loverboy- schlattbur oneshots {discontinued}

new years

an: hi :) thank you all for so many reads! it's so amazing. sorry for the little break i went on- but i'm back.

this is also a bit of a longer chapter :)

prompt: since covid, wilbur had no one to celebrate new years with. so he called up a good friend.
category: fluff

wilbur clutched the plane ticket in his hand, sweat gathering in his palm.

just a week ago, he had facetimed schlatt with an impatient question.

"schlattttyyyy" he drew out schlatt's name once he answered, purposely being annoying. but he also wanted to draw an amusement feel to the call, so it didn't seem serious or awkward.

all that was seen was schlatt's forehead, and various curls of deep, dark brown hair. wilbur was almost hypnotized by it.
how could one human be so perfect?

"what do you want, wilbur soot?" he asked, annoyed. "dont call me..." he paused, recalling whatever wilbur just called him. "whatever the fuck that was."

wilbur couldn't help but laugh, his lips curling upward. "okay, okay. but i had a question for you."

"no i'm not going to play minecraft with you." schlatt sighed, his eyes peeking from the bottom of the screen.

"i wasn't going to ask that." wilbur pouted, jokingly.

"that's what you always ask." schlatt raised an eyebrow, but it was followed by a series of giggles. "go ahead, you absolute weirdo." schlatt then frowned, his usual concerned-bit look.

wilbur paused for a moment, debating how to word his next sentence.
"would you like to spend new years with me?" he asked, and once he finished the question, wilbur pursed his lips to hide any visible emotion in his face.

schlatt began to cackle.
"you want me to spend new years with you?" schlatt asked, and revealed his whole face, which was smiling.

wilbur shrunk a little. judging by the laugh and the smile, he was sure schlatt was going to say no, make fun of him, and hang up. and he would go back to mindlessly strumming guitar strings and streaming with no meaning.

after seeing no 'no, i didn't mean that' or protest from wilbur, schlatt continued.
"sure. i'd love to."

a quick and excited smile immediately bloomed across wilburs face. anything that was curling up in fear inside him was unraveling.

"but-" schlatt began, holding his pointer finger out. "i'm not going to fucking england. you're coming here, bitch."

"eughhhh no-"

and here wilbur was, standing in a line to board a plane to schlatt.

(i would say new york but i'm not sure if he lives there? just assume he lives in new york)

his mask strapped on tight, fist clutched over his suitcase. it was clutched so hard whites of his light-tan knuckles began to seep through the pigment of his skin.
he unclutched his hand and handed the flight attendant his ticket, which he was sure was sweaty. he cringed a little inside, embarrassed if it was.
but the lady scanned the ticket, and after the light beneath the scanner flashed green, she nodded and gave wilbur the go-ahead. he began to walk forward, crossing the bridge that connects the entrance of the plane to the airport gateway.