Bang and Burn Oneshots: Tales from the Agents of Forte

I'll be Home For Christmas

Reading Requirement: All of Bang and Burn 1

Characters: Wilbur, two new characters! 

TW: None! 

When Wilbur played his guitar, he felt happy. Alive. Free. Ever since he was rescued from Illumina's reign of terror, he turned to music to help himself recover from all of the mental scars he had acquired. Clay had taken him to Forte's counselor, Agent Callahan, to help him heal, and Callahan mentioned that Wilbur should take up a hobby of some sort. Music quickly became his new passion. His escape.

So now, here he was, playing for tips in a coffee shop two days before Christmas. It didn't pay much at all, but Clay told him to focus on moving on before focusing on finding a job. While working for Illumina wasn't a healthy environment, it at least paid enough to allow him to pay his rent. Now, he felt that he was nothing more than a leach who was sucking money out of his friends. They each offered to pitch in a little money every month to help him stay in his apartment, but he still hated having to take their money. They had already helped him so much, he felt guilty taking anything else from them.

When he finished his song, a few people in the shop clapped, the loudest of them being Phil. The two had met when Wilbur was being interviewed at Forte after Illumina's death. Phil sat in during one of the interviews, then offered to take Wilbur out for a drink afterwards. Despite being only eight years older than Wilbur, Phil declared himself his dad. Wilbur didn't dare object. Not only did he like having a new friend, Tommy explained that Phil was everyone's dad. Whether he liked it or not, Agent Philza was now Agent Dadza.

Wilbur propped his guitar up on the stool beside his microphone stand, grabbed his tip jar, and left his small stage to join Phil at his table. "How much did you make tonight?" Phil asked.

Wilbur peeked into his jar and shuffled some coins around. "Looks like six dollars and maybe, like, eighty-something cents."

Phil pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet and shoved it into the jar. "Well, now it's twenty-six dollars and eighty-something cents!"

Wilbur shook his head and fished the twenty out of the jar. "Phil, no. I can't take this from you. We've talked about this."

"Just take the money, Wil."

"No!"

"At least let me buy you something to drink! Please?"

Wilbur groaned and rubbed his face. "If I say yes, will you take the rest of your money back?"

"Only if you promise me to get whatever you want. Don't look at the price tag. Get yourself a muffin, too, while you're at it!"

Wilbur rolled his eyes. "Okay, Badboyhalo. Whatever you say." He stood up from the table and made his way to the line in front of the register. As he waited, he looked at the counter, dressed with red and green trim. The bright twinkling lights hanging from the ceiling gave the trim a brilliant, golden shine. As beautiful as it was, it didn't give Wilbur the holiday spirit he had lacked for weeks. This was the first year that he couldn't afford to go home for Christmas and he was devastated. His friends offered to pay, but he wouldn't feel right taking their money. He'd rather sit at home and do nothing than spend his holiday overseas, costing his friends thousands of dollars.

When it was his turn to order, Wilbur quickly scanned the menu, spotting the cheapest coffee option he could find. "I'll take a small coffee, please." As much as he hated the bitter taste the bland, flavorless coffee provided, he refused to spend too much.

The teenager behind the register smiled. "That'll be $3.15!" As she waited for his receipt to print, she asked, "Aren't you the guy that sings here?"