SMP Oneshots

Prove It [w•s]

a request for wilbur and schlatt: 'wilbur moves to the states and his neighbor is schlatt'

main focus: wilbur and schlatt

cw: schlatt

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Wilbur Soot moved to America when he was seventeen. His family telling him that there were just more opportunities there for them. Wilbur thought that was bullshit, he knew this wasn't for him, but didn't say anything. Just put on a smile and packed his bags with the few things he could take.

Eight hours on a flight that made his legs hurt, then four hours in a car to reach a suburbia that he had to call his home now. His father pulled into the driveway, telling Wilbur he could take his stuff inside. He did as he was told, grabbing the only suitcase he had and lugging it out of the vehicle. His mother leaned out the window, explaining to him that they were going to go run a few errands. She handed him a key, telling him that they would be back in a bit. Wilbur didn't say anything back, just stepped away from the car as it backed out of the driveway and started down the street and out of view.

The sun was still in the sky, beating down on his back as he stood outside his house. The air around him was hot and humid, and he slowly regretted not taking off his sweater when they landed. He felt a little odd just standing in the driveway, especially when there were people walking around the neighborhood giving him the occasional questioning look. Sighing, he turned around, walking up to the front door.

He unlocked the door, pushing it open and relieving the inside of the house. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, tossing the key on a table beside the door. The house was furnished, not a lot, just enough that it wasn't empty. It reminded Wilbur of a house in a catalog. He removed his shoes before walking further into the house, trying to find the room that was supposed to be his.

He remembered what his parents told him, that the bedrooms would be on the second floor. Getting his luggage up was a bit difficult, but he managed. The doors to all the rooms were open, making it so he could just poke his head inside each room, quickly finding the room that was probably his.

The rooms were painted a pale blue, had a small bed pushed in the corner. Out of everything in the house, it was perhaps the most empty. The most lonely feeling. Wilbur put his suitcase against the wall, walking over to bed, exhaustion racking his body. He sat down, his eyes slowly drifting over to the wall in front of him where there was a window. The window looked out at the house that neighbored his house. His window mirrored one of the house's own windows. But unlike his, the window was blocked out by sets of curtains, completely shielding the room of the outside room.

Wilbur moved his eyes away from the window as he swung his legs onto the bed. Falling onto his back, he let out a small 'Oof'. His mind was tired, and within near minutes, he was asleep.

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Four days passed after arriving, and both of Wilbur's parents were back to working. His mother from home, and his father working at an insurance company. Wilbur was mostly left alone, trying to find ways to entertain himself. Going on walks, writing down lyric ideas that he would be able to turn into real things. His mind was getting restless.

It was afternoon, around one or two, when Wilbur heard a knock on the front door. He was at the dinner room table, making a list of possible things he could do. He lifted his head up, about to call out to his mom when he remembered she was out. Another knock, this one a bit louder, caused him to stand up from his seat, making his way to the front door.

He sighed as he swung open the door, ready to tell the person that his parents weren't home, that he could give them a message if needed. Instead, he was surprised when he was met with the face of a boy.