[Discontinued] The Things Left

17. Fish And Music

» Word count: 2,154 «

There was a spark of something in Wilbur when he pulled away from the hug. He watched the sparkles in his eyes, wondering how they could shine like the stars that began to twinkling above their heads. The subtle sound of the others talking was nice, almost home; almost. It was two years since he last saw his father. Two years he'd never get back, like the two years he wouldn't get back from his pets, with his friends, with everything. And Wilbur looked exhausted, even more than anyone else. He wondered, just for a moment, why that was in detail.

They didn't speak, just taking it all in. Yes, they were standing in front of each other once again. Wilbur with wrinkles and bags Fundy didn't remember. To Wilbur, Fundy didn't look a day older. And slowly, that began to be the case; full of holes as it was.

The night was cold, but gentle. It didn't push them inside, it just made the wind and leaves just twirled around. A show by nature they didn't have time to admire. Time, funny how before they thought they had all the time in the world to be together. Father and son, facing whatever that may come. And funny how that was taken away from them so easily, so quickly. Two years worth of time they would never get back.

Yet, even the future looked grim. After all, there were issues left on the table. There were always issues.

"We don't have to talk if you don't feel like talking," Wilbur started with a smile, rubbing the back of his hands. He had prepared for this talk. Phil had hyped him up, Tommy gave his blessings -whatever that meant-, and Techno was silently pressured for it. Long ago he prepared everything he wanted to say to him. He knew the list by heart; tell him how proud he was, tell him how much he loved him, how much he missed him. How sorry he was. How he shouldn't have ever left him. How he should've confronte Schlatt right away, how that could've prevented everything. He wanted to tell him how he remembered promising a nation for him, how L'manburg was to be his, and how that would never be now. And he could have told him all of that, had his heart been a little stronger for just a little longer.

Fundy didn't reply right away, instead looking up to see the moon and the stars. He remembered admiring them when he was little, standing on Wilbur's lap and not caring about the mud on his boots. Or that thousand other nights where they would just watch, sometimes with a hum of a song, sometimes accompanied by the playful breeze. Nights when he had grown up, and slowly but surely they were drifting apart. When L'manburg became Wilbur's priority, even if it wasn't said outright. He could tell by the way his father would not sleep, planning himself to sleep or walking in circles until the soles of his shoes were worn out. And the hundred discussions with Dream, both sides demanding too much to ever reach a middle ground. He had grown tired of listening to those talks, he didn't know who those two were when they discussed. Those nights were especially lonely, with just the moon and nature as his companion.

On those nights he would look forward to bothering and spending time with Eret. He never liked being alone, and Eret was a friend. The musical hums turned into laughter as they made fun of each other, pushing and shoving with the innocence of life. They would talk of anything and everything. Eret really helped to distract of his neglectful father. Up until the point of betrayal.

He should go talk to him, for the old times.

Like him, his father was also a good man; at some point. Trying to pinpoint when it all changed was pointless. It was so long ago. He could've let go, and he should have.

"Let's go fishing," he said, looking away from the sky to see him. In the limited light Wilbur's tiredness and age became more apparent, more obvious.

"Fishing? Fishing. Fishing! Yes! Let's do that!"

For a second he saw the father he admired before, the one he looked up to when he still couldn't control his fox transformation. The man so eager to spend time, who would throw away everything just to be together. Yes, even the gleam in his eyes and smile was like looking back in time. He smiled fondly of the memory, watching him look through his inventory to see if he had all the materials they needed. A clumsy man, he remembered that too. The items were everywhere, but there was madness in the disaster. And he got that from him.