestures vaguely in frustration. 'what do you want from me then, schlatt?'

'acknowledge what i'm saying! try to do better for me! i dunno, something!'

god, he fucked up so bad.

'i really do try! but work has been super stressful, and-'

'i have a job too! and i fucking hate it! and i come home every night as tired as you and i still ask you how your day was and tell you that i love you and give you a hug, and you never do those things anymore!'

schlatt had been right.

'never? that seems like a rather harsh absolute.'

'you really suck at listening sometimes, you know that?'

'at least i'm not accusing my boyfriend of not loving me anymore.'

if he leaves him, what is he going to do?

he hisses. 'i never fucking said that.'

'yeah. like you didn't mean it.'

and the hurt in schlatt's eyes and the quiver in schlatt's lip tore him apart, but he reached out too late. he turned around and slammed the door to their room, and wil was left standing there, one arm reaching out to nobody.

how bad of an idiot did he have to be to fuck up so terribly? even in the moment, he had known schlatt was right, and in retrospect not only was he right, but wil on the other hand, had been nothing but in the wrong. burying his head in a pillow, he tried to stop replaying the words in his head. a night's sleep would help them both, he hoped. he owed him a huge fucking apology in the morning (if he was even still there).

hours passed, and he felt like the scum of the earth the entire time. the microwave in the kitchen ticked past one, and he considered trying to go back to their bedroom to apologise endlessly.

there was a whisper of a door opening, and familiar footsteps attempted to muffle themselves. schlatt whispered his name as a test, and will made some sort of noise in response. he slipped in between the boy and the back of the couch, both of them barely fitting, speaking so low will could barely make his words out to be something like "i don't want to fight anymore".

wil wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him to himself. "i was such a fucking asshole, schlatt. i'm so sorry." he felt him nuzzle into him, purring softly, and he felt all the worse for not deserving this. "i'll do better, okay? i'll listen more, and give you more attention, and tell you how much i love you every single day until one of us dies."

and schlatt can't help but smile a bit, because will was obviously trying so hard to be sweet, and it was working. "every single day?"

"every single goddamn hour, until you get sick of hearing about it."

"mmph, impossible."

"we'll see."

he pressed nonexistent kisses to the tip of schlatt's nose, then his eyelids, and in between his brows. he kissed the tear stains left from hours ago and his cupid's bow, and kissed the dent in between his bottom lip and his chin. schlatt's arms wrap around his neck and his hands knit together with his hair.

"tomorrow's your day off, right? i'll call in sick. we won't even go anywhere, just you and me together all day."

"that sounds really nice, wilbur."

"so you forgive me?"

and schlatt kissed him soft and sweet.

"yeah, i do."

kissing his forehead and his hairline, pressing his lips to the top of his head and the tips of his ears, kissing his dimples and his jaw because he shouldn't be forgiven, because he fucks up so bad so often and he still sticks around.

tangled legs and intertwined pinky fingers, schlatt's hand skimming through his hair, and will kissing him softly long after schlatt falls asleep, only stopping when he can't keep his eyes open long enough to admire him anymore, and he realized he needed this casual sort of intimacy so badly, that he can't live without it (without him). he's the luckiest man in the world, because he'd have no clue what to do if he wasn't there with him then, melting in schlatt's arms because he hadn't even known how much he craved this exactly.

will drifted off to sleep the happiest he'd been in ages, pressing their foreheads together so their noses brushed and taking their hands and intertwining them softly.

(fin.)

Final word count: 1011