Chapter Text
Little eleven year old Wilbur has a good life.
He does, truly.
He has a big house, parents, siblings, meals.
Everything anyone could ask for.
Everything anyone should ask for, and nothing more.
A small bed in a small room that doubles as the furnace room. Meals that could be considered healthy and, based on the portions, possible intermittent fasting. Two siblings that he would do absolutely anything for. A mother and a father who… they’re great. Really. They are.
Mother and Father let them eat fresh food scraps from the table if he’s good and gets the chores done. And if Wilbur tends to all his duties and is done in time to play their favorite song so they can dance together then he is allowed to sleep in his actual room instead of in the furnace room.
Usually Wilbur can pull the weight of doing all the chores. His brothers shouldn’t have to do the chores. He let’s them help if they want to, of course, but he tends to just take the brunt of the work. He can get it all done faster that way. Extra chores or preparing food or steaming Mother’s dresses with an iron that’s met his hand one too many times, those are never too much of a struggle. But today, today feels different and… strange.
He knows he should already be upstairs cleaning and dusting, he knows that at this point there’s no way he can finish before dinner and that old leftovers or a fasting period are in his future, but he also knows the distinct sound of his father’s footsteps. They’re calculated and stern, always heavy with how he walks on his heels. Mother’s footsteps are dainty and light and oh-so cold, like a ballerina made of ice.
The footsteps above him though, they’re unfamiliar. They stay in one relative area, but Wilbur can read a thousand things from the way the person moves. Their steps are light and airy like Mother’s but commanding and assertive like Father’s. The shoes they wear are wooden, he can tell because they clack instead of slam. What he assumes though, is that it’s a man, or someone of masculine build. He only assumes because of the way the boards creak. The boards never creak when Mother stands on them. Wilbur unconsciously holds his breath.
So, someone new is in the house.
He should warn his brothers.
Wilbur crawls away from his little makeshift bed and towards the vent in the corner of the room. He half-heartedly wipes his soot-coated hands on his trousers then squeezes his way into the vent. Luckily, the lack of proper nutrition allowed him to still be skinny enough to worm his way through the vents. A very efficient form of travel when you don’t want to be found.
As Wilbur crawls and climbs throughout the vents, he pauses just as he passes by the main hallway vent. He can only really catch a glimpse of the man standing by the front door. His clothes are a mix of greens and white and he’s wearing some kind of wooden sandals. The man is blonde and has some kind of weird backpack… thing, and a suitcase.
The suitcase is what sets Wilbur into action.
If this man is staying then he definitely needs to warn his siblings. Mother and Father’s guests are never to know they exist. Rule Four.
Wilbur has known the rules since before he could even properly write. They’d been ingrained into him since four years of age.
Rule One: Do anything that Mother or Father ask
Rule Two: Never refuse Father or Mother’s requests no matter the situation
Rule Three: Keep the furnace alight at all times
Rule Four: Never interact with new people inside the house, especially if they’re guests of Mother and Father’s.
Rule Five: Be silent in the house. Do not bother Mother and Father
Rule Six: NEVER. NEVER. NEVER leave the house without express permission from Mother or Father
The rules were simple. Wilbur understood them.
He just wishes he could get his brother’s to understand.
Techno is the same age as Wilbur. They were, of course, twins at birth. They’re inseparable in every way. Though, Wilbur has always been the more… submissive of the two. Techno didn’t like the rules and decided early on that he’d rather fight and stab things than have to do anything that Mother and Father say. But it’s okay, because Wilbur is happy to pick up Techno’s chores so his twin doesn’t have to face punishment.
Tommy is similar to Techno. The small eight year old also refuses to do chores, but Wilbur will happily take the child’s. Though, he also refuses to even acknowledge over half of the rules even exist. Tommy is loud and excitable. The child practically bounces off the walls every second of every day. Wilbur covers for Tommy as best he can. He doesn’t mind the punishments, as long as Tommy doesn’t have to have them he’s content.
Though, even if his siblings refuse to acknowledge the rules, Wilbur warns them of the newcomer anyways.
Wilbur silently sticks his head out of the vent in his and Techno’s shared room, nearly scaring the latter half to death.
Techno’s braided pink head whips around to face him as the elder twin nearly drops the book he was reading. The pinkette huffs as he realizes it’s only his brother.
“Wilbur, how many times do I have to tell ya? If you come in through the vents you could at least knock! What do you even need? C’mere I don’t usually get to see you during the mornings.”
Wilbur rolls his eyes with a grin, but makes no move to get out of the vent. “Can’t Techie, important crimeboy messaging service duties.”
Techno’s smug smile shifts into a concerned frown. “W-why? Did something happen? Are you being-”
Wilbur quickly shakes his head, but doesn’t drop his grin. “No, no, not a punishment or anything but… Mother and Father have a guest. Some weird green man. He has a suitcase and everything so he’ll probably be staying for a while. I just wanted to warn you cause Rule Number-”
Techno groans. “Yes Wilbur, I know Rule Number Four. You know I’ll respect it, for your sake, but Tommy…”
Wilbur sighs. “Yeah, I know. Can you.. can you just try and help with him? Maybe if we keep him distracted the entire time-”
“Wilbur, he’s going to notice an entirely new person in his own house. He might be a little gremlin of a child, but he isn’t stupid.”
The brunette grumbles, but says nothing in response. Simply backing his way out of their room and crawling towards Tommy’s vent. He can just barely hear the faint sound of cartoons coming from the little boy’s room. Wilbur takes a deep breath before poking his head through the vent.
“Toms, I have to-”
Wilbur takes a glance around the room. The small TV is playing some random cartoon that Wilbur doesn’t know the name of. Clothes and toys are scattered about on the floor, as well as a few empty cans of Dr. Pepper. What scares Wilbur the most though isn’t the cardboard cutout of Queen Elizabeth. It’s the distinct lack of a certain eight year old, a stuffed cow, and the wide open door that let’s the voices from the main hallway float up the stairs to meet his ears.
“Hello young man, and what’s your name? Mine is Philza.”
Wilbur’s heart seizes in his chest.
Rule Four.
The brunette quickly squeezes his way out of the vent and tries to land as softly as he can while falling onto the hardwood floor. He staggers as he pushes his way out of Tommy’s room and quickly, but softly, knocks on his and Techno’s door.
As soon as the door swings open Wilbur throws himself into the room and pulls the door shut behind him, no longer particularly caring if it slams a little too loud as the panic in his chest works its way into his throat. He blankly registers the hands on his shoulders as he slides to the ground and pulls his knees to his chest.
Rule Four is broken.
Tommy broke Rule Four.
The new man knows they exist.
“Wi-... listen you ne-...”
Mother will blame him and will grab him by his ears and pull him close and chastise him with harsh words and sharp nails that dig into his skin until it breaks.
“..-alm do-...Wilb-..”
Father will throw him into the furnace room again and will take away food privileges and will threaten his guitar and hit him over the head with the paddle, or maybe he’d hit Tommy instead but Wilbur would never let that happen.
“...-perventilating Wil-... breaths. Deep b-..”
And the new man, he could do something too. He might hurt Tommy, or Techno. What if the new man tries to take them away like the last lady did? What if he-
“Wilbur! Come on… it’s okay… just breathe with me, alright?”
Wilbur blinks. Fresh tears fall from his lashes and- when did he start crying? Or shaking? Why does his head hurt? When did Techno’s hands move to his chest and his face? Why is everything so quiet.. Or loud.. Or just.. There? Where’s Tom-
Wilbur sucks in a sharp breath and leans forward into his brother’s hold. Techno’s hand over Wil’s chest shifts, but stays positioned over his heart. His twin lets go of Wilbur’s face and instead rubs his hand down his back in small circles.
“Wilbur I need you to feel me, okay? Do you feel me?”
Wilbur blinks, he shakily nods.
“That’s good. Feel my breaths. Feel my heart.”
Wilbur can feel Techno’s heart. Techno’s not scared. Techno’s not panicking like a child. He can feel Techno’s breaths. They’re slow and steady and Wilbur isn’t… he can’t do that.
“Yes you can Wil. You can. Count with me, okay?”
Wilbur hadn’t realized he’d shaken his head. This time he nods.
“One, Two, Three.”
“O- One, Two... Techie it’s broken- it’s broke-”
“Shhh… keep counting. What’s broken Wil?”
Wilbur buries his head into his twin’s chest and whines. “Four- Rule Four it’s-”
Techno’s hand stills on his back. “Wil… where’s Tommy?”
Wilbur moves his hands to grip into Techno’s shirt as the shaking in his shoulders starts to slow. “Downstairs.. with the guest.. I don’t-”
“No, no, shh shh shh. It’s okay. Just… calm down a bit. I’m sure he’s alright but I can go down there and get him. I’ll stay hidden, I promise.”
Wilbur loosens his grip on Techno. “Please, Please Tech I don’t want him to get hurt. I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want them to take you away. I just want-“
“It’s okay… it’s okay Wil I can go get him and it’ll all be-“
“TECHNOBLADE! WI- what’s his name again, Father? Oh, right, yes. WILLIAM! COME DOWNSTAIRS!”
Their mother’s voice is like cheese graters to a chalkboard. It’s whiny and high pitched and biting.
Though as much as Wilbur wants to stay curled up on the floor in Techno’s arms, Rules One and Two take precedence. So he tiredly shifts out of his twins arms and stands.
Techno is by his side in seconds and keeps a steadying hand on his shoulder. All Wilbur can do is give him a half smile in response as he turns towards the stairs.
Each step feels like he’s walking further and further into his own personal hell. He can practically feel the heat coming from the bottom of the stairs. It could either be coming from the fiery depths of hell itself or his body is just preparing itself to be thrown into the furnace room again. Either way he’s not all too ready to face his parents.
His mind is made up, and Techno will hate him for it later but it’s okay, because he has to take Tommy’s punishment. Techno will understand later. Wilbur knows how his twin gets furious when he chooses to take their punishments but really… he’d rather have Techno hate him than get hurt.
So, as he takes the last step off the stairs with his head lowered and leaning into Techno’s firm grip, he looks at his parents.
Mother is dressed up like always. She would seem naked without her large fur coats and high heels. Wilbur remember when he had to console Tommy and lie as he explained that the fur coats were real animals. They were, of course. Father wouldn’t get Mother anything less than the best. Her nails are also long and sharp as well. He can practically fell them gripping around his arm and digging into his skin.
Father has her in an embrace. He is dressed in a fine suit and his hair is slick with the nasty grease that he’d once tried to tame Wilbur’s hair with. He also has his rifle laying by his feet, along with several bags. Father is staring into Mother’s eyes lovingly, paying no attention to their arrival or to the stranger who still stands by the door.
Wilbur mentally slaps himself as he realizes he forgot to check for Tommy, too busy assessing what kind of threat his parents were posing. The little blonde is sitting next to the stranger, fiddling with the man’s weird backpack thing attached to his back and Henry the stuffed cow with an oblivious smile on his face.
That brings him to look at the stranger. He’s a shorter man, medium blonde hair is tied back in a low bun under the mans green striped bucket hat. The odd stranger is also wearing some sort of green and white robes and, as Wilbur predicted, wooden-sole shoes. The backpack thing that Tommy is messing with is black and almost… feathery? Overall though, he doesn’t look all too threatening. Actually, he looks quite kind. But Wilbur knows better.
It's seconds later that Father finally notices the twins at the bottom of the stairs.
“Ah, boys.” Father starts. If Mother’s voice was cheese graters to a chalkboard, then Father’s was like a low hiss of a viper prepared to strike. Never a time where his words weren’t dripping with venom and spite, except for when speaking to Mother.
Mother turns from her position in Father’s arms and rolls her eyes at them. “Couldn’t bother to clean up before coming to meet our guest, hm?”
Wilbur knows she’s talking about him. It was obvious. Techno was dressed in a fine white dress shirt and black trousers and his hair was brushed and pulled back into a braid. Meanwhile Wilbur was wearing brown trousers with holes and soot on them and his ratty old yellow sweater. So he shrinks back on himself a bit, but not allowed to shift much as Techno’s grip on him stiffens.
“We were rushed Mother, we were making sure to abide by the rules and come quickly.” Techno near-growls.
She simply turns away from them, ignoring the glare that Techno sends her way. “Well boys, our guest is going to be staying here with you while we’re away. We’ll be gone for a.. erm… undetermined amount of time.”
Suddenly the room becomes cold and hot all at once. The hot is the realization that this may not be hell but instead a blessing as the parents would finally be away. But the cold is the realization that this stranger would be with them.
With Mother and Father he can always tell when they’re anger, when not to bother them. Though this new man? He was a wild card.
Mother turns to face the twins again, but this time she makes her way over to them and bends down to look Wilbur in the eye. He can feel Techno attempt to lightly pull him back, but he shakes away the hand and meets Mother’s gaze.
She smiles at him. It isn’t warm or loving. The warm smiles only ever come from Techno or Tommy or the revolutionaries and heroes in cartoons. Mother’s smiles are more like the Cheshire Cat. They are large and blindingly white and full of mischievous intent. But at least it was a smile, not a scowl.
Mother beckons him closer, so he obliges. This is the closest he’s ever been to her in months and he almost can’t resist the urge to bury himself into her fur coat. But he keeps his eyes trained ahead of him as she leans in next to his ear to whisper.
It’s quiet, almost hard to hear even though she is directly next to his ear. But, the threat is clear as day. “Follow the rules little musician, no matter what this man tells you. Follow them or else it’s punishment for all of you.”
He carefully assembles his mask void of emotion and places his hands behind his back so she can’t see them shake. He whispers back, “Yes Mother.”
She pulls away from him still shining her cheshire smile. Then she reaches up and ruffles his hair. Though it’s a little harsh and he can definitely feel the way her nails scratch at his scalp, he wants to lean into it and cherish it. But as soon as the hand is there it’s gone and he has to suppress the whine that’s bubbling up in his chest.
He tries to ignore the way she scowls as she stands and pulls out a sanitizing cloth to wash her hand. He ignores the way Father looks at him like a tool and not a son.
But it’s fine.
It’s fine, it’s definitely fine.
Techno’s hand returns to his shoulder but he finds it hard to care as he puts all his effort into keeping up his facade of no emotion. The panic is building up in his chest again and he can feel the tears wanting to gather at the corners of his eyes again. Gods why can’t he be anywhere else-
“Ahem… err. I don’t believe I introduced myself.”
Wilbur and Techno both turn in sync to face the new man. Tommy barely looks up from where he’s playing, but glances at the man.
“My name is Philza Minecraft and I’ll be your caretaker.”
Wilbur tries to push down the spark of hope that ignites in his stomach as he watches the man. He can’t hope. He has to follow the rules.
But, the man smiles. And it’s warm. It’s warm like a comfortable blanket and hot tea. It’s warm like a hug. It’s warm like… no.
No, he can’t hope. He can’t want that.
He has chores to do.
Wilbur nods to the guest, then walks away towards the furnace room. He has to make sure the fire is still burning. He has to keep the house warm. He has chores to do.