A Series of Smokebreaks

Chaper 7

A/n- lol so i kinda disappeared for a while?? sorry bout that but here's a longer chapter as an apology. also the new fundy lore??? the new wilbur lore??? crying sobbing screaming kicking falling down the stairs calling my mom and shitting. like AKDHASJFHAOFIWE. anyhow,,,, enjoy the new chapter which is slightly more coherent than whatever that^ is 

art cred: @/lazedSunni on twt

He ran. He wasn't concerned that anyone would be following him, but running was a much-needed release. The rhythmic thumping of his feet against the dirt did wonders to calm the rushing river of his thoughts. He ran until his lungs couldn't take it anymore, stopping to lean against a tree and catch his breath. He tipped his head back against the trunk, trying to go over the memories of the past night and morning analytically, trying to view them from a professional perspective, but felt the tears slipping from his eyes anyway. 

"Fuck," he whispered, running his sleeve over the tear tracks that stained his cheeks. He couldn't be seen like this. "Pull yourself together, goddamnit," he said louder, "It wasn't like this was a fucking surprise." 

Before he could get any further, a voice rang through the woods. 

"Fath- dad? Dad? Where are you? I've missed you so much?" 

He inhaled sharply. Fundy. Maybe in another scenario he'd be tempted to try and talk, but after the argument this morning he didn't think Fundy was trying to flag him down for a game of catch. He tried to slip away, looking over his shoulder to see if he could spot anybody behind him. 

Ouch. 

He'd put his foot through a rotted log, tripped, and fallen flat on his chest with an almighty WHUMP. He heard voices (plural??) quickly getting closer, catching words every now and then. One specific voice suddenly became much clearer than the rest, twisting through the fog and filled with menace.

"You're dead, Frankenstein."

A flash of heat, and then he was upright again, running for what he supposed was his life. He searched desperately through his mind for a way out of this new predicament. He was good at running, but he couldn't keep up a full sprint like this for too long. His lungs were already burning; he cursed himself for picking up smoking. He could hear the steps behind him drawing closer, accompanied by taunts and jeers. Distracted, he didn't notice the fading trees or the crunch under his feet. He only registered where he was when he noticed faint curls of smoke coming up from behind the snow-covered hills. As he reached the top, he caught the distinctive scent of horse shit and gunpowder emanating from the innocent-looking cottage. 

Techno!

He mounted the fence, pet Carl hello, and slipped into Techno's house. "I don't think he's in,"  Wilbur thought to himself as he quietly shut the door behind him. "I should be fine to hide out here for a wh-"

"Wilbur?"

He froze with his hand still on the latch. 

Plastering his best smile to his face, he spun around and opened his arms welcomingly. "Hey, Techno! Long time no see, huh?" 

"What are you doing in my house?"

"Well, I just thought I'd swing by, see how my favorite brother is doing!" 

He was met with silence and a raised eyebrow.

Turning toward the kitchenette, he rummaged around for a mug amongst mismatched china and the occasional weapon. Prattling on in vain hopes of distracting Techno, he continued with his monologue.