Chapter Text
Wilbur remembers that day. He remembers it all too well. He promised Tommy he'd find him. That one day they'd meet again. That he'd get to see the only light in his life. That he'd see his little sunshine. He feels guilty sometimes. Guilty that he hasn't found him yet. Sometimes he thinks he should give up on looking, then he remembers what they'd both gone through.
They were put into foster care when Wilbur was 9, Tommy being 6. Tommy asked him where their parents were (if they could even be called parents). Wilbur just said that their bad people and they should be going somewhere better. They didn't.
After only a few years of being in the system, Wilbur was called a special case. He isn't surprised why, maybe it's because he was angry all the time. Maybe it's when they found him bleeding with a knife in his hand as he stood in a bathroom, taking sharp, unsteady breaths. He'd never done therapy, or counselling.
Tommy was always a ball of joy. Buzzing with energy. Wilbur was the complete opposite. A sad sack teenager who was barely hanging onto life. Maybe opposites did attract.
He feels the only reason he hasn't killed himself is because of Tommy. Maybe that's why he keeps searching for him. Or at least he used to before he before 19.
Two people came to the care home one day, a man and a woman. They seemed like your typical suburban couple. Then they said they wanted to adopt Tommy. Just Tommy. Not Wilbur and Tommy. And Wilbur's heart broke. The first thing Tommy asked was why can't Wilbur come. All they said was they didn't want him. And Tommy cried, screamed and yelled at them to let Wilbur go. Then the man, most likely the father, slapped Tommy.
When Wilbur told the woman who worked at the care home she rolled her eyes, saying he was a liar and that he should just let Tommy go. Let him go with a better family.
Tommy sobbed into Wilbur's arms, Wilbur just whispering soft reassurances into Tommy's ear. He told him to be the way he had always been. Tommy nodded. He was 14, Tommy being 11.
It's been 5 years since then, he's 19 and he lives in a shitty apartment and works the graveyard shift at a café. It was a small café and honestly Wilbur didn't understand why the hours were so long. Or why his boss always made him work the late shift, probably because he just didn't like Wilbur. Which he understood.
So Wilbur now finds himself alone in a empty café. Dishevelled hair that kept falling past his eyes that he kept pushing back and dark brown eyes that were dull. He would be scrubbing some dishes he had forgot to do earlier, rubbing his eyes occasionally too keep himself from falling asleep. He just be idly scrubbing away, being as rough with the sponge as possible to get it pristine.
As he was scrubbing the bell of the door would go, which startled him as he visible flinched. Then he'd freeze the moment he looked up.
One well known thing was the world was separated into two sides, heroes and villains. The main group of villains being named 'The Syndicate'. It consisted of some of the largest villains in L'manburg, the main three being Zephyrus, Protesilaus and Apollo. They were well-known due to the fact if they were ever in a fight, they would always be together.
Now what Wilbur did not expect was for three of the biggest villains to be in his café.
He'd look at the three villains, they would be stood there. Dead silent. His eye would catch onto Apollo, who was stood there in absolute shock as if he'd seen a ghost.
"..Wilbur?" Apollo would whisper, which made Wilbur tense.
"How do you know-" Wilbur would being to say, his words being cut off by Apollo.
"I-I.. Um- It's on your nametag!" Apollo would stutter, pointing at it.
"O-Okay?..." Wilbur would respond, nervously tapping his leg against the ground.
Zephyrus would then speak up, asking. "May we order some drinks?"
And Wilbur froze, that was.. not what he expected to hear. He'd be frozen again.
"Hello? You good?" He'd hear Protesilaus ask, startling him out of his shock.
"O-Oh, um yeah. What are you after?" He'd respond, pulling out a notebook to write down the order. His hands shaking slightly.
"Three coffees." Zephyrus would say, before Apollo would butt in.
"I want a hot chocolate."
Wilbur would quickly write it down, nodding and walking to the coffee machine. Starting on the hot chocolate first. He could hear the villains take a seat at the table closest to the counter, which may have made him panic a bit more.
He'd be nervously bouncing his leg up and down, hands shaking slightly as he carefully made the hot chocolate. He felt like he was being watched so when he turned around to look who was watching him he did not expect Apollo's head to turn around so fast that it would probably give him whiplash.
Wilbur would work on the coffee's next, deciding to attempt to draw something in the coffee. He ended up with a misshapen cat, which was better than nothing in his opinion.
He'd carefully place the drinks on a tray, cautiously carrying it to the table.
"Here's your drinks." He'd say, slowly placing the tray on the table. He dropped some earlier on and doing that to some of the largest villains in L'manburg would most likely end up with him six feet under and as suicidal as he is, he would like to live.
He'd walk back behind the counter, then being stopped by Apollo again.
"Wilbur?"
"Yes?"
"...it's nice, thanks."
Wilbur would be frozen a moment, then saying.
"Welcome?"
He'd quickly walk off, going to wash the dishes again. He'd be scrubbing as hard as he could against the dishes. It seems he wasn't paying any attention to the time as his thoughts were cut off by chairs scraping again the floor and Zephyrus placing ten pounds on the counter and an extra five.
He'd go to give the five pounds over but was quickly stopped by Zephyrus pushing it back into his hand.
"Keep it."
Next thing he knows the villains had left the cafe and he was left alone. Again.