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The breeze is carrying the scent of recently mowed grass and whatever lunch is being cooked in the mess hall today. You pull your legs up underneath you, scratching at the old ant bites on your ankle as you look up through the shading tree above to catch the dappled sunlight on your face. The rest of the campers were playing dodgeball a few meters across from you. Usually the counselors were pretty serious about making everyone participate, so you had to slink away quickly and quietly, finding a nice big tree to tuck yourself under, the shade providing you cover as you people watched. Much like dodgeball, you were never good at talking to people. You found communicating to be hard and clunky and awkward. Your mom insisted it was just a stage of growing up, that your voice would soon fill the space between your mouth and your brain. That's why you were here in the first place, it wasn't your idea, you'd have happily spent the summer in your room reading. The song and dance of socializing was too much to keep up with, but you agreed begrudgingly to your mothers request that you attend this summer camp. At least it would get her off your back for a time. You rest your head on your knees, lulling it to the side in contemplation of the game in front of you when a soft rumble breaks your contented silence.
“You know you're supposed to be playing the games with the other kids.”
your head whips around quickly to see the unmistakable body tied to the voice. Leaned against the tree behind you, arms crossed, looking down at you on the ground, his curly brown hair a mess from the heat and sweat, his cheeks flushed red against the pale of his skin.
“ah, hi wilbur''
you pick at the skin around your fingers as you think about his skin. The expanse of his neck. You'd be lying if you said you hadnt formed a camp crush on him since you've been here, you even started to keep a journal tucked away in the secret compartment of your suitcase. You would write and draw and detail over the deep intricacies of your thoughts about him. The only problem was that he wasn't a camper. He was a counselor. You don't guess it's normal to have these thoughts about someone nearly twice your age.
“Why aren't you playing with the other kids? You always seem to slip away.”
he starts as he finds a place on the ground next to you, folding his long legs underneath himself as he sat down. Your eyes track to his knee as it brushes against yours.
“i'm no good at dodgeball”
He hums in response, looking out at the group of kids and then back to you.
“You know I'll get in trouble if I don't make you go play right?”
you pick at the grass as you nod slowly.
“Yeah I know, I don't want you to be in trouble Wilbur.”
you look back out to the kids to see them cheering and pelting each other, patting each other on the back and helping up the kids who lost balance. You must make a face, because Wilbur stares at you for a moment. you can feel it.
“Hmm, we’ll just have to come up with an excuse then.”
you look up at him and he's giving you a conspiratorial smile. You feel something turn over in your stomach.
“I rolled my ankle”
his smile turns into a smirk.
“You rolled your ankle and now-”
he quickly scoops you into his arms, standing up at the same time. You feel that feeling in your stomach again. It rolls around and you quickly wrap your arms around the back of his neck to keep you from falling as he spins the both of you in circles. His wide smile is infectious, you feel it spread to you as you giggle.
“I just have to carry you everywhere!”
When he stops he's looking up at you in his arms. You've never seen him from this angle, you're glad you have now. you think you need to see him from every angle. You want to write down a list of all the features from each. The freckle under his eye.
“Hey will? Is everything alright?”
you dont notice when his attention turns from you to another counselor, only registering her appearance after she’d spoken.
“Ah yeah, all good”
he puts on a semi convincing smile. You think it might fool her, it doesn't fool you.
“This camper just sprained their ankle, or rolled it. We can't really tell.”
he's good at lying. You need to write that down.
“Ah alright then, you can take them to the nurses cabin if you need, but I'm not sure she can do much but give you pain killers.”
she shrugs
“We don't have any braces”.
Wilbur nods and looks back up to you
“what do you think, kid?”
you study his face for a moment.
“I'm alright, could I just go back to my cabin to rest maybe?”
Wilbur looks to the other counselor who nods, looking back at the kids for a moment.
“Yeah that's no problem, you're welcome to come back out and join us whenever you're feeling better ok?”
you nod. Out of the corner of your eye you see Wilbur's smile.
“I'll bring them back to their cabin and make sure they are all sorted”
he squeezes your thigh and a deep warm sense of satisfaction rolls over you, of safety. You've thought about this before.
During the walk to your cabin Wilbur doesn't put you down. Even when you are out of sight from the rest of the campers and counselors and workers. You don't mention it.
“Cabin 24 right?”
you never told him your cabin number.
“Yeah 24”
When you get through the door he looks around the room. He's still holding you, even when he struggled to open the door. You don't mention it.
“Which ones your bed, sweets?”
His voice is softer now. Maybe it's that he doesn't have to yell over the other kids. You bite hard into your cheek. You'd never heard him sound like that before.
“That one”
you point to a bottom bunk with soft pink sheets, small gold stars smattered across it, a little brown bear on the pillow. He laughs as he lowers you down onto the bed, leaning over you after he's done so, playfully cocking his head.
“Aren't you a bit old for sheets like these?”
you watch as he crumples the duvet in his large hand, smoothing his fingers over the fabric. His wrists are covered in bracelets given to him by the countless other campers with crushes on him. You think you should feel some way about that. You don't.
“I haven't changed them since I was seven.”
you watch his face relax slightly as he gently rubs his thumb over one of the little stars. His breathing has changed.
“Wilbur”
his head snaps back up to you.
“Why do some people call you will, but others call you wilbur?”
he hums and moves away from you, sitting down on the foot of your bed, crumpled over himself to stop from hitting his head on the top bunk.
“Mostly its just my colleagues that call me will..”
he picks up the bear from your bed. You don't usually let people do that. You like that he's touching it though. That it's his hands. You feel a comforting and slow release of control wash over you.
“I think Wilbur is cuter.”
he finishes, squishing the bear's stomach between his hands. You nod, reaching your hand out for the bear,
“it is”.
He looks at your hand for a moment and then back up to your face with something like worry before he swallows hard and puts the stuffed animal into your open hand, standing up and running a hand through his hair. You feel a fuzzy feeling wash over you as he turns to go.
“i-i’ll see you around kid”
you hum softly as you pull your legs up into your chest and hold the bear close to your heart. His hand rests on the doorknob for a second. Two. a moment. He's stuttering.
“I know it's hard for you to get along with the kids your age.”
he misunderstands, it's hard for you to get along with anyone.
“But if you need someone to talk to, I'm in cabin 13.”
he looks at you for a moment, as if expecting something, then turns the handle and disappears out the door. You feel yourself drifting into sleep. Wilbur. 13. You should write that down.
You don't know what time it is when you wake up. You only know that it's dark. You feel a panic creep in when you look around and see your other bunkmates fast asleep in their beds, the only light in the room being the moonlight pouring in through the sheer green curtains near your bed. How could you have let yourself sleep so long? You had missed lunch. No one bothered to wake you? The panic built as you sat up in your bed, trying to control your breathing, you didn't need anyone to wake up and find you hyperventilating in your bed. These kids barely know you. You slip your feet to the floor and realize with a start that you are still in your outside clothes. How did you let yourself get in your bed with them on? You can't breathe as you navigate your way to the door, unlocking it as quietly as you can before twisting the door knob completely and slowly, opening the door and closing it behind you the same way. You were out, alone, past dark. This was against the rules. You were breaking the rules. You could feel the skin of your teeth buzz with adrenaline as you moved through the campgrounds semi blind, lit only by the moon above as the skin of your bare feet protested against the sharp gravel of the paths. You felt your pulse quicken as you stood in front of the door and knocked. Two times. Two sets of four. Silence. Your heart thrumed against your ears. Surely he could hear it through the door. You hear the knob jostle and feel your heartbeat quicken even more. You think you might be sick.
“..yea?”
The door is only partially cracked open when you hear his raspy voice call out. You must have woken him. Your chest rises and falls quickly as you look up at him.
“what time is it?”, you rush out.
he rubs his eyes and looks down at you, blinking to adjust to the lack of light. It takes him a moment to process your question before he looks down at his watch
“it's three am. Christ what are you doing awake-”
part of your panic subsides, but its only enough to slightly let your guard down, enough to allow tears to brim in your eyes. You thank god for the darkness before you sniffle, it's wet and awful and you curse yourself for it. Wilbur opens the door more and steps out slightly, looking from left to right, then back again. Twice. You try to breathe.
“Ok...ok just come in.”
he steps to the side and opens the door more for you, guiding you in with a hand on your back before looking behind him a final time and shutting the door. He locks it.
“What happened? Are you alright?”
His voice sounds too soft. It doesn't sound like him. Your breath quickens. He’s leading you to his bed, a queen, it's bigger than the twin sized bunk of your room. Despite the extra size he still sits right next to you, his thigh bumping into yours, His hand resting on your knee. You focus on it. He doesn't rush you. You breathe in the room and feel the rigidity leave your body. It smells like him. You look up at him. He has a frown on his face but his eyes don't hold any worry. He's good at lying. You don't mention it.
“I slept all day. No one woke me.”
he nods slowly.
“I'm sorry about that.”
He squeezes your leg. A single tear falls down your face from where they had built up in your eyes. Usually you would move to wipe it, but his eyes trace it to its place on your cheek. You leave it. You think back to earlier in the day, when he picked you up, when he performed exactly how you'd imagined him to before. When it made you forget about everything. When you didn't even check if your outside clothes were on before falling asleep. You want him to do it again.
“Wilbur?”
your glossy eyes meet his and his shoulders go tense.
“Yes?”
his voice is just now starting to break out of sleep. You rake your eyes down his naked chest for the first time, letting them linger on the sweatpants around his hips and the boxer band that peaks over them. Calvin klein. You notice. You let him notice you notice.
“Could you hold me?”
he swallows hard.
“Kid..”
“please”
it doesn't sound like a plea when you say it. It sounds like a word. If he notices he pretends he doesnt when he brings his hands around to rest on the underside of your thighs, sliding you forward onto his lap, straddling him. His arms shake. You gently place your hands on his naked chest as you rest your head on his shoulder with a hum
“You are warm”.
He makes a sort of strangled sound as you press your cheek into his burning shoulder, your nose buried in the side of his neck. His breathing is irregular, you can feel his heart thumping hard against your hands. You can feel something else between your legs, he tries to adjust his hips and ends up rolling them into you, hissing with a groan.
“Please..”
he whispers
“please tell me you don't want this. You can leave. We can pretend none of this happened.”
This time his voice is exactly how you imagined. A beat passes. You don't move.
“Fuck..”
he grabs your hips and rolls up against you again, opening his mouth slightly as he lets out small noises. Your body relaxes completely under the weight of his palms. He's not wearing those bracelets. Your chest feels light. That's good. You never imagined him in the bracelets. Your body reacts when he grinds himself against a sensitive part of you, your mouth opening in a gasp. He chuckles, breathlessly, before flipping you around so you are underneath him. He's caging you in from above and your head spins at the sight. Him backlit by the moon. The freckle under his eye. He slips his hot hands under your shirt, ghosts them across your cold skin, lifting the garment over your head. He looks at your bare chest for a moment before he hooks his thumbs into your shorts, pulling the sporty fabric past your hips with ease. He devours you with his eyes, rubbing his hands down your body, thumbing at your bare nipples as he passes them, earning an arch from your back as he wraps his hands around your waist, marvels at the way they engulf you, then continues his pursuit down to your pelvic bones. A pair of floral underwear sits there, a small bow at the front. His breath hitches as he drags a kiss down your hips to the hem of the fabric, you raise up at the contact.
“God you're so perfect.”
you squeeze your eyes shut as he sticks his face between your legs and takes a deep inhale, his nose bumping into your clit. You involuntarily grind down but he halts your hips with one hand, the other moving to your thigh to press it wide against the bed.
“Ah..”
is all comes out of your mouth before he presses his wet tongue against the fabric of your panties. You whine and try to squirm away from him, or maybe towards him. You aren't sure. You don't think. He hooks his thumbs into the pink fabric before pulling it off you, leaving you entirely naked under him, leg pushed against the bed so he can see all of you.
“Here.”
he raises up face to face with you, looking into your eyes.
“Since you want to be shy now.”
he presses the thumb holding the fabric into your mouth, you mindlessly obey, opening for him as he stuffs your underwear into it.
“There, that's good right, doll? So they won't hear you.”
you simply nod, knitting your eyebrows together at the salty taste of yourself and his spit on your soaked panties. You didn't know you could get so wet.
“God you're such a good girl.”
he’s breathless already, kissing back down your body, biting around your hips. You let out small gasps at the surprise sensation, scrunching your face up and tilting your head back into the bed. He lays his cheek against your hip and looks up at you with a giggle, running his hands down to the inside of your legs and squeezing the flesh there. He's elated.
“Have any other men done this to you?”
you shake your head, looking down at him. Your voice comes out a muffled
“none”
It just sounds like a noise behind the makeshift gag. his mouth parts slightly as he draws his bottom lip into it, looking back down to your dripping core.
“Yeah… I can tell”
there's no giggle in his voice now, just breath and something else. You don't recognize it. Your jaw clenches. His eyes don't move.
“Would you like to try something for me”
it doesn't sound like a question. You stay still. He doesn't sound like how you imagined anymore. He looks up at you after a beat of silence. Two beats. You didn't answer. He grabs your wrists in his large hands, placing them above your head, your body on full display for him. Like a framed work in a museum. Out of the hands of the creator, at the mercy of man.
“Such a dirty girl”
he whispers
“coming here in the dead of night…”
he swaps your wrists around in his hands with ease, pinning both of them down with one of his hands.
“Breaking the rules…”
he trails his free hand down, down, down
“for this.”
he dips his fingers into you, collecting the slick from between your legs, his mouth dropping open slightly at the sensation. You mimic him, breathing out his sharp breath in. He drags his fingers around the softness of you before raising his hand up between the two of you. He pulls his fingers apart, marveling at the webbed slick that coats them before looking down to you. He taps your chin with the back of his hand
“open”
You open your mouth as best as you can around the fabric of your underwear. He rests his palm on your chin, gliding his fingers against your tongue. Salt. The spit and slick Rolling down your chin as he continues to work his long fingers against your tongue, the underwear being shoved further into your mouth by the mistrations. When the wet fabric drags against your uvula you gag, trying to pull your hands away from his grasp in vain, trying to pull your head away from the stimulation in vain, it hits the bed. He continues playing in the everforming spit of your mouth as he fucks his slick covered fingers deeper, hitting your throat. You feel the panic build as the ability to breathe creeps away from you, gaging and choking around him as he holds your hands in place, you thrash slightly, feeling the pain on your wrists as you pull, begging for a moment of release from the onslaught. He’s sat straddled on your hips, stopping your legs from their attempt to kick yourself away.
“Shhh shh that’s it, you’re doing so good just take it.. just like that…”
he’s chasing something, you realize that. But you don’t know what to give him. You sob around the spit and fingers and fabric until you feel a build up in the back of your throat. Panic spreads through you as you cry, muffled sobs coming from you as your body convulses, your hands pulling down hard as he finally concedes, letting you go as you quickly sit up and vomit into his lap, the underwear blocking the flow for a moment and keeping the vile taste in the back of your throat before your tongue pushes it out, letting the bile fall onto him and the bed. You let the tears fall unfettered as you hang your mouth open, letting the tears and acrid flavored spit string down into the puddle of puke that decorated his thighs. You heave, trying to catch your breath. He rests his head against yours, following your gaze, stroking your hair. He’s shaking.
“G-god you made a mess huh?”
He laughs out shakily. Your sobs get louder as your breathing quickens
“w-wiill?..”
he makes a soft sound at that. Your voice is absolutely wrecked, broken and scratchy and all but gone. You shake your head as you try to pull away from him.
“No, no baby you did so good.. you’re so good.”
You let him take your brain out of your head. You let him have it all. You let him talk it out of your head, replacing it with his words. He holds you close to him, the gross waste pressing against your knees as you brush against the fabric of his sweatpants. He’s shaking.
“God Angel I’m not mad at all I’m so pleased you are so perfect. I’ve never had a more perfect girl.”
He presses his words against your cheek.
“Look how hard I am... See?”
He takes your trembling hand in his and guides it down to his vomit soaked sweatpants, you feel the bile crawl back up your throat as he presses your hand into him, the wetness soaking your skin and he guides you through stroking him over the fabric. He rests his head in your neck, moaning softly at the relief of the pressure, mouthing at your neck gently. The room smells awful, filled with a string of his soft gasps and yes’s as he rolls his clothes hips up into your palm, his large hand holding it against him. Your whole body feels like static as he moans into your neck
“I need to feel your mouth around me, pleas-see. God.”
Before you can react his hand is threaded into your hair as he pushes you down, inches away from his puke covered crotch. You try to breathe, giving up on trying to blink your eyes into focus as he pushes his sweats past his hips just enough to free his painfully hard cock. It slaps against his stomach, completely keyed up and leaking. He drags your face into it, huffing as your cheek rubs against his length, trying to grind into you in whatever way he can. He looks down at you, hands resting on his thighs, knees folded uncomfortably underneath you, hair half pulled back into his hands
“go on, give it a lick…you've got this.”
you dont mistake his smile for mercy. You cannot afford that mistake again. You try your best to nod without poking yourself in the eye with him before turning to his leaking cock and giving it a kitten lick, his hips buck as he hisses
“Good girl, that's it just like that..''
he pulls you closer to his dick, encouraging you to continue. You lick a longer stripe now, from his base to tip, you can taste the salt of him, and vaguely the vomit, that you register, is underneath the bridge of your body. You rest your cheek against him again, breathing, trying to breathe. He grabs your chin gently, running a thumb across your bottom lip.
“Hey, look at me.”
you drag your eyes up and try to focus on him, the haze of your brain fighting against something animal and afraid in you.
“You're beautiful, you’re so fucking beautiful. I've wanted you like this for so long. Just like this. Just like this.”
you allow your jaw to go slack with the drag of his thumb, letting out a hum as you bat your eyelashes up to him, he presses his thumb along your tongue, then back out to your chin, gently this time, then spits on you. You feel the glob drip down from the eye you managed to close only milliseconds before the contact and let out a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding.
“So pretty”
he grinds his cocks onto your spit soaked face, practically playing in the mess, using you like a pillow to hump, before he guides his tip to your mouth.
“Open”
and you do, wordlessly, you open your mouth and allow him to gently push your head down. All you can hear above you are soft huffs and near silent curses as he cries.
“God ive always wanted this, just to use your fucking throat, you’re always so quiet, so perfect for this.”
he babbles to no one as he starts to fuck himself into your mouth, you just try to breathe, face spit soaked, hands clinging onto his thighs as he uses you. He presses deeper, holding your head still as he almost bottoms out. You gag, trying instinctually to push away using your leverage on his thighs. His grip on you doesn't budge as he gives you a moment's release, pulling out before slamming back in.
“god you were built for this, such a perfect pretty fucking mouth, just made to take my cock.”
you know exactly what he's chasing this time as he stills himself deep in your throat while you choke and gag around him, spit and precum and tears soaking your red face. He tosses his head back and moans, grinding deep into your throat before you slap his legs, hard, the lack of oxygen clashing with the buildup of bile in your throat as he pulls you off just enough for you to puke all over him, his thighs, and your hands. You pull a wet shaky breath through your nose and push an exhale of spit and acid through your mouth as you sob, inches away from his hard puke covered cock. He pets you.
“Shhh, shh… so pretty.. Such a pretty girl. So good for me..”
he rests his hands on your cheeks and pulls you up gently, your back unfurling from doubled over. He places a kiss under your eye, then on the corner of your mouth. You try to breathe. You try to breathe through it all. Your throat burns. His eyes are on your lips as he brushes against them with his own, you let him lean in and drink you up, all of your disgusting taste. You close your eyes and try to breathe. When he pulls away he pets your head again, gently carding his hands through your hair.
“Good girls get rewards right?”
he kisses under your ear. You nod vaguely, off somewhere in the distance.
“I need you to use your words.”
he likes being mean . Your mouth opens, no sound comes out at first, then a shaky, breaking whisper
“ye-a..h”
you nod, trying to keep down the shake of your shoulders. He mouths at your collar bones, dragging his teeth along the skin, rubbing his hands over your thighs gently.
“Do you want that?”
a shiver wracks through you at the low register. This might be the first time he's asked you that question and allowed you to answer. You look up at him, tears brimming in your eyes. You see his dark messy hair and his moonlight clear skin and his warm blown out eyes. His freckle under his eye, his pink lips. You think of how it felt when he picked you up, how it felt when he gagged you down, how removed your mind was from it all, how the vessel of your body carried you. Carried you to him. You nod quickly
“ye,s.. Yes…”
your voice is scratchy and hiccuped. He rolls himself behind you with ease, pressing you down, down, down into your own puddle of sick as he moves behind you, running a hand down the arch of your back as he uses the other to press your upper body down into the bed, your cheek resting in he mess. He lifts your hips higher as he presses your lower back down, you feel the protest of your back to bend into such a dramatic arch but you move, pliable under him.
“wilbur.. Ple-ase”
you don't know what you're pleading for. Everything under you is wet and wrong. His hands are strong on your hips as he giggles, running his fingers through your wetness. You hadn't realized how much had been collecting there. You shiver.
“Such a dirty girl..”
he slaps his cock against you and you gasp at the sensation, you were burning. He runs himself through your folds before sinking into you slowly. You hiss, face twisted up as more tears brimmed in your eyes.
“God youre so fucking small, never taken a dick before in your life huh?”
you whimper as he presses into you slowly.
“I bet this angle isnt helping the stretch either- god youre so fucking tight. Good fucking girl for me.”
your chest heaves as you cry at the stretch, this whole night you have felt so much burning.
“Almost there, you can take me.”
he rubs circles into the dimples on your back with his thumbs before you feel him finally bottom out, his hips hitting yours. You clench the wet sheets under you and try to imagine the air to smell like lavender and not stomach acid. You try to imagine the hair stuck to your face with wet to be from a shower and not spit and tears. You try to imagine the intrusion inside you to be of pleasure and not pain. And slowly it all starts to work.
“Wilbu..r.. Wilb-”
you hiccup out as he slowly drags himself out and pushes back in.
“god that's it, just fucking take me jusst like that..”
he threads a hand through your hair, pulling you up slightly as he leans over you, s peeding up his thrusts slowly.
“I wanted to do this to you on that bed of yours in your cabin.”
he stills deep in you and grinds a few shallow thrusts into you before continuing his pace.
“G-god i wanted to bend you over those lacey pillows and have that little bear watch as i fucking took you just like this.”
he punctuates his words by griding deep into you again, this time hitting a place that made you see stars. Your entire body jolts and you open your mouth in a loud moan, a sound you didn't know could come out of you.
“Fuck..”
he presses your face back down into the bed hard, and you try to breathe through your mouth as the wet sheets block your noes, the smell becoming unbearable, you whine as he continues to grind deep into that spot, holding your hips still when you try to push back into him.
“Y-youve got to be quiet angel…”
he slowly pulls out of you and you groan, wet and muffled into the bed, missing the feeling of him buried so deep in you.
“We can't have anyone knowing about this.”
you feel a hand on your shoulder as you are flipped onto your back, facing him now, your hair a wet matted mess stuck to your face and the bed, laying in your own puke, completely spread out and open beneath him. He smiles and leans in
“this is the part where you say, ‘yeah i know, i don't want you to be in trouble, Wilbur-’ “
he mocks, as he pushes himself back into you. Your mouth drops open in a silent moan at the change in angle, the curve of him hitting right where you need him most as he bottoms out.
“-And you look at me with those big fucking eyes..”
he sets a quicker pace now, losing his composure.
“.. and practically beg me to fuck you right in front of everyone.”
you feel something building as you moan out, his hand quickly coming up to cover your mouth as he pounds into you.
“This is what you wanted all along, right? God such a good girl, just fucking taking it. Taking dick from an older man, letting me fucking gag you on it.”
his voice growls and you feel your body convulse as you try to close your legs around him in vain, his free hand catching one of them and holding it wide open against the bed as you come undone. His thrusts don't waver.
“Fuck.. cumming in a pile of your own fucking vomit as i fuck you with it…”
you feel tears prick your eyes as you try to shake your head, the overstimulation wracking your body as you burn. You hadn't registered that he didn't clean himself after you puked over him. You barely registered it now.
“Fucking filthy, fucking girl, letting me do whatever i want to you.. so good, so- fuck- fucking..”
he buries himself deep inside you as he cums, biting down hard enough on your shoulder to draw blood. You hiss into his hand as your eyes roll back into your head, the feeling of being fucked full of his cum pushing you into another orgasm. You spasm around him, shaking your head until he removes his hand from your mouth, pulling out of you and watching his seed push out onto the mess below. You're both gasping for air, fighting to regain composure. He runs a hand through his hair, his eyes focusing on the mess and then back to you, then to the pile of clothes on the floor, and back to you. You're staring off somewhere in the ceiling.
“Hey”
you feel, vaguely, the ache of your body hit you now, just how wrecked your throat was is still catching up to you, but you ached at the joints.
“Hey..”
he’s snapping in front of your face, you register the visual before the sound. You turn your head towards him and feel the ring of it, wincing.
“God ok.. Fuck.”
his head is in his hands. You can only bring yourself to blink at him. Hes looking around the room like he killed someone. But you’re still alive, you think.
I'm alive .
You smile.
“W-ilbur”
he looks at you as if you were a wounded animal
“shh.. Don't speak..your throat it-”
he looks down at his hands, his body.
“It needs to rest..”
you nod blankly, watching him watch himself.
There is no need to look for a killer,
you want to say,
you didn't kill me, im right here, I am alive.