· Connecting ·

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***

Sophie's POV

***

"Oh no. No, no, no, no- Help me, help me, help me!"

"Stop shouting!"

"I can't! I'm dying!"

Wilbur laughs as I frantically move his computer mouse about the mouse pad, desperately trying to run away from a spider in Minecraft. They are way too quick.

"Wilbur, help me, for god's sake! Stop laughing. It's not funny"

I run through the woods and groan in frustration when I run into a random tree, slowing myself down. I turn around and come face to face with the spider. Its red eyes stare at me as it jumps, attacking me. I let out another shout and Wilbur rolls his eyes, smiling as he takes over the mouse and keyboard.

I sit back in Will's spare office chair and run a hand through my hair feeling distressed. Minecraft is weird and scary and I don't like it.

"You are so dramatic," Wilbur laughs, shaking his head as he successfully kills the spider with his blue looking sword. I think he mentioned it was diamond earlier.

"I hate spiders!" I protest. "Plus, you didn't even give me a warning"

"In my defence, I didn't know you were this clueless about Minecraft"

I pull a face and stick my tongue out at Will. He ignores me and logs out of the server, turning his PC off afterwards.

"Will?"

"What?"

"I'm hungry"

"So? What do you want me to do about it?"

"Feed me!" I whine.

Wilbur rolls his eyes but grins afterwards, pulling his phone from his pocket.

"What do you want? We can order in some food"

***

Forty-five minutes later, the doorbell rings and Wilbur puts his guitar down to go answer it. I continue to draw in my sketchbook, pulling the sofa blanket around my shoulders as the news plays on the living room TV. Wilbur's a big fan of the news and everything boomer-ish these days.

I sneeze and sigh when my hand slips, marking a large hard lead line down the page. I look at my ruined picture and sigh again, tearing the sheet off my sketchbook to start again.

"Food's here," Wilbur announces, walking into the living room carrying boxes of fried chicken.

I put my sketchbook down and decide to start over later. Right now, I only have eyes for the glorious pieces of golden brown fried poultry sitting on the coffee table in front of me.

"I'll go get napkins. What do you want to drink?"

"Water please," I reply.

Wilbur leaves and I take the sofa blanket off my shoulders, getting ready to eat. I'm pretty hungry.

Wilbur comes back with paper napkins, a tall glass of ice water and his favourite drink, a Vodka lemonade.

"Thanks," I smile, taking the water from his hands.

Wilbur sits down and we start to eat, talking through our day as the news plays softly in the background. For the first time since I've been here at Wilbur's house, I feel more connected to him.

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