Hey Wilbur ~ Schlattbur

Hey Wilbur

It had been four months since they'd talked. Four months since they'd sat in that call that changed everything. Four months since Wilbur had poured his heart out and Schlatt had had to make the choice between letting him in and pushing him away.

He chose wrong.

Not a single day went by that he didn't feel the regret of that decision weighing on his mind like a block of lead. He was such a coward. Too afraid of the consequences if he let himself go and gave in to what he wanted. Too proud to take it back once it was said and done.

Nights like this were a regular occurrence. Laying in bed staring blankly at the ceiling and letting his thoughts take over. Sometimes he cried. Sometimes he was just numb. Every night he suffered the repercussions of that stupid choice. He lost everything. 

He knew he hurt him. He hadn't been kind. It was as if hearing those words that he thought he wanted more than anything else in the world had set off some kind of primal defence mechanism in his brain. Don't say yes. Don't give in. People can't know. No one can ever know. Not even him. Especially not him.

He hated it. The way he felt about this part of himself. The way his mind pushed it back into the darkest corners where it couldn't be heard, couldn't be seen, couldn't get to him, couldn't hurt him. He hated it. 

He wished he was normal. Why did he have to feel like this? What did he do to deserve it? He just wanted it to stop. He didn't want to hurt anymore, he wanted to be normal. Was that so much to ask?

But as much as it hurt, he couldn't deny that the thoughts of what it would be like if he'd chosen better made him endlessly happy. It always started with him telling the truth, saying yes, reciprocating Wilbur's heartfelt ramble. And they'd be so happy because they felt the same and they would stay on the call and talk for hours about when they first realised and the things that made each other so special.

Wilbur could've come and visited him in New York and he could've gone to London and they'd show each other around and hold hands and get dinner and sleep in the same bed. And maybe one day they would've moved in together - he didn't know which country they'd pick but he didn't think it really mattered as long as they had each other. They would spend every minute together and, God, they would be so happy.

Four months. He couldn't take it anymore. It was purely an impulse. He ran to the back of his mind and took that little thing from its dark corner and he pushed it right to the front. Everything was trying to stop him, grabbing at his arms and legs to slow him down but he couldn't let them win. He had to make it stop.

He snatched his phone up and frantically scrolled through his message list until he landed on the chat that had been lying dormant for so long. He didn't really think about what he was typing; he just knew he had to be fast before he could change his mind.

His thumb stalled over the button. Was this really what he wanted? He couldn't undo it once it was said. What if he made it worse? His breath was quick and his heart was beating so loud he could hear the rhythmic thump in his ears.