It's written on his arm. ✔

X: the brightest star in the sky.

(Trigger warnings: mentions of previous death and grief.)

It was late in the evening, nearing 12pm at least, when Wilbur finally gathered the guts to knock at the door. He'd be lying to himself if he said he hadn't been pacing his own bedroom for the last twenty minutes, practiced conversations hushed in a quiet breath. Realistically, he knows that nothing would go terribly wrong, but the nerves still spiked within him anyway.

'Come in!' Tommy called out, voice ever so slightly slurred from tiredness. If he hadn't known Tommy, he would have assumed the teenager would be passed out by now, exhaustion consuming the usual capability to stay up until the sun could rise again. However, he did know Tommy, and that was the only reason he wasn't shitting himself at the idea of optionally having this conversation.

'Hey,' he whispered, pushing open the door completely and leaning against the frame. Wilbur frowned when he noticed the lumps of paper on his bed, Tommy's hands flicking mindlessly through them. 'Tommy, why are you working this late? It's past 12...'

'Meh.' The teenager struggled without so much as a glance upwards. 'You work much later than I do, anyway.'

'No-'

'You do.' Tommy spoke smugly. Little fucker- 'I know you do.'

'I am not a good example.' Wilbur eventually settled on, taking steps closer and roughly collecting a pile.

Unceremoniously, he plonked the papers down on his desk, lingering around it for a tad too long. Wilbur attempted to gather his thoughts, unsure of the best way to start the conversation. Tommy had every right to be angry, he'd hidden something from him that caused his brother to get hurt. Yet, his brother seemed ecstatic at the mention of his soulmate, and Wilbur couldn't remember seeing any emotion often than elation.

'You know, at first I was a little hurt.' Tommy began, clearly catching onto Wilbur's hesitation. He turned around at the teenagers words, placing just enough emotion in his expression for it to not seem suspicious. 'I couldn't understand what or why you'd hide something from me, especially when it involved guards hanging around our house.'

Tommy stopped, lifting his head from staring at his cushion and glancing at Wilbur. He had been expecting a look of disappointment, anger, frustration, anything but amusement and a sense of relief.

'I honestly don't know how I didn't notice them.' The teenager continued with a laugh, pointing unconsciously to the closed curtains. 'Guess that's what I get for not opening my curtains.'

'I'm sorry, Toms.' Wilbur started, taking a seat on the bed. 'I should have let you know what was happening. I just-'

'- wanted the best for me, I know.' A sigh emitted from the teenager as he leaned further against the bed's headboard. 'I understand, doesn't mean I like it though.'

'I don't regret it.' He said suddenly, catching Tommy off guard. 'Although it wasn't the best decision this time round, I'll always try my best to do what I can for you. No matter what.'

'I don't want that though.' Tommy said instantly, eyes looking deep into his. 'I'm not asking you to dismiss those protective instincts of yours, but please, don't do anything just because of me. Promise me that?'

'I can't, Tommy,' he watched the teenager deflate, but it wasn't a surprise for either of them. 'I love you too much for that.'

'I know you do, fucking sentimental bastard.'