12/25/20 | 2k words
-Wilbur-
"Y'know we gotta talk to dad about this, right?" Daves voice startled me.
"Hm?" I hummed. Of course I knew what he was talking about, and of course he knew I knew what he was talking about. There wasn't much else I would've had to speak about to our father, I never have anything very exciting to report.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about." He deadpans.
I shrug.
"You're lucky the teachers didn't come. God, you could've gotten expelled." Apparently he doesn't want to drop this topic. He's scolding me like a mother would (I assume, dont have much to reference off of.)
The walk from school had been so peaceful so far, nothing but us and the pleasant sound of birdsong. Apparently David had different plans though, he always has different plans. I know he wants whats best for me, but I can't help but wish he'd fuck off. I dont need my dad to know I'm failing four of my classes and defected school property or something Wilbur-like I'd do.
"You can't just brush this stuff off. Please talk to him, Wil." Hes staring at me pleadingly. I only give him a mere glance. Whats the point? What will Phil do? Therapy? We know that doesn't work, we already tried after the infamous 'accident'. Im still a freak. I'm unfixable.
Dave seems to read my mind. We both know Phil is powerless against my behavior, I'd personally much rather like if he'd just ignore it, if I'm being completely honest.
he looked straight ahead again. "I just worry whats gunna happen after I graduate, Wilbur. I won't always be here to clean up your messes." He sighs.
How sad is it that your older brother has to always make sure you don't end up killing someone? (Or yourself, if you really think about it.) Humiliating, right?
I only give a nod. I don't have anything to say that would please David, I know he'd never tell father about my crimes himself. He wants me to do it, trust my moral compass or whatever. All bullshit when you take in the fact that I've never seemed to have been able to do such a thing, doubt I'd start now. This time its different, though. I usually feel bad for the things I do (Not enough for me to apologize, or for me to do it again.) but enough that I think about it and am upset for the person I've become. But this time I can't feel bad. I won't. That asshole deserved it, my big brother leaves to take a piss for five minutes and that twink thinks its the perfect opportunity to fuck with me. (I didn't actually even mean to hit him, it was a split second decision. He touched me and I freaked out, oops.)
Im not gay or anywhere on that spectrum, I even have a girlfriend! (Not really, its more of just our families shipping us from a young age.) but it still counts for something. Anyway, what I'm trying to get at is that I wouldn't have said yes to the guy anyway. I don't know what those guy's fascinations with my non existent homosexuality came from, and I dont even want to ask at this point.
We reach our home. I always loved our house, a nicely sized white one located on a quiet enough street. I can't help but notice the big ass moving truck parked in our driveway. Two men are stepping out of it, handling a comically sized tv.
"The neighbors still haven't got all their shit in yet?" I winkle my nose in dismay. When we moved, I remember it not taking this long. These motherfuckers have been at it for weeks. Or, uh, I suppose maybe just like, three days. But still. God.
"Apparently not." David snorted.
A grey Toyota is in the neighbors driveway, occupying the space where the moving truck could have sat. I wonder where our car is, I assume dad is out. Great. Brother dearest and I make our way across the little sidewalk path to our home, I can't help but feel a sudden, unshaking urge to kick over a garden gnome on the lawn holding up a sign reading "WELCOME." I always hated the thing. I push away the urge and wait for David to open the door, once doing so we both step inside.
While I'm kicking off my shoes, Daves studying a note in which was taped to the stairwell pillar only a few feet infront of the door. I come up behind him to read whatever could possibly be on the paper, it has a twenty dollar bill tapped onto it. It also reads;
Hello, I've taken the boys out. We'll
be back by around four thirty-ish.
Please order in something in the mean
time :)
-Dad
Theres also something a little off to the side of the writing, a very messily written 'hi'. The ' H ' is backwards and the writing appears to be in red crayon. I assume my little brother helped out with the note, too. How nice.
"Ah, man. This is great. We should, order in McDonalds or something." Dave grins at me.
I mean, I do like filling myself up with absolute garbage. I smile back, it probably looks awkward and ungenuine, but I dont know how else to smile, I just want to reciprocate the grin.
"Cool," He says, giving a little nod.
"Cool." I reply.
We just sort of stand there now, Dave has his hands in his pockets. I'm just sort of- there.
"Can we watch the diary of a Wimpy kid movies again?" Dave gives me a hopeful smile. I nod, a small genuine and maybe not awkward smile forms on my lips. He hoots, running past me and into the living room. Davids always loved the Diary of a Wimpy kid movies (minis the 4th one, we dont fuck with that shit.) despite how big and bulky he is, hes truly a child at heart.
I amble after him. The living room is only a short walk away as our house is built sort of like a circle really, just going around the staircase, no actual rooms on the first floor if you think about it. Our house is pretty fucking nice, nicer than our old one anyway. Here everything is a white, marble kitchen tiles, nice hardwood floors, the good stuff. You may be wondering how we could afford such a thing, well, so many people in our family passed over the past 10 or so years we could've boughten anything really. (grandpa was loaded.) We moved a few months after Tommy was born, guess daddy didn't want his youngest son to be fucking poor.
Davids already hopped onto our light grey L-shaped sofa, clicking on our Roku TV and fumbling to get to Disney+. He tosses me his the phone as I settle next to him.
"Could you order while I turn it on?" He asks.
The device is already switched on to uber eats, how thoughtful.
•••
My crimes of the day have seemed to already have been forgotten. Which I'm thankful for, don't get me wrong. I love seeing David at ease, it can't help but make me relax too. But I can't get the new kid out of my mind. Not in a-- lovey sort of way, just, I don't know why he got sucked into their group. He seemed so nice, too. And then he fucked with me for absolutely no reason, thats what everyone does. They mess me up, and when I try to defend myself I get in trouble. I hate seeing the look of distraught in my families eyes as I tell them what happened, the disappointment and confusion shadowing my dads face as he wonders what to do with me, how to fix me. I'm sure I look like I don't care, like it doesn't bother me one bit, but in all honesty; its fucking unbearable. Listening to him on the phone with his friend, whine about how unfair life treats him. I never really stop to think about my dads feelings, those thoughts just make me upset.
My gaze drifts to David, He has his feet pulled up onto the couch, the tip of his foot just barely sticking out from under him, huddled up against me. He's hyper fixated on the screen, watching Zachary Gordon get up to his crazy shenanigans on the big TV. Every often he'll pop a chicken nugget in his mouth. I dont know where I'll be without him once he graduates, hes the only thing keeping me from spilling over the edge. Sure, I like Tommy 'n Dad and all but do they really get me? No. David gets me, hes able to see the full picture in situations, know (and care about) MY thoughts when times get tough. He can see the logic behind what I do and not that big mean Wilbur just likes to cause havoc for fun.
"Are you watching Wil?"
Dave is staring at me, his gaze soft, the smallest smile on his lips. I nod and look away. I know that tone so well, its nothing but sympathy. I dont need sympathy.
...
(that is a lie.)
"Yeah."
