mcyt oneshots

night / schlatt x wilbur

tw // none

There was really no reason why he was outside at 2:00 A.M.

He didn't need to clear his head - he wasn't feeling particularly stressed about anything, or upset, or sad.

It was just that kind of night for Schlatt. The kind of night that makes you feel like anything is possible, like any dream, no matter how ridiculous, could become reality. Or, if you had no particular dream, it was a surprise what fate had in store for you, on nights like these.

Walking along the streets of California at night was a dream in itself. The air was warm during Summertime, and the skies were black, yet clear. The waning gibbous moon was visible more than the stars, due to pollution of the populated state, but Schlatt admired each constellation he could identify.

The sounds of busy roads and honking cars never ceased in the area, but everything was quieter on the backstreets. The lights shone less brightly, and the road was quieter - almost peaceful. Trees, bushes and vines grew haphazardly alongside the streets, flowers and weeds sprinkled throughout.

Schlatt watched his shadow stretch and move as he walked past the streetlights.

He listened into the smaller sounds, like his own breathing, his sneakers hitting the concrete, crickets hidden from sight. He looked up and around, taking note of blackberries in the greenery, illuminated by the light. Soon he came across the familiar parting, where the road turned right and a small, secluded dirt path, surrounded, and almost hidden by trees and bushes, took a right.

Gently pushing stray branches out of his face, Schlatt finally reached the small, secluded area of a riverbank. It was quite peaceful, really. Simple, but perfect. Dirt turned to mud the closer you got to the river, and there was a slim dock that stretched out onto the river. Nice to sit on during the day, when the sun had made the water warm enough to tolerate, and let your feet dangle in the water.

But at times like these, he usually sat cross-legged on the dock. Kept to himself. Warm, comfortable, content.

The moon seemed brighter, now that it reflected on the calm body of water. Schlatt remembered learning that, somehow, the moon controlled the tide. He thought about that often, while looking at the view before him. He thought about the shining circle in the sky communicating to the glimmering water below it, dancing romantically and harmoniously to keep balance in nature.

And the stars seemed brighter, too. Even though they were the same stars from earlier. Maybe now, since Schlatt had nothing more to focus on than them, his mind was opened to the sparkling lights above.

Schlatt, mind still occupied by the shining stars and small, glistening waves, barely noticed when a twig broke back on shore. The noise having startled him, his head snapped in the direction of the noise, automatically expecting the worst. But instead of seeing someone in all black with a weapon, it was a boy with a guitar.

A boy wearing a large mustard-yellow sweater, and black ripped jeans. He wore a grey beanie over his messy brown hair, and silver, circular glasses on his nose. Schlatt couldn't make out his facial features though.

His hands were around the neck of his guitar-Schlatt guessed it was because that made it easier to shimmy down the thin path to the bank. The boy stopped once he spotted Schlatt.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I-I didn't think anyone would be down here at this time," He said, shyly.

Schlatt was surprised to hear that this boy had a British accent. He shouldn't be, when you think about it, because people come from everywhere in the world to visit California.

"No, it's okay, I didn't either."

A few moments of silence passed, both of the boys just looking at one another, before Schlatt spoke up again.

"You can come sit, if you'd like."

"Yeah, alright, thank you," He said, slowly making his way down the dock to Schlatt.

Something told them to be frightened. That logical part in each of their brains told them both that this situation was suspicious and unsafe, yet they both chose to ignore it - another part of them (their hearts?) told them that this was fate, and fate wasn't meant to be ignored.

Schlatt felt Wilbur sit beside him on the dock. Felt his warmth, his presence, his aura, even. He didn't feel frightened - in fact, quite the contrary. He felt...comfortable, more so than before.

"Jonathan," Schlatt spoke quietly, but even his quietest voice sounded like thunder, while everything else was silent, "But call me Schlatt."

"Wilbur."

The boys looked at eachother. They both felt something. Something warm and familiar - like their souls had been friends forever but their bodies and hearts were just meeting here, and now. The boys studied eachother's faces, and it surprised them both that it felt normal, natural.

Schlatt observed every detail about Wilbur's face, now that he could, thanks to the moonshine. His messy, wavy hair, the slight bags under his eyes (obviously, because it's almost 3:00 A.M.), his pinkish, thin yet pouty lips, his dark brown eyes, that held a natural kindness unfamiliar to Schlatt.

It's not everyday in California you meet a stranger who's actually nice. Everyone here, Schlatt had learned, is thirsty for fame, and would do anything to be at the top.

But Wilbur, even with his guitar and aesthetics, was different. Schlatt could tell. He was warm and caring, genuine.

Wilbur knew the same of Schlatt. He may not have lived in California for very long, as he'd just moved last month, but he just knew that things like this didn't happen every day. Even in a dream-come-true state like California, fate wasn't always so kind. So Wilbur knew, by this encounter with a mysterious boy on a dock by the riverbank, that he was one of the lucky ones who was now indebted to fate.

"Why do you have a guitar with you?"

"Because," Wilbur replied, pulling said guitar onto his lap, and slipping the strap around his neck, "When I play it, it makes me feel calm, at peace."

"Can you play me something?" Schlatt asked, and how could Wilbur say no to this sweet stranger (who didn't feel like a stranger anymore), whose arms were hugging his knees to his chest, and who was giving him the largest, most hopeful eyes he'd ever seen.

Wilbur started to strum his guitar, singing softly, almost at a whisper, for a sleepy Schlatt, whose eyes were now closed. Wilbur looked up every now and then, to look at the boy next to him, and see the small, yet telling, smile on his face.

They were at peace. The soft strums of a guitar, quiet crashes of waves on the shore, and leaves rustling softly now and then. It was perfect.

For Schlatt, and Wilbur, that night was the kind of night where anything was possible. Where dreams come true, or if you're lucky enough, fate is kind to you.

a/n

i wrote this a while ago but i still rly like it :>
also sorry for not updating in so long 😭a LOT has been going on a ha ha
anyway thanks for reading ily

wc: 1170