Chapter Text
Things are different when Tommy is finally sitting on Wilbur’s sofa.
The younger’s been begging to come visit for what feels like months, but it hasn’t been until now, with Covid restrictions finally easing up, that Wilbur’s felt it appropriate to let Tommy come all the way from Nottingham to Brighton for three days. Wilbur’s talked to Tommy’s parents again; has been looking forward to this just as much as he knows Tommy has for the last few weeks-
But things are different. Weird.
Tommy arrived at 1 pm this afternoon. They had a late lunch together, then took a long walk along all the spots Wilbur likes most about his hometown, talking about everything and nothing. They’ve already streamed together, and somehow Wilbur’s let Tommy convince him to allow Tubbo to come over tomorrow.
They’ve had a great day, but now it’s winding to an end. The sun is going down, drawing long shadows of trees outside the window though the summer’s heat is still sticking to Wilbur’s skin like a blanket.
‘Sitting’ is a loose definition of what Tommy is doing. He’s sprawled out, long limbs sticking awkwardly in several directions. He’s got his head tilted back, exposing his long, pale neck. Wilbur can’t help but stare for a few seconds before blurting out an excuse about getting a drink and ducking into the kitchen.
He downs two glasses of water and pours himself a glass of wine before he feels comfortable going back into the living room. Tommy’s eyes are closed, his mouth slightly open, and Wilbur thinks he might have fallen asleep but then Tommy is opening those eyes, blinking at him.
“What’re you looking at?” he asks.
“Nothing,” Wilbur says. Then, making excuses, he adds: “Just thinking I’m glad you’re here.”
Tommy smiles, bashful and genuine in a way he only ever is when it’s just the two of them. He repositions, sitting up straighter and incidentally making space for Wilbur on the sofa beside him.
Wilbur doesn’t hesitate before sitting down, though he thinks belatedly that he should have gotten Tommy a drink as well.
“Do you want a cola?” he asks, moving to get up again.
“No,” Tommy says. He reaches out and puts a hand on Wilbur’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. “Sit for a bit. You seem antsy.”
He’s pulled his hand away again already, but the spot where he was just touching Wilbur burns.
And look, Wilbur can’t help it, okay? Tommy is mature and good-looking, and his best friend in the world. If Wilbur’s developed a bit of a crush on him, it isn’t because of any malicious intentions. Still, he knows it’s entirely wrong. He’s eight years Tommy’s senior for crying out loud! Tommy sees him as a big brother!
“What’s wrong?” Tommy asks.
Wilbur realises his brows are furrowed and smooths them immediately.
“Nothing! Sorry, I don’t mean to be weird,” he says with genuinity. “I think I’m just a bit tired. I’m getting a little anxious and I don’t know why.”
Well, he does know why. But Tommy doesn’t need to know why.
Tommy’s the one frowning now, and Wilbur wants to reach out and smooth the skin between the blond’s eyebrows with his thumb. He doesn’t do it, but the mental picture of it is so vivid that his hand twitches.
Tommy notices, mistakes his intentions and reaches out to interlock their fingers.
Wilbur’s eyes flick down, then back up at his friend’s face.
“Toms?”
“Don’t feel anxious, big man,” Tommy says. “It’s just me. You’re fine.”
But that’s just it: there’s nothing ‘just’ about Tommy. The way Tommy smiles and laughs, and the things he says that make Wilbur lose all composure and laugh as well even when he’s trying with all his might to keep a straight face-
Fuck, Wilbur’s got it bad.
And he’s known he’s got it bad for a while, but he’s been so good at keeping it a secret on discord that he assumed it would be the same in real life.
Maybe he’s thinking too much about this.
He clears his throat, squeezes Tommy’s hand, and pulls away.
“You’re right, man. I don’t know what’s up with me,” he says. “I think I’m just really glad to have you around for real.”
“That’s good,” Tommy says, grinning. “I’m happy, too.”
Last time Wilbur and Tommy met up in real life, Tommy’s lips would stretch awkwardly around braces every time he smiled, but that’s not the case now. Tommy’s gotten taller, as well, if only slightly. He still hunches awkwardly, like he’s trying to make up for his height by making himself smaller, but he’s overall more mature-looking than he was last year.
His face has seemed to grow into itself more, too. Wilbur’s always thought Tommy looks endearing, but now he can see traces of handsome features starting to appear. Wilbur remembers being seventeen, and the way he was suddenly starting to get more attention from girls. He wonders if Tommy is going through the same thing, now.
The thought of Tommy getting attention from girls is gut-wrenching.
“Good,” Wilbur says, somehow managing to keep his thoughts from appearing through his expression. “It’s been way too long.”
Maybe if Wilbur had seen Tommy in real life more often, he wouldn’t be feeling like this. He would have seen Tommy going through his awkward phases, been reminded every day that his best friend isn’t just a guy but a seventeen-year-old who looks at him like he personally hung the moon-
He should stop this train of thought right now.
But Tommy is looking at him. The corners of his mouth are still turned up, and he’s closer than Wilbur thinks he was before. Then, he’s even closer still, and suddenly there are lips against his own, and Wilbur gasps, pulling away as quickly as he can.
Tommy looks hurt.
“I thought-” the younger man says, blinking fast. “I- I’m sorry. Genuinely.”
“No, it’s-” Wilbur takes a deep breath, unsure of what to say or where to go from here.
Tommy has just kissed him. Wilbur’s seventeen-year-old best friend has just kissed him.
And Wilbur kind of wants him to do it again.
“I thought I was picking up on something,” Tommy says, turning away. He hides his face in his hands and groans. “God, I shouldn’t ‘ave done that.”
“Tommy-”
“If you want me to leave, I understand.”
“Tom, no,” Wilbur says. Tommy looks at him, and Wilbur tries very hard not to look as crushed as he feels. “Maybe you were picking up on something, I don’t know… But you’re seventeen. This is-”
Bad. Disastrous. Going to end his career and turn him into a social pariah.
“Yeah, no, I know that,” Tommy says. “But, I mean, nobody would have to know, right?”
“But I’d still feel bad,” Wilbur admits. “Morally, it’s wrong.”
“The age of consent is sixteen.”
“No, I know,” Wilbur says. It’s somewhat frustrating, trying to explain how he feels to Tommy, mainly because he doesn’t usually need to. Tommy just gets him, most of the time. Right now, Wilbur has the feeling Tommy just doesn’t want to understand him. “But, I mean, still.”
“Still what?” Tommy asks. “It seems quite simple to me, really. I’m legal. I want this. You want this. What’s the problem?” The blond pauses, seemingly thinking. “Do you want this?”
Wilbur does. He’s liked Tommy for so long that it feels as natural as breathing. He’s tried, before, to talk himself out of his crush on Tommy, and at other times to talk himself into feeling morally okay with the way he feels.
Neither attempt has worked so far.
But now Tommy is here, right in front of him, trying to tell him it’s okay.
Wilbur doesn’t know how to react.
“Oh,” Tommy says, misunderstanding or willfully misinterpreting Wilbur’s silence. “Yeah, no, I get it.”
“Tommy-”
Tommy cuts him off by standing up, the movement so abrupt that Wilbur goes quiet.
“I’m heading to bed. Let’s pretend this never happened.”
With that, Tommy heads out of the living room, down the hall to the guest room.
Wilbur hears the door open, but it never clicks closed.
An invitation.
He sits, frozen, unsure of what to do, for a long time.