Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

time moves slowly, sometimes. when you’re enjoying yourself, relishing in the warm feeling that fills you up and draws laughs and snorts from your vocal cords: it’s fleeting and fast, each moment just a heartbeat faster than you want, and just like that the time is gone- and you’re left wondering where it all went.
but, alas, in times like this- absent-mindedly staring at the moving lights of his night-strobe, it crawls past, dragging slowly and making him feel heavy. his eyes trace the pattern the light makes on the ceiling, similar to that the bottom of a pool would be in the summer sun. the light had been a gift from his cousin, one who he hadn’t seen since she’d been accepted into that extravagant school in florida he recalled trying out for, and hadn’t seen since. the lights swam on his walls, a reflection of a tranquility he never often got living in england. the illusion of shifting waters was somewhat distorted by its purple hue, but his hazel eyes followed the pattern none the less, constantly shifting and ever changing in its ways.

how long he had been staring at the damned lights, he was clueless to- but a buzz from his phone snapped him out of his stupor, as he picked it up to look at the notification.
it was charlie, his school friend.
his only friend, really.

‘dude i can see your lights on. go to bed, it’s the last day of school tomorrow.’

ah, school. they were out on easter break following the end of the school’s day tomorrow, his brain poured over the details as he sat up on his bed, looking out of the window it was propped up next to to look out over the street, spotting his friend at a window of his own.
chucking slightly, wilbur read the piece of paper he was holding up, making outlandishly over-the-top gestures to it.

‘sleep, you dense motherfucker.’

if anyone on the streets saw it and gave charlie a weird look, he didn’t mind. all that mattered to him was that it made him smile, and pushed him to shoot a quick text right back at his friend.

‘alrighty, asshole. whatever you say’
‘never say alrighty again to me, william’
‘no <3’
‘stfu’
‘no <3’
‘go to bed’
‘no <3’
‘i will not hesitate to call your mother, william.’
‘calm your tits, charles, i’ll go to bed.
jeez.’
‘good boy :)’
‘ch’
‘GO TO SLEEP’
-read, 11.56pm

plugging his phone in whilst quietly chuckling, wilbur did manage to close his curtains, not bothering to give a final glance at his friend’s doings, before slipping under his sheets, using the small remote to turn off his entrancing and ever-shifting lights. once the remote was safely back on his bedside table, he rolled over, facing the wall of his bedroom, allowing his eyes to drift shut, memories of past dreams and experiences washing over him to send him back to the wild and, frankly terrifying world of slumber.

when he woke the next morning, it was to his step-father yelling at him, once again, to move his sorry ass and get changed. it was different, though, because it sounded lighter- relieved almost, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. he filtered through the possible reasons for his odd tone as he got changed, slipping on his favourite sweater- a pale blue hand-me-down from another of his cousins: he didn’t actually have any siblings, his dad left him as a baby with his mother, who re-married to his now step-dad, having 2 more sons of their own. he was the oldest, and an outcast and he was fairly sure his entire family hated him.

after sliding on some ripped black jeans and pulling on a black beanie, he grabbed his schoolbag (which he had smartly packed the night before, a routine he was getting himself into after completing his prep) and threw one strap over his shoulder, this time having not forgotten to put socks on before he went down the stairs to the kitchen.
his ma was eating some beans on toast (a meal he’d never understand the reasons for), while his 2 step-brothers ate their cereal in a bored manner, as if it was as dull as the weather they experienced in britain.
his step-dad emerged from the fridge, beer in hand.
huh. his step-father wasn’t an avid drinker, though wilbur would sometimes wished he didn’t drink as much as he did on occasion, but he wouldn’t be the first to admit that it was probably pushing it to be drinking this fucking early.

seeing the stink-eye he was no doubt giving him, his step-father... laughed? it was breezy and unsettling and wilbur hated it in every way, shape and form.
“lighten up, wilbur! pack your things, you’ll be gone by tuesday! isn’t that what you wanted?”
he froze, every inch of his body tensing up.
what? he- he’d be gone? what did that mean, what did ‘he’d be gone’ fucking mean, where would he go-
“that stupid school told us you got in! we won’t have to deal with you anymore, isn’t it great?”
school- sch-
oh.
oh!
OH!

“the- the academy?”
another sickeningly happy chuckle,
“that’s the one! american boarding school, isn’t it the dream?”
his step-brothers seemed delighted at the prospect of an over-seas school: that meant he wasn’t going to be around! they were no sooner exchanging exited whispers with eachother.
“since america is a failure as a democracy,”
his father started, and okay- ouch, not a way to talk about a superpower of a country but-
“the holidays are all out of line, they actually go back to school on thursday. which is why you’ll be gone by tuesday! your cousin, nini- nicotine - whatever her name is: she’ll be letting you tag along. you’ll be their problem, not mine!”

wow. that was- that was a lot.
he passed the information over in his mind again and again as he walked to school, an exited spring in his step. he had seen the acceptance letter- signature and all, and made sure to snap a photo of it to show to charlie once he got to school.

the day breezed past, a flurry of happy and loud and laughs and giggles. the day was going well from a ‘we’re not in trouble’ standpoint until he realised- he wasn’t coming back! then, oh boy, did all hell break loose.
it was the final day of school, so the kids were more than happy to actively contribute to the impromptu food-fight he started.

despite that, nearing the end of the day (which was a lot of sitting around and talking, since they were effectively locked out in the school’s grounds as the teachers were forced to try and figure out who started the hellfire that was the food fight. no one would budge, though, leading the teachers down chase after chase after chase of wild goose hunts.) an unfamiliar heaviness settled over him- weighing him down, pulling at his heartstrings.
“wilbur, i think this might be our final goodbye.”
charlie’s tone was light, carrying the normal sarcastic air, but also a tone of sincerity that made him do a double-take, looking his friend in his (four-eyed, he’d usually tease) eyes and finding nothing but honest emotions there. raw feels that made his own heart ache.
it was a happy tone, though there was undeniable sadness and a look that made him feel guilty within their depths.
“you- you think?”
his voice was somewhat choked. god- he was usually so good with his words, why- why did they feel so forced now?
“yeah, man. you’re- fuck, you’re goin’ all the way to florida! that’s, thats- that’s fuckin... huge.”
the sarcastic sheen seemed to drip out of his voice with every word, leaving each more raw with emotion and depth than the last. god, when did he get this clingy? why did it make his heart ache? was it because the one person- his only friend for the past, god, 5 years now? the past 5 years- he was willingly leaving behind, flying off to florida: land of crazy motherfuckers and alligators, for some academy he’d been dying to get into the past 8 months?
fuck, emotions really were the bane of his existence, huh?
he hadn’t realised he was crying until charlie hugged him.
“i’ll miss you, man.”
strained, forced happiness. it made his lungs tremble.
“i-i’ll miss you too, ass-asshole.” he sounded almost as weak as he felt, sinking into the hug- the only friendly embrace he ever recalled having, before it was over far too soon, looking up to a teary-eyed best friend, equipped with a sad yet proud smile.
“just promise you won’t forget me, dude. and for the love of god, call.”

and like that, the bell went, and he was gone.
charlie was just as bad at goodbyes as he was, if not worse. of course he didn’t want to be around him when he broke down, wilbur sure as hell didn’t want him to be there when he started bawling, either.

which is exactly what he did, alone, in his room- curtains closed, for the rest of the night: mind drifting from memory to memory, wallowing in his grief of the prospect of never being able to see his only (and best) friend for the foreseeable future.

saturday passed, he didn’t eat. he didn’t leave his bed. sunday passed, a text from niki got him to pack just a little bit, before he decided to let himself out of the house for a walk around the neighbourhood one last time for a while. the trees he’d hoped he’d never have to see again hung with a crushing sense of familiarity that he couldn’t help but yearn to miss, conflicting feelings of dread at his nearing departure and the hope that he could look back and say ‘it was hell, but i miss it’. it was too much.

he spent monday actually preparing, niki’s mother, his aunt, had texted him the details of his flight and emailed him his flight booking details- his ma would accompany him to the airport, which he would then brave. alone. niki was coming from germany, so he was left by himself to manage his time and make sure he got to his flight on time and prepared. his phone charged, guitar packed, bags ready, room tidy. he didn’t sleep that night, not well. he was woken up sharply at 5am, preparing with his grumbling mother to be in the car by 6, and at heathrow by 7. by 7.15, he had his luggage ready to be stowed, heading for the security check with his carry-on. smooth sailing, despite the anxiety and odd glances he was given. no biggie, he got through with only minor inconveniences.

he reached the lounge area by his gate at 7.45, since his gate was in terminal c and he had been dropped off at terminal a. lovely. barely with 15 minutes to himself, the plane started boarding at 8. now, tickets were supplied by the academy- for him, at least, seeing how he was coming from overseas, and that he had a whopping 12 hour flight ahead of him. they were a staggering business class, which left him stupidly shocked as he got ready in his seat, not among the first but also not among the last to board the plane. thankfully, he didn’t have a window seat. he’d never really traveled by plane before? once or twice to see his family in germany, but... 12 hours? by a window? he- he wouldn’t be able to handle that... what if the glass broke? he didn’t know it would be a 1 in (insert obscurely large number here) chance if it did.

biting back paranoia and the steadily growing feeling of loneliness, he plugged in his headphones after listening and absorbing all the information he could from the safety speech from the pre-recorded message on the screen, angling his head awkwardly to see the pictures as they appeared on the small tv. after a quick look over the safety manual, he felt safe enough to put in the headphones and start listening to music.

“you’ve never really flown before, huh?”
“you can really tell, can’t you?”

the first person spoke from across the plastic divider, which had a ‘please lower for takeoff and landing’ sticker on its right, which is why he left it untouched. the other voice came from directly next to him- he was stuck in a middle isle seat, usually for 2 people of acquaintance but, since he was alone, he was stuck next to a stranger. clearly, to him at least, he was sandwiched between 2 people who were frequent fliers and were familiar with eachother. looking from the man clad in a black hoodie (with a logo he didn’t recognise) across the screen divider to the man next to him wearing a somewhat obnoxious neon green, which kind of hurt his eyes if he was being honest, which is why he avoided looking at him when they had first sat down.

“u-uh, no- no i- i haven’t,”
when did taking become so hard? it had been so- so easy, with charlie and now? now, god, his throat was closing up and he felt as though every breath was- was prohibited, the confusing musk of airport overwhelming his senses.

the man across the divide scoffed, in good humour? whereas the person beside him seemed more sympathetic, his features almost visibly softening at his apparent discomfort.
“hey, that’s cool dude. you here with family? aren’t you brits on holiday now, or something?”

his tone was light, friendly. distracting, dare he say? he didn’t want to jump the gun- but, it- it kinda seemed to him that this stranger, complete stranger, was trying to distract him from his blatant anxiety.
and, it was working. pretty well.
“uh- not, not exactly? are- are you not british, or something? i- uh, i’m on holiday- for now, at least.”
it was a slightly uncomfortable question, in all honesty. how would he explain that he was transferring? and maybe the strange accent the two bore was because they weren’t local, which - which made sense. the only accents he was familiar with was his own (british, obviously), niki’s (german) and niki’s friend, fundy’s (dutch, he thinks?). maybe they were from somewhere far away, like-

“seriously? i’m from florida. our holidays end on like, thursday? who even does that? we’re probably gonna skip the rest of the school week, just come back on monday,”

before the man across the plastic divide could continue his tangent, the person next to him scolded him, cutting him off:

“schlatt, no we are not. school’s important, and we’re on that trip list, remember? we can’t miss it?”

so his name was schlatt. hm.

“yeah yeah yeah, whatever dream. we won’t miss the stupid trip.”

and the man in green was called dream. interesting?

“so, virgo, why are you headed to the land of the rabid man- the state of endless summer, the- dude, you good? bro- fuckin blink, what is up with you?”

his tone was a weird blend of confused and amused, maybe even slightly concerned? snapping himself out of his stupor, he blinked rapidly for a few moments, staggering over his words as he felt the rumble of the plane starting to take off beneath them.
they must have reached the runway.

“i-uh, school. i’m, transferring. how- how did you know i- i was a virgo?”
“damm. it was just a wild guess,”
not a helpful response, schlatt, he mentally reprimanded, but didn’t allow the quip to escape his mouth. he was going to be stuck between these people for the near future, so he decided it would be best to like, maybe not piss them off? that sounded like a good idea.

“transferring? not many people would transfer across the globe for a school in florida, what’s got you hopping continents?”

ah, asking for more personal information. how... enticing? he wasn’t sure if this was normal or not, hell, he’d hardly ever spoken to people outside of charlie or the cashier at tesco’s, what was he meant to thi-

“dream, calm down holy shit. learn to walk before you run! i’m schlatt, that’s dream, but you don’t seem like a dimwit so i’m assuming you picked up on that already,” he gave a subconscious nod, seemingly elevating schlatt’s mood, “what’s your name, or am i just gonna have to get the nutcase to start calling you virgo as well?”

dream scoffed; loud and outraged, but amusement obvious even to him. schlatt grinned at him, making his blood curdle slightly beneath the surface of his skin, not a fan of the stranger’s (stranger? we’re they really complete strangers at this point?) gaze inspecting his every move, his entire being, his every flaw, his every-

“wilbur,”

god, he sounded so pathetic. weak, small. not things he’d ever want to be seen as, he noted grimly. why couldn’t he just be confident, like he was with charlie? before he could process the response, the entire cabin started shaking everything was vibrating, the force of the takeoff taking him by complete surprise. he curled in an arm on himself, one hand clutching tightly on his phone, the other grabbing the side of his baggy yellow sweatshirt in a death-grip, knuckles paling through the ferocity of his grip.

“dude, calm down. it’s just takeoff, like, jeez-“
“schlatt,”

god, the way schlatt spoke was so condescending, and so right. so deserved. he was really being a wimp about it, wasn’t he?

“wilbur? wilbur, can you focus on breathing? please? i know we just met, but i don’t want you passing out on us here,”

was he- was he really having a panic attack? in front of strangers? charlie had barely managed to figure out he got them, his family couldn’t give a shit- why- why were these people helping? they weren’t his friends, or anything, why- why were-

“i’m gonna talk, just try to focus on me and answer, okay? i’m going to try and distract you. be as detailed as you like.”

the smallest, fractional nod of an agreement, trying to focus on forcing the tainted air of the cabin into his lungs, almost wrenching at it horrific taste in his mouth.

“who are you travelling with?”
“no-no- no-one, m-ma dropped me off.”
“okay, are you meeting anyone?”
“m-my cousin, she- she’s p-picking me up. i- i’m staying with cousin n-niki, u-until school.”
“...alright, what school is it?”
“i-uh, th-the explorer... explorer academy, uh-“

“no fuckin’ way!”
he turned to schlatt, now confused as he’d calmed down considerably, no longer feeling his body get wretched around by cabin pressure as they ascended, their steady (yet still somehow rickety) climb into the air now evening flat out, he could only assume.
“dude, that’s our school! you’re the new kid- soot, right? your last name’s soot?”

...
what?
“y-yeah, you- you guys go to the academy?”

“oh, fuck yeah bro! this is gonna be wild!”
“schlatt, no-“
“fuck off, dream! we’re gonna have so much fun, virgo. just you wait and see!”

—🥂—

dream was snickering, looking at something that seemed a little too amusing to be true. the laughter was slightly forced, a sign that he wanted to be asked what was so funny. like when people sigh an excessive amount to be asked what was wrong.
“okay, what’s got you this time?” he asked, managing to slip into an exaggeratedly bored tone, obviously faux. dream huffed in response, as if submitting to a request he wasn’t keen on, replying:
“oh, nothing- just checking through my camera roll. got some good mugs,”

swiping his finger, he broke out into much more childlike giggles, bringing a hand to his mouth to try and suppress it. schlatt had fallen asleep, putting up t he plastic divider between them. it briefly crossed his mind that they had taken a morning flight, which struck him as odd because- who sleeps on a morning flight? surely they’d-
oh. timezones.
it was going to be mid-morning when they got to florida, wasn’t it?
huh. could’ve been worse?

before he could open his mouth to respond, the telltale ‘beep’ of an announcement rand throughout the cabin, followed by an announcement from a tired-sounding lady;
“if passengers could please shift their seats to the ‘landing’ position, fold their trays away, lower your dividers and fasten your seatbelts for landing, thank you.”

he didn’t question the phrasing of the demand-pose-request, but followed the instructions. his seat hadn’t really been moved, so it required minimal readjustment. he struggled to find the button for a little while (earning a small scoff from dream, mind you), pressing it to stop the divider between him and schlatt once he did.
out, cold.

“sit him up.”
he turned, blinking slowly- “huh?”
dream stared back at him, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world:
“you heard me. sit him up, he’s gonna have to.”

he was suddenly aware of the air against his exposed skin, feeling clammy against his cheeks.
“i- i don’t want to invade his-his space,”
he tried to reason, planning on opting to just waking the other up. dream scoffed, a playful threat forming in his lips,
“either you do it, or i’ll invade your personal space to do it myself.”
his brain seemed to be functioning at half speed, because before he really had enough time to process anything, dream was leaning over him, head and right arm poked over schlatt’s side of the divider, left hand stabilising himself on his leg. schlatt was up and practically howling his distaste for what dream was doing, and before too long (but after too long) the moment was over, and dream had re-bucked his seatbelt, chuckling as schlatt grumbled to himself. the word was really against him, want it? the cabin began shaking once more, distracting him from the doings of his... neighbours? to-be-classmates? plane buddies? the encoder he had spent the better part of his day pushing down flooded his chest again, taking him by surprise- knocking the air straight from his lungs. the air felt heavy as it shook against his body, plane vibrating with the force of its descent. the growling of the engine was loud, really, really loud- it was crushing, banging against his eardrums. he wished he had the soft comfort of his earbuds in, blasting another of his comfort songs, but his earbuds were tangled on his lap and his hands had started shaking to the point where he couldn’t bring them to untangle the wires.

“woah, dude, you alright?”
“hey- virgo? you still with us?”
they sounded distant, almost, but they were there. like a wall of water separated them. there was a hand on his shoulder, and he was instantly reeled back, head snapping into reality. it was grounding and sturdy and not shaking and solid and real and-

“breath, man, we’re landing. this is normal”.
it had been dream talking, and dream the one with ty the hand on his shoulder. taking the words to heart, he tried to calm his nerves by forcing the rancid air into his lungs, then back out again. the scent and taste on his tongue wasn’t pleasant, but it kept him from dropping to the floor like a deadweight.

“f-fuck, sorry, dude. i- i don’t know what came over me,” he tried to explain, chuckling nervously. he heard a sigh from dream, the comfort of his hand leaving his shoulder.
“it’s alright, man, i don’t mind.”

“eugh, my god. can we please talk about anything else? any more plane talk and i’ll actually do mad,”
schlatt’s quip was unexpected, but not unwelcome. he let out a sharp, breathy laugh more akin to a bark than anything else, his laughter drawing out into a low chuckle (now accompanied by schlatt’s own laughter) as dream started wheezing, like a kettle. it was something he noticed the other did, like, a lot. it was really just funny, if not a little ludicrous.

“okay, jschlatt, what we you say.”
“j-jschlatt? is- is that your full name?”
“shut the fuck up! look what you’ve done now, dream!”

—🥂—

getting off the plane was a hassle in itself, the extra burden coming in the form of his new ‘travel buddies’. the walk through the terminals to the passport check was absolute hell, too, since he hadn’t exact dressed for florida weather. he was getting hot, and clammy, and stuffy, and every part of his body seemed 10x harder to move than usual.
the passport check was easy enough, despite having to wait a grand 20 minutes in the line to reach the booths- he didn’t have an american passport, so he wasn’t privy to use the machines that dream and schlatt used. they waited for him, though, leading him to the right place for their baggage reclaim. baggage reclaim was probably the simplest of their tasks, since dream’s suitcase was as obnoxious as his hoodie (which he had taken off and tied around his waist, revealing a plain white tee underneath) and schlatt seemed to have some sort of laser tracker imbedded in his, barely glancing at any of the other black suitcases that passed by. he took a little longer finding his own suitcase, despite it being a more abnormal yellow colour. it had just taken a while to get into the reclaim track, he supposed. they were walking to terminal b, where his ride - his cousin - was meant to meet him. that’s when schlatt asked him what was up with his carry-on, slung over his shoulder and pressing against his back, making the heat feel even more oppressive.
“why’s your carry-on in a guitar case? is it just a fuckin’ guitar?”
he looked over at the other, suitcase handle firmly in his hand, clenching his fist slightly. was he judging him?
“u-uh, yeah. i- i play guitar.”
he waited a moment, expecting some sarcastic comments about ‘ooh masculinity’ and ‘how manly’, catching him completely by surprise when all he said was :
“seriously? neat. wish i had the patience.” before dropping the topic all together, drifting into silence once more. he pressed play on his music (which was turned down significantly) as they continued their walk, trying to ignore the growing discomfort of the heat in the air. it was damp- humid, almost sickeningly so.

by the time they reached terminal b, he was practically dead on his feet- mentally begging for some sort of release from the oppressive heat. if his travel-buddies noticed, they didn’t comment.
“you know when niki’s gonna get here, dude?”
schlatt spoke again, directing his words at him. he opened his phone to check his messages, processing the information infront of him with bleary eyes-
‘hey wil!! we’ll be at terminal b at 3.15, just thought we’d let you know!! cant wait to see you again :D’
he glanced at the time- 3.25: fuck, had they been waiting for 10 minutes already?
“uh, she- she should be here? i- i’m not sure if she’s like, here here though-“
he rambled, lifting his eyes from his phone to sweep the constantly moving crown around him, before a familiar voice called out:
“wilbur!”
it was soft, calming and familiar and his head snapped to its source, eyes landing immediately on his pale-haired cousin, who was speed-walking to him before catching him in a tight hug,
“i missed you so much! how’ve you been?”
the grip was uncomfortably hot, almost unbearably so, but he didn’t want to seem ungrateful so he took it.
“i-i’ve been fine, n-niki. how’ve you been?” he fired back, leaning back to look her in the face as her grip loosened. she also pulled back, positively beaming. as she replied, he was made aware of other people approaching schlatt and dream, but he didn’t comment, instead focusing on what his family was saying.
“and you’ve met schlatt and dream? we’re you on the same flight?”
“yeah, actually- we were all next to eachother in a row.”
“seriously? cool! what a coincidence,”

light chatter confined back and fourth between them, after saying goodbye (for now) to schlatt and dream. niki lead him outside, where the heat was somehow even more heavy and suffocating. niki seemed to notice the struggle he was in, though, quickly guiding him to the car. she helped him put his stuff in the boot (taking extra care with his instrument), before letting him slide into the back of the car, clambering in after him. the familiar yet somewhat distant face of niki’s mom greeted him from the driver’s seat, as well as that of another girl he didn’t recognise.
“that reminds me, wil! this is puffy- my good friend, she’ll be staying with us until school starts. she’s also part of the academy!”
he gave her a tiny greeting, being slapped with a response he was, quite frankly, not expecting at all.
“heya, wil! you look tired, and really red. why don’t you drink then sleep it off? we have an hours car journey.”

to his surprise, everyone in the car (including himself) agreed, as he was passed a plastic water bottle, which he gratefully thanked his cousin fore, before drinking. the cool water was refreshing, sending an icy chill down his throat in smooth waves, bathing him in relief. the aircon was also ramped up, and with the feeling of the cool air blowing against his clammy skin, he felt himself slip away from consciousness, the general fatigue of the last few days catching up on him as he sell asleep with his head against the cool pane of the car window.

Chapter Text

a gentle nudge on his shoulder brought his mind reeling back to reality, body snapping back into an up-right position.
“pf, wil, we’re at the hotel. puffy took your bags, you need to wake up.”
the gentle voice was familiar, ringing softly though his head as he rubbed at his eyes with his palms, still somewhat grossed out by how clammy they were. still.
the ac was off, and without the constant blow of cool air, he could feel himself getting uncomfortably warm once again.
“oh, thanks?”
niki giggled, and he could tell without even looking at her that she had rolled her eyes.
“thank her, not me- idiot.”
with that, he let himself chuckle slightly, only just catching up to his own damn stupidity. he unbuckled his seatbelt, before opening the door and getting out of the car. he hadn’t really processed it, but it was some form of model he didn’t know the name of with a glossy black finish.
a glossy black finish.
his brain grilled over why in god’s name someone in florida, land of heatwaves and sun, would opt to have a black car: ergo, a car that would absorb a substantially higher amount of heat from the sun. it was- it was just, absurd? barbaric, even? how did that shit not melt? he felt like he was meeting, and not one item of his clothing was black! not one!

his mind was once again reeled back in when the cold flush of an air-conditioned room enveloped him, sending shivers down his spine that were by no means unwelcome. his luggage was set on the floor by the check-in counter, where all of their luggage was also resting, as puffy and niki’s mother stood, talking to the receptionist. he and niki walked to meet them, as he instinctively reached for his guitar to sling it back over his shoulder, into his grasp. niki gave him an odd smile, but didn’t comment. he wasn’t all too aware of the conversation being had, more so opting to look at the decor of the lobby. it was a modern building, not quite his taste- a mix of darker marbled tiles and polished dark-wood walls. the receptionist desk had more of a reddish hue, and everything came together quite nicely with the large, white-potted plants and the numerous painting and murals on the walls that had a more overall reddish tone.

once again having his mind taken from its place in the clouds, puffy was passing him a card- a room keycard, which he graciously accepted with a ‘oh, thank you.’ before pocketing it with his phone. the group then followed niki’s mother (or just auntie, as he’d call her), niki and puffy chatting light-heartedly as he trailed slightly behind them, not really feeling up to the light-hearted banter.
it was pathetic, but he really, really fucking missed charlie.
already.

it took a little bit of explaining, but after a mere tedious 45 minutes, they had their rooms sorted! not unpacked- sorted.
since they were 4, they had to get 2 rooms- one to fit the kids and the other for a rather exhausted auntie. the two were linked, however, by a door between the two rooms which they could open if they had the key, which they had to phone the reception to get. once that was out of the way, auntie went through the basic ‘do-this’s and ‘don’t do that’s of staying in a hotel, before leaving to her room and shutting afore mentioned door, but not locking it. god forbid they had to go through that hassle again.

when left to it, wilbur was much more a fan of this room than he was the lobby. it was an odd rectangular shape, pale cream walls with a tanish yellow carpet. there were 3 single beds lined up against the right-hand wall, the bathroom immediately to your right when you walked in. there was a window instead of a wall at the end of the room, leading to a small balcony that had a nice view of absolutely nothing. nada. it was blocked by the trees.
still, he thought the colours were saturated and intoxicating and - what type of trees were they? he didn’t recognise them at all, holy shit-

“wil? you good?”
he turned quickly to look at niki, who was, like puffy, looking at him with a rather odd expression. a gentle mix of emotions he wasn’t quite sure how to comprehend.
“what? i- i’m fine. just- don’t recognise the trees, s’all.”
he replied, his voice loosing confidence with each passing syllable. niki nodded, apparently satiated by his lacklustre reply, before she went back to talking about- boat trips? boat trips- with puffy.

he could spend hours looking at how the light filtered through the leaves, leaving the dappled sunlight that strained though them green and stained in hue. he probably would have, had niki and puffy not snapped him out of his daze to summon him to the middle of the beds- intent on running him through course of how school would work.

“so, lessons start thursday. you know that, right?”
niki started, keeping her eyes on him as puffy shuffled through files on her tablet.
“yeah,”
he affirmed, picking at the skin around his nails in a subconscious tick, not even processing that he was even doing it.
“good. we’re leaving for the academy tomorrow, though. we need to get your school supplies ready!”
niki’s voice held an exited squeal, exchanging a knowing and slightly too happy look with puffy which made him only slightly nervous.
“o-okay? what- what’ll i be getting, anyways? just- just the books, right?”
he asked, just wanting the gentle confirmation. he was not expecting the shocked jaw-drop from niki and a astounded look from puffy as she looked up from her tablet.
“you- you mean you don’t know?”
puffy’s voice was strange, he thought. he hadn’t quite had time to dwell on it, and definitely didn’t have time to now, but it was odd. foreign to him, like dream and schlatt’s accents were.
“did your mom and dad not tell you?”
niki added, only furthering his anxious confusion.
“t-tell me what?”
it was all he had the energy mustered up to reply, gaze nervously flicking from girl to girl as they exchanged looks, slowly melting from shock to.. a sly, devious grin? oh no.
he liked that even less.

“dude, we got a lot to talk about.”

—🥂—

the night had digressed, and tension had slowly slipped out of existence after he was info-dumped on for a good half hour, getting a run down of all the equipment he’d be getting the next day.
and- oh boy, wow he was not expecting that.
he knew the academy was tech-based, yes, but he didn’t know it was that techy. christ, his equipment alone could provide for a class of students at a normal school, like- what the fuck? he didn’t even know what half the shit was- but, slightly less concerning but also very concerning, neither did niki or puffy.

they were now, however, giggling violently with the tv playing quietly in the background, as they picked on one another’s taste in music.
“niki- you- you seriously like jack stauber? of all people?”
“hey! his music is creative, and fun, and i just do, okay?”
“whatever you say girl, you do you!”
“shut up puffy- coming from an avid glass animals fan? you can’t say much!”
“niki!”
the two girls bickered, no true malice behind their words. he found himself laughing alongside them, until focus was shifted rather abruptly to him.
“hey- wil, what music do you like?”
a pause for silence.
what music did he like?
“uh, it’s - its a lot, you could say. i mean- there’s not really one artist that i-“
“cut it wil, i know that’s not true. who?”
niki cut him off, and he smiled sheepishly.
“i have been caught.”
“indeed, good sir. now fess up!”
they all chuckled at the bit, an idea rapidly forming in his brain-
“hey, what- what if i played one of their songs? see if you recognised it?”
the girls eyes seemed to triple in size, am amazed shock forming on their features.
“you- you can play your favourite song on the guitar?”
he grinned, a sense of pride and validation filling him somewhat unexpectedly, as he nodded.
“mhm.”
“dude, you gotta play for us!”
puffy’s tone was so genuinely exited that he couldn’t help but laugh, sending niki and puffy into cascading fits of laughter as well, niki making fun of puffy between gasps for breath and throaty laughs.
he had calmed down though, somewhat, so he grabbed his guitar case from the bed next to them which he had set it on, and opened it, basking in the familiarity of running his fingers along t he polished wood, the comforting weight of the light pick in his hand. he soon had it rested in his grasp, quietly tuning the strings as niki and puffy’s laughter died down slowly, giving him ample time.
which of his favourite bands would he choose? he had a few, but he narrowed it down as he recalled which ones he had actually bothered to try and learn at some point or the other.
soon, there were 2 options of song floating in his head, both ones he could preform probably with his eyes shut. after careful consideration, though, he decided to be blatant, opting to play the more well-known of the two tunes, before letting his fingers drift across the strings and begin strumming, applying pressure to the ends of the stings on the bride like a methodical dance, each application of pressure drawing out a different, perfect-fitting note to form the melodic harmony that started to drift though the air. for the first second or two, niki and puffy seemed confused, but as he began repeating the notes he was playing, shifting slightly for a key change or two, they both seemed to sharpen with realisation, stopping for a brief second to classify what they were hearing, before breaking down into groans and laughters filled with ‘oh my god’s and ‘seriously’s as they stared at him, somewhat incredulously. he just huffed to suppress his laughter at their outspoken reactions, and continued to let himself play, humming quietly along to the tune, getting lost in the familiar rhythm.

puffy and niki started belting out lyrics (not really, more like whisper-shouting; it was getting a bit late- 10 o’clock.) to the parts of the song they could, which only encouraged him to play on, a smile gracing his lips as he remained laser-focused on the task at hand.
“dude, i had no idea you were into that kind of thing!”
“niki, ew, don’t make it sound like a kink.”
“i - i never implied that- i-“
she stuttered at his monotonous response, flushing with embarrassment as puffy and himself broke down into fits of laughter.
“that’s not what i meant, wil! i didn’t think you’d be the type to like mother mother, is all.”
he let an over-dramatic sigh fall from his lips as he began putting his instrument away, inwardly wincing slightly at having to pack it away. he’d love to just play it forever, but he knew he couldn’t.
“well, now you know!”
he replied in a cheery tone, trying to give back the exhaustion that had slowly been creeping up on him for the duration of their conversation.
“but seriously, out of all their songs- you chose ‘hayloft’? why not like, ghosting? isn’t that more guitar-y?”
puffy’s voice was an octave higher, still broken with breathy laughter and ghost wheezes as her words sent niki back into a fit of rowdy laughter. in return, he just raises an eyebrow, a smug grin crossing his features. before anyone could try so much as to stop him, the guitar was out once again- rested firmly in his lap, pick grasped in his right hand.
“dude wait- no-“
she tried to stop him, but he continued anyways,
“puffy it’s more of a violin song, for a little, anyways. but, it’s whatever. i can do it.”
then, like he had so many times before, his fingers began to move- dancing along the strings in a familiar pattern, playing gently as he spoke. then, when the time came to it, he began to sing along. ghosting was a song he wasn’t afraid to sing, it’s lyrics weren’t as morbid as hayloft’s,

he broke eye contact with puffy after a few seconds, focusing more on the positioning of his fingering, making sure he didn’t slip up. the lyrics were familiar, natural on his tongue as he sang them note by note, a sense of pride filling him at the familiar melody he managed to produce, all on his own.

unbeknownst to him, however, puffy had picked up her tablet again- swiping previously open tabs and programs closed, before opening a much more... familiar app. she started talking quietly, but he didn’t pick up on the words, assuming she was just muttering to niki.
‘new kids got talent, alex and him might get along well.’
‘say that again. my cousin has a musical ear,’

by the time he had finished, puffy dropped the tablet from its slightly tilted-up position to lay flats on the bed, an expression of glad bewilderment gracing her features. a similar one mirrored on niki’s face, softer across her features, though.
“dude, you’re like- amazing at that, what the heck?”
he chuckled, spewing out a reply of ‘i’ve been doing this since i was 5.’ - or along those lines, he was still left dazed in a slightly thoughtless state, one he’d find himself in after he played- mind clear of thought, just revelling in the fading notes of the music as they died within his ears and his mind.
“you’re good at improv too, right? you mentioned it last time you visited us in germany-“
niki asked, the question being the final reel for his mind, coming back to face reality once more.
“uh- not improv, no. i can listen to a song and pick it up fairly quickly, though. it’s called perfect pitch, i think.”
he didn’t know if that was the word for it- charlie would always just call it ‘auto-tune’ whenever he did it, but he thought that was the right title.
it was true, though- he could listen to a song (as long as it had an identifiable harmony) maybe once or twice, then play it back in almost perfect repetition on the guitar. it would take a few tries to get exactly right, but it was a remarkable talent that he had but he didn’t really know where it came from, it was just something he... could do.

suddenly, his brain processed the sound of.. more laughter? it sounded like 3 or 4 other other voices laughing along, with ‘wow’s and ‘seriously’s thrown in the mix, he turned to the two girls he was sharing a room with, confused, which sent them into vicious fits of giggles and gasps.
“calm down, oh- oh my god, calm down! you’re all gonna pass out if you- if you don’t-“
the voice was cut off by a wheeze. a very much familiar wheeze.
“are you- are you on a call with someone?”
he staggered, embarrassment beginning to tense up his body. before puffy or niki could reply, a voice from the call cut him off-
“damm, virgo! it’s like the rest of us don’t exist!”
“schlatt that is not my name-“ indignation coursed through him, temporarily blinding him to his embarrassment, before a voice he didn’t recognise broke through the general chorus of laughter.
“virgo? schlatt, what the hell kinda nickname is ‘virgo’ for a brit named wilbur?”
the tone was playful, though the accent was, once again unfamiliar. a smile breached his face when schlatt replied, though, finding his quip to be rather humours.
“c’mon, q! he’s a virgo! besides, blame the motherfucker who named the stars virgo, not me!”
the air was filled with laughter from the other callers, when dream spoke again-
“schlatt gave him a heart attack- wilbur is actually a virgo, so-“
“oi- how do you know so fuckin’ much you bastard? did you stalk him or some shit?”
“hey- language!”
he was swept up in laughing at them more so than figuring out who was speaking, finally seeing them as puffy, trembling with laughter, hooked up her tablet (with an extension cable he had never seen before in his life, mind you-) to the tv and shared screens.
there were 4 participants on the call- bar himself, niki and puffy.
one was familiar- sort of. it was dream and schlatt- but there were two other- boys? in the background of their frame, arguing rather loudly.
then there was another boy with dark, greasy-looking hair hidden mostly by a black beanie. he smiled a toothy grin and his eyes crinkled with amusement at the general chaos.
next to him on screen was the girl he’d heard earlier- the heavy-accented one who’d sworn like there was no tomorrow. he was slightly perplexed for a moment, before just accepting the fact that her shoulder-length hair was dyed a deep shade of purple.
lastly, he assumed the final person was the squeaky-voiced kid who’d tried to chide the girl for her vulgarity. he looked short, was his first impression. he had dark eyes and equally as dark hair, a look of confusion, amusement and wariness plastered into his face.
talk about conflicting emotions.
“wil- wilbur- wil, these are some of our classmates! they- they’re in our year,”
niki explained, pausing occasionally due to (he assumed) her lack of breath from laughing so much. he was trying to suppress his laughter, but it cracked through his voice as he replied.
“oh, really?”
when had he gotten so comfortable? it was in the back of his mind- maybe music had calmed him down? niki was his friend- his family, so- of course he was comfortable around her but- puffy? she was just approachable, he guessed: easy to adjust to- they bounced off of eachother in a way familiar to how he and...
he didn’t want to think about charlie yet. it was too soon, he reasoned, to plunge himself into those emotions. too soon to deal with the stress of those parting anxieties.
“you’ve met schlatt and dream- those kids in the back are tommy and tubbo; tubbo’s their brother but he and tommy are practically inseparable- like, joined at the hip. it’s a 2-for-1 deal.”
niki’s explanation of the loud figures who were being blatantly and calmly ignored by schlatt and dream made the image fall under a much more understandable light. he nodded, cracking a smile.
“next to them is alex- he prefers quackity for personal reasons, so there’s that.”
puffy picked up, pointing to the kid with the beanie on. he gave a mock-salut to the camera, drawing numerous chuckles and exasperated sighed from different parties.
“minx is the one with the fun hair, she’s irish.”
niki added, her tone somewhat softer. had he not known niki as well as he did, he’d have missed it. but, despite being separated for the past year, he’d spent enough time with her during the entirely of his childhood to notice when even the smallest of things changed.
“then you have bad, the biggest and most useless captain america imitator you’ll ever see. minus the costume, and the muscle, and the history, and the- okay, he’ll just yell at you whenever you swear, okay?”
puffy giggled, an indignant “hey!” slipping from - bad? - bad’s lips at the way puffy’s tone descended into a more mocking one.
“can i test that fucking theory?”
he quipped, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. in the heartbeat of silence that followed, panic and fear almost pushed itself unto the surface of his being, before being quickly shut down by another indignant “hey! language!” from bad, promptly cascading everyone else into yet another violent fit of laughter.
he would get whiplash from how hard his emotions took their turns there, jeez man.

they bantered a little bit more, and he slowly felt himself unraveling - unwinding his anxieties and being more himself, in a way. he felt as though it would never be the same, however, that nothing would ever be quite like his only pre-existing friendship which he had abandoned back in london. that by no means meant that what he was building with these people would be bad- no, far from it; it would be unique to each individual, new and exiting to him. it just, wouldn’t be the same.
nothing would ever be the same.
the thoughts weighed heavily on his mind, adding to the pent-up exhaustion which he was beginning to show.
he was sluggish, slow to reply- zoning out for minutes at a time.

he felt an unfamiliar fuzziness in his stomach, a feeling he opted to credit to his newfound and budding friendships (he hoped) and the room-service dinner they’d ordered not too long ago.
it was getting late- the sun had set and the stars were out, people had started dropping off the call. eventually, minx left and then it was just him, puffy and niki. the call ended and his cousin gave in to a yawn, which puffy immediately caught and yawned herself. he didn’t, but his eyes were dangerously close to fluttering closed and not opening for a good while yet.
“i’m gonna go get my stuff sorted a bit, i’ll be in the bathroom.”
puffy announced, standing up with a small stretch. she plucked some cozy-looking clothes from her open suitcase (he assumed they were pjs) as well as a plastic bag that appeared to contain her toiletries. he could only nod whereas niki gave her a verbal response, not a really large one, though- it was a small mumble of ‘alright.’.
he got up and somewhat blindly did the same with his suitcase, having to go through the struggle of opening the cursed thing first, though. he picked a thin grey sweater and some pyjama shorts for his nighttime attire, having no intention of cooking like a roasted chicken during the night. when niki went to go fetch something from the room her mother was sleeping in, he took his opportunity to get changed without the awkward presence of another person in the room. he let his sweater lay over the back of one of the chairs at the table, but folded his jeans and placed them back into his suitcase- but not closing it. puffy emerged from the bathroom soon after, toiletry bag still in hand. she placed it on the desk at her beside, and he took his turn to go to the bathroom, bringing his small toiletry bag with him. once in the bathroom, he brushed his teeth and quickly rinsed his face off with cold water, before packing his things back up and leaving once more. when he got back, niki had emerged from her mother’s room, a hairbrush now in her hands. he caught the incredulous look puffy gave her, but didn’t have the strength to comment on it himself. he just managed to plonk himself onto his bed, staring out the window once again, now lit by the luminance of the moon. he decided it would be best to close the curtains on the window, so he did, using almost all of his remaining energy to draw them shut properly. his body began feeling heavy and it ached with exhaustion. he did, however, grab another small thing from his suitcase before he got back into his bed, holding it close to his chest as he walked bleary-eyed and as he slipped under the covers. the stuffed animal still smelt faintly like home, like his room and his memories, it made him feel safe- warding off all his bad thoughts and feelings with its familiar scent bathing his senses. he was out almost as soon as his eyes shut, resulting in him completely missing the soft and practically symmetrical looks puffy and niki gave eachother when they spotted him cuddling up to a shark plush in his sleep.

Chapter Text

most of the morning had been a bit of a panicked blur, if he was honest. niki forgot to set the alarm, and his auntie had to come in when they had a mere 15 minutes spare when she got suspicious of their... silence. considering the racket they must have made the night prior, he wasn’t all that surprised.
they all scrambled- he rushed to do his teeth and wash his face with cold water briefly whilst niki and puffy scrambled to get dressed. they were by the time he was done. following that, they did a little switch- the girls taking their sweet time with their toiletries (he wasn’t sure if they wore makeup- maybe a little? poor them, what a hassle-) as he got into another pair of ripped jeans and another thin sweater, this one maroon in colour.
he literally only owned sweaters. no exaggeration- it was all he felt comfortable wearing most times, if not ever.

he spent the remainder of his time brushing his fingers through his hair, so it didn’t look like as much of a ragged mess that it was. it took a little while, but he got the desired effect. now with his glasses on, he went to pack his guitar- something he hadn’t managed to do the night prior because he fell asleep so promptly. he was by no means awake, still groggy and half-asleep, slight shadows under his eyes as proof of his jet-lag, yet he could still function off instinct as he carefully put both the instrument and the pick back in its case. thankfully, he had remembered to charge his phone (did he? it was it niki or puffy? last night was still a bit of a haze, he was too tired to think straight anyways) so it was on full when he slipped it into his pocket. being the owner of quite an old model, he instantly turned the device onto low-power mode and silent, not wanting to loose more power than was necessary. (maybe also so he didn’t have to pick up his phone and realise he had a notification from charlie: even in his half-asleep state he knew he wasn’t prepared to face that yet.)

his auntie was somewhat unimpressed at niki and puffy’s frantic dash to prepare their things- they weren’t even the ones getting their equipment from scratch- they just needed a few bits and pieces that all second-year students were required to have at the start of the term. the semester? he wasn’t going to get used to that, not anytime soon. he, on the other hand, was pretty much good to go already, yet was going to the academy’s... supplier? warehouse? - the place where he would pick up all the equipment he needed, had pieces fit to him specifically. like, a super decked-out and teched-out school shop.

an unease settled in the back of his mind, turning to ask his aunt about the cost of all the school supplies. from what he’d seen niki and puffy claim as ‘school-tech’ and from what they’d described, it was... not an image painted to be cheap, let’s say. his aunt just gave a reassuring smile, saying that ‘it was all given by the school’ and that he ‘needn’t worry about those things’.

of course he took his aunt by her word, but the unease was still ever-present in his mind, despite being suppressed.

“alright, girls: do you have everything you need?”

“yes ma,”
“yes maria.”

puffy’s affirmation was much less convincing in his eyes, since the curly-haired brunette was grappling with a hairbrush and viciously attacking a stupidly stubborn knot, by the looks of it.
if he thought his vaguely curly hair was a mess, that head of hair would be an absolute nightmare. so curly and- so long. he couldn’t imagine having longer hair than he had, the mere concept sent shivers down his spine. hair maintenance was such a nuisance.

once that war had been won, his aunt lead them through the maze of corridors and back to the main lobby- somehow, my god the instructions were atrocious, how did she manage to find the elevator? it was tucked away around a corner after taking a right turn after exiting left from their hotel room, and all the hallways were identical, bar the room numbers.
christ this woman was a wizard.

making sure everyone had their room cards before they left the lobby (smart on her part, once again), they left back for the car park, the heat once again somewhat oppressive against his skin- less so this time as his top was considerably thinner in fabric and his jeans had larger rips, which in turn helped ventilate them? less fabric was stuck pressed against his skin, which he was very much grateful for. niki was absolutely rocking a pink sleeve-less tee and a grey skirt, a sweater designed to look cool rather than insulate her body thrown over her top, a harsher shade of pink. he thought the outfit complemented her hair very nicely, fitting with her white socks and sticker-adorned trainers. puffy, on the other hand, paraded around in some trendy jean-shorts, a rainbow patch sown or ironed (he couldn’t tell) onto one of its back pockets. she had a black (tank top? he wasn’t quite sure what the word for it was) top on and pulled the look together with a red leather jacket- which was, on closer inspection, actually more of a velvet-like fabric, not actual leather.
reaching the car in as minimal amount of time as humanly possible, they all got into the car, buckling their seatbelts as his aunt started fiddling with the gps system. the seat was uncomfortably hot, and he yet again began to question why people livi in such a sun-bathed state thought it was a good idea to have black cars, the added heat just made his eyelids feel heavy again, only just managing to make them feel lighter a few seconds prior. the sun glared almost irritatingly in the corner of his eye, but he managed to enjoy the light somewhat, not used to the odd creeping warmth that filled him as it hit. he was much more used to the sun’s flare being a visual irritation and nothing more; rather than it being the heating device it was here.

picking his phone from his back pocket, (double checking once again, just to be sure, that his room key-card was safely in his phone’s case, pressed up against his phone’s back) he opened his messages for the first time since he left london to check on who had contacted him.
as he thought, there were only 2 new messages.
one from his mother, wishing him ‘safe travels’ and telling him to ‘be responsible’ from the day she dropped him off at the airport.
the other was from earlier that morning, or- well, 2am, according to his phone. he made a mental note to switch his phone’s timezone to floridian time before they arrived at the warehouse (he wasn’t fully sure what it was, but for simplicity’s sake he was calling it the ‘warehouse’). it was quite short, and simply read: ‘hey dude. hope you had a safe flight. call me when you can?’

it was slightly out of character, but then again- he’d just been whisked off to america on a whim’s notice, so, yeah it was most definitely justified. mustering up all the courage he could in his half-sleeping state, he shot back a quick reply of his own.
‘hey dude! sorry, timezones are nasty motherfuckers. maybe when you’re not meant to be asleep? i may be busy, this school is what.’
delivered.
before he could really stop himself, he was plugging in his headphones and playing ‘panic! at the disco’s ‘death of a bachelor’ album, staring out the car window as the unfamiliar terrain started to pass by.

—🥂—

his headphones were off, and he started to zone back into the general conversation that the rest of the car’s inhabitants were having.
already, he couldn’t help but give niki a very much confused look.
“i’m just saying! i thought he knew what he was doing- it’s not my fault the thing practically imploded!”
“niki, darling, you knew the risks- you shouldn’t tamper with your things like that, you know-“
“niki! dream told you it may blow up, what are you on about?”
niki cast puffy a glare (with no real heat behind her eyes, though) from her seat in the middle, replying with a surprisingly angry and heated voice, though his minor worries of it being real anger faded away as he picked up on the amusement in her tone.
“i thought he was being sarcastic! what else would you take from him? this is dream!”
puffy began snorting her laughter, and he felt himself being brought to chuckles at the friendly argument.
“what- what’s this about blowing up? niki, what- what did you do?” he spoke, voice light as he pressed for answers. she gave him an agonised look, obviously fake once again, groaning in an exaggerated fashion, “wilbur you do not want to know.”
his aunt huffed fondly from her driver’s seat, puffy pulling as straight a face she could to explain to him.
“niki let dream tamper with her monitor bracelet, and- before you ask: no, i won’t explain what that is. the person getting all your equipment fit will bore you with the details when it comes to it.”
he raised a brow, making a snarky comment on dream’s tech skills, which were lacklustre from the description of the scenario he’d been given. niki and puffy seemed to roll their eyes in unison, explaining how he was usually much more apt with technology, and this seemed to be a bit of a one-off. that wasn’t to say he hadn’t blown up other projects before, not at all; things always seemed to blow up when they went wrong with him, and was currently sitting at a sound 7 blown up projects over the past year that the two had known him.
“bloody hell! you’d think it was some sort of competition, how- how the hell do you even manage that?”
niki laughed, but puffy gave him a look of frantic approval:
“see! i’m not the only sane one! i don’t get it, either.”
he laughed at that, suspicion working its way into his gut when he saw the sly look niki cast puffy, making her blanch slightly.
“puffy, you know it is! remember that one time in new chem when sapnap-“
“NIKI OH MY GOD NO-“
then, before any proper explanation was given, they broke down in fits of rather violent (and concerning) laughter. if it continued at this rate, they would surely drop from a lack of oxygen.
it took all of 10 minutes to calm them down, but they all fell into laughter when puffy brought out her phone and showed him a concerning 3 minute video of a boy with black hair, standing at a desk with various chemicals in vials lined up in an orderly fashion. a brunette with sunglasses and a blue tee was pointing at his notes, trying to re-explain what he assumed was classwork to dream: he was stood beside the boy with darker hair, a bandana wrapped around his head.
then, without warning, no reason at all- the boy in the bandanna tapped dream, who cast him a mildly irritated look. he couldn’t see the boy’s face, but niki told him it was the largest shit-eating grin she’d ever seen. quote, case and point.
the kid proceeded to pull out a lot match from- somewhere? and then he- christ alive this kid set the fucking chemical vials on fire, and- what was to be expected? they fucking burst into flames, laughing emanating from his figure all the while. the camera then proceeded to shake beyond visual recognition, screaming and howls of laughter and prominent ‘sapnap what the FUCK’s being launched into the air, before the clip stopped.

he had a hard time evening out his breathing after that, too.
these guys were his classmates?

—🥂—

it could have only been a maximum of a half hour, maybe? they had been in the car for almost an hour; having listened to music for 20 or so odd minutes, before being swept up into conversation with his fellow to-be-classmates/cousin & co/friends(?). but, after having their laughter quelled with a short passing of time, his aunt pointed out a large building, much like a storage house in looks- bar the solar panels that lived on its roof and the school logo that was printed into one of its side walls. that, and the fact that it was on a chunk of land that was separated from the rest of the land mass they were on (they had crossed a few bridges, and a ‘national swamp’ he thought? he wasn’t too familiar with the floridian terrain), joint by a rather fancy looking white bridge; sleek and modern in design, unlike the warehouse itself. they all grew quiet as his aunt began to talk them through what was going to happen, mirrored looks of something- nostalgia? painted across puffy and niki’s faces. his aunt made quick work of parking the car in the lot, noticing how there were at least 5 other cars already there.
“alright, wilbur honey? someone’s going to help get all of your stuff sorted, but they’re gonna need to walk you through it, okay? we’ll be in there with you, niki and puffy need a few of their things touched-up,”
a firm glare at the two, who chucked and smiled slightly uncomfortably under the look.
“it’s going to take a little while, but, it has to be done. alright sweetie?”
he nodded, “alright.” hopping out the car after unbuckling his seatbelt alongside niki and puffy. the walk out the parking lot and across the bride was quick, but he made sure to admire the landscape as much as he could during it. there was a small sandy bank, ocean waves lapping gently against them. behind the fences there was grassy land, trees and plants that were exotic and foreign to him lining the earth. the salty breeze was odd yet not unwelcome, the soft cooling it provided against the sun was so unlike the harsh and cold winds of any english beach he’d been to: not many.

there was a rather large sliding door, which they entered once it had been moved by some sort of feedback from a worker inside the building when his auntie had pressed the buzzer and answered the automated response with the names of all the children she had with her. the warehouse was a huge space, the front half nearest the door being mainly open- benches lining the walls and a table in the centre, a large ‘front desk’ or ‘reception desk’ to the left of the warehouse from where you entered. there were a few rows of shelves behind the front desk, filled with books and unopened boxes with labels he couldn’t quite read yet from the distance. the rest of the warehouse was, well, as you’d imagine: a warehouse; shelves in rows upon rows almost reaching the high ceiling of the building spanning its length. there were boxes of items he couldn’t see, but he went as far as to assume they were filled with the tech equipment puffy and niki had told him about the night prior.

“okay, you guys go sit at the desk. i’ll see if one of the employees can get you settled, alright? wil, you’ll be up first since your stuff will take the longest, okay hun?”
“okay, ma, good luck!”
“thank you, maria!”
“o-okay, thanks..?”

his voice wavered slightly, but before he could dwell on it, puffy was already tugging him along to the table in the centre of the open space. it looked like a large park bench, but clean. and white. there were several other kids there, some of which he vaguely recognised from the call last night, but the others were a complete mystery to him.

“hey guys!” niki called, sitting down next to the girl with the purple hair from t he call last night. the residents at the table all gave them a greeting, from small ‘hi!’s to ‘hello,’s and even one ‘hey niki! hey puffy!’ from the kid with the kinda squeaky voice that he identified as ‘bad’, once again from the call.
“this skyscraper the new fucker?”
minx’s voice was heavily accented, yet he was still unable to pinpoint where it was from.
the profits of never travelling outside of england, huh?
his nerves began to prick against the surface of his skin, however, giving a crooked smile in response. minx just scoffed, though he was unsure if it was at niki’s introduction to him (“yup! this ‘skyscraper’ is my cousin, wilbur!”) or his blatant social anxiety among these people he’d never met before.
“hey, i don’t think we’ve met yet? i’m karl.” he turned to look at a boy in a multi-coloured hoodie, though the colours all matched fairly well and didn’t stray too far from the purple of the torso of the pice of clothing. his hair was a ruffled mop of light brown, a midway tone between hazel and blond which matched the brown of his eyes. somehow, he managed to make eye contact with him and give a weak smile, replying in a similar fashion (though, pathetically obviously more nervous).
“we- no we haven’t. like niki said, i’m wilbur.”
karl just flashed him a smile, but it was too early for him to read if it was genuine or not, so he just pressed the peddle to the metal and through all caution to the wind, and assumed it was a real smile.

“i don’t believe we’ve met, either. i’m sam, this is my little brother, ranboo.”
his attention was turned to one of the other boys, this one appearing much larger (taller, it was probably taller. he couldn’t tell exactly though, because they were all sat down by now. including him.) then the likes of karl or niki, clad in a deep, rich green t-shirt that was a bit of a mis-matching cut, as it was short-sleeved but also bore a turtleneck that covered practically the entirety of his neck. he had dark brown hair, tips in the front dyed a similar green to his shirt, however, and wore a green face mask. all wilbur had to go off of was his eyes, really. and his posture- which read to him as somewhat exited, if not a bit nervous from the tense-ish looking outline of his shoulders.
“that’s me- i, i’m ranboo.”
a second voice, and his attention was turned to the slightly smaller (which was still larger than all the other people there, mind you. these guys were no small feat) boy next to sam, decked out in a white-collared shirt and a red tie. the cuffs of the shirt were pulled up to his elbows, but he had bandages wrapped around both his forearms- one white and one black, leaving his hands untouched. he gave as weak a greeting to them as he did to karl, too busy searching for the right word for ranboo.
what was it? ver- vert- vert-something, it was the name for when your skin was slightly off-colour, no?
vitiligo! that was it. ranboo was slightly paler than you could consider normal, but he had patches of pigment-less skin on his face, practically splitting it half-and-half. his hair must have been dyed to match, as the hair to the right of his parting was black, and the hat to its left was bleached white. his fluffy hair covered his ears, and wilbur could tell from how he kept his eyes on the table and the persistent picking of his fingernails that he was nervous, if not more nervous than him. he cast his gaze away, looking somewhat pointedly at schlatt and dream, who were pointedly asking him questions again.
“so, virgo,”
“-that’s not my name schlatt,”
“you ready to get geared-up and decked out?”
he had a teasing smirk on his face, eyebrows raised. he couldn’t fight the unimpressed look that filtered across his face. rising to meet his eyes, not one to back down.
it was in the back of his mind- ‘all these people, so many people, don’t know, strangers, don’t fuck it up-‘
“mr. soot? wilbur soot?” his head flicked to turn and look at the person who’d called his name. it was an average-sized lady in a pale green top and a skirt, a white lab coat with the name ‘megan’ clipped onto one of its pockets. he nodded,
“yeah. that’s me.”
“alright, could you please follow me so we can begin your fitting?”
he swallowed,
“of course.”
he didn’t like the use of the word, ‘fitting’. the way the word rolled off the tongue didn’t settle right with him, folding his arms and gripping at his arms to prevent them from loosely hanging at his sides for the time being. she led him to one of the rows of shelves nearest the leafy side of the warehouse, immediately sifting through one of the boxes. when he looked, he saw her glancing over and occasionally picking up and inspecting one of the items, glancing at him, before putting it back. when she finally turned to give it to him, he saw it was some type of watch. it looked more like a fitbit (not that he’d ever had one), with a screen that displayed different bits and pieces instead of a clock (it still had a digital one, though). he listened quite keenly to what the woman was saying, trying to absorb all the information and making it stick.
“this is your monitor, alright? it’s our most basic pice of tech to give to students, and what it does is measure your heartbeat, temperature, location and has your personal key-card built into the programme.”
she emphasised her words by showing him how each of the features worked, having securely adjusted it to his skinny wrist.
“your key-card grants you access to the different rooms in the academy. the keys are just an extra security precaution, and just to make sure you don’t end up someplace your not meant to be.”
that made sense. it was only normal to expect such a high-tech school would have a system like that, right?
“if desired you can also upload maps of your class rota for each day, so you know where you need to go. digital variations of your timetable can also be added, if you want. you can ask one of your friends how to do that, if you want to.”
he nodded, keeping his eyes fixated in the device. it was sleek, black in colour with no real visible way to take it off. when he looked at its underside, he saw it required some sort of key, or item to unlock.
“these are to be kept on at all times, understood? they require admin powers to remove and it is essential you don’t try to break it, okay? the only times they’re prohibited to be taken off are if they’re out of commission or too tight for your wrist.”
he nodded, replying in as even a voice he could whilst inspecting his new gadget.
“of course.”
“great! next we need to sort out your tablet, then we need to go through your semester-specific gear. you’re part of the valhalla project, correct? i have you written down as one,”
the fucking what? he wasn’t too keen on mystic and myths but that was the name of some sort of secret, ancient afterlife. right?
“u-uh, i- i’ve not really been... been told. what- what i’m doing. so. i- yeah.”
she seemed to hum at that, scribbling a small note on the clipboard she had with her. he seemed to look in slight confusion at one of the notes, which he wasn’t able to see from where he was stood. actually, from where he was stood, he couldn’t really read any of the notes, but he thought he was safe to assume the notes were on or of him.

flashing a brief smile, she turned and asked him to follow along again. he did, gaze flickering slowly from item to item along the shelves that he passed. he saw an array of items, ranging from odd-looking scuba gear, to different-looking outfits (specialised for different climates, he assumed?), to what he thought were virtual reality headsets- to, literally to walkie-talkies.
this place really had it all.
occasionally, the woman would stop and pick up an item or two, saying she had ‘forgot to pack it in his pre-packed order.’. apparently, a lot of the basic equipment that didn’t need specific tailoring to him had been packaged before he arrived, which he was thankful for because he didn’t want to be wandering these rows of shelves forever, no matter how interesting.
the next item the woman- megan- stopped to talk him through was, in fact, his tablet.
it was similar to a normal device, but just... not quite.
“this is your tablet. you can custom-build a password for it when you get home, then sync it up with your monitor watch when you get back to your hotel,”
(how had she known he was staying in a hotel?)
“you’ll receive your tasks and specialised work through your tablet, as well as digital archives of all the material you go through in your classes. you can use this pen to take notes and diagrams in the designated locations if desired. these are charges through the charging stands on your bedside desks, so make sure you don’t forget to recharge it, even though it has a 18 hour better life.”
he watched her go through each of the functions, explaining it to him and answering each of his questions.
(‘how does it charge?’, ‘can you sync more data with the- the monitor watch?’, ‘can you share files’, ‘can you take photos for note-taking’, etc.)
once that was done and packed up, the box being handed to him to carry around, she moved on, taking him straight to another isle to look at several different items, among them being special shoes, at least 2 full specialised outfits (ranging from fit-to-swim to fit-to-track through a jungle), a headset that was actually for communication and a singular walkie-talkie, specifically yellow in colour. there were colours ranging from red, to blue, to green, to black and white- yet the woman was dead-set on handing him a yellow one, getting a bit. worked up and fussy when she couldn’t find one at first.
odd? yellow was one of his favourite colours, so he wasn’t... upset? it was strange, maybe something to do with the fact that he was joining in second instead of first year?
probably. was everyone’s’ joining time shown by the colour of their walkie-talkie?
it was florida, god knows what weird shit they were up to.

taking a few final notes, she smiled at him and told him they were all done, and that the rest of the equipment was ready for him to pick up at the front desk. she then walked him back to the front of the warehouse, asking him to hold on for a second whilst she grabbed a bag for him, alongside the rest of his school things. he just nodded, trailing slightly behind her, though keeping up with her quick-pace remarkably well.
(how did someone walk that fast in heels, anyways?)

it only took a minute, but she was back with a backpack, again: yellow. was this just, like a thing now? she helped him put all his things away (they were surprisingly compact, the bag appeared much smaller than it actually seemed to be), making sure to not forget the extra stuff she had in the back. it was more mundane equipment, from what he saw, things like books and a regular-looking camera, pens and pencils. a clipboard and a pamphlet as well, but she quickly removed said pamphlet before he could so much as look at anything other than its colour scheme.
it was a mix of blues, golds and purples; like the school’s logo.

once he was set, megan set him off and he wandered back to the table (ranboo and minx were now gone, however) when niki waved him over. she didn’t stay long, though, since megan came with a rather unimpressed look, reading some documents off her clipboard.
“niki? it says here you managed to implode your monitor watch?”
she grinned sheepishly, though he couldn’t detect any sense of true regret behind her eyes.
megan sighed, beckoning her to follow her before taking her towards the general direction of where he had been taken. he didn’t exactly recall quite where the monitor bands were stocked, but they were in the general vicinity from what he recalled. turning back to the table, a few of the other kids were giving him... looks.
he couldn’t quite place it, but it made his skin crawl, like the feeling of being judged but, not? it was pitying, sad almost but also exited? there were lots of emotions that he couldn’t really pinpoint, since he had never met most of these people before in his life. he swallowed, a nervous edge balancing in his mind. he looked down, looking at his hands after he put his stuff down, resulting in him missing the firm glare puffy gave sam, schlatt and dream, letting it roam to all who dared meet it. by the time he looked up, she was grinning at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes,
“well? pretty cool, huh?”
“i- what do you even use half this stuff for?” he asked, pushing away his anxiety with a tone of exasperation in his voice. scoffs and giggles, before bad shuffled over to him, offering his help. he smiled, a somewhat fond look crossing his features. he puffed, before launching into the questions he had not had the confidence to ask megan.
“why do they need to track our locations constantly?”
“for trips and safety, of course! they send us out in groups sometimes, it’s easier to track us. also, if one of us gets ourself kidnapped or lost, we can always be found! we even have distress pings, see?”
how was he so... casual? casually flinging kidnapping into the conversation was not normal. he thought?
maybe it was just an american thing.
“what are the outfits for?”
“they’re expedition gear, silly! they take us on trips and missions out in the jungle or the ocean or anywhere really: we need them to keep comfy and safe!”
“what’s the valhalla project?”
“...”

bad looked at him, a perplexed look crossing his features. with each passing moment, he felt as though he could read him better than the last, subconsciously taking note of each subtle twitch and tug of his features. he always liked knowing how others felt, so that he could properly gauge their reactions to different scenarios and topics. he hated being yelled at more than anything, or loud arguments including him. this was just the safest way to avoid it.

“you’re going? they didn’t tell you?”
he nodded, concern growing more and more each passing moment.
“whooh boy, looks like we’re gonna have some words with phil, aren’t we?”
he turned to schlatt, who had an exasperated look plastered on his face. dream’s was somewhat similar, light with shock. he could see similar-looking expressions on everyone else’s faces.
“you’re on the list, but you don’t know what the valhalla project is?”
sam repeated, looking him in the eyes. they seemed creased with confusion, brows furrowed in a look of deep thinking. he nodded, swallowing, throat dry and rough as sandpaper. sam didn’t break the eye contact, until he blinked, casing his eyes to the side for a moment, before looking back at him.
“it’d be unfair to leave you in the dark, so... the valhalla is a boat. a, well, a school-yacht to be specific. if you’re on the list, you’re taking the year’s worth of semesters on the valhalla.”
“it’s like, boarding school but moving and on a boat. it’s fun! that’s what the third years say, at least.”
he looked from sam, then to bad. then back to sam and bad again, trying to gauge wether or wether not they were fucking with him.
he concluded that they weren’t.
“you- ... a... yacht?”
bad nodded enthusiastically, but everyone else either gave him a rather pointed and unusual look, or glanced among themselves, like he wasn’t in on some kind of secret conversation. his throat felt hoarse- a boat? sea travel? that was- gods, that was 10 times worse than a plane. at least if those crashed, you’d be guaranteed a quick death, hitting the land or the water. a boat? absolutely not. drowning was like, not being able to breath. it was everything his darkest fears whispered into the back of his brain, submerging him in the thoughts of drowning, cold and alone.
“what the fuck?”

Chapter Text

y’know, if he knew where the rest of wednesday went, he’d tell you. really. before he could really process much he was back in his hotel room at 10 o’clock, bedside light on, both puffy and niki asleep. they had spent the entirety of the car ride trying to calm him down, and he really handing which might have contributed to his haze for the rest of the day.
still, he was drifting through his apps when he opened up his messages.
2 unread.
charlie.
one said
‘good idea bro’
then, from 45 minutes ago:
‘you got some time now my dude?’
well, maybe he could...

one ring. two rings. three rings. nothing.
“wil? dude is that you?”
words seemed stuck, caught in the back of his throat and refusing to come out.
“ch-charlie?” he managed, despising how choked his voice sounded. he heard a sigh from the other end of the phone, unsure through the connection of it was exasperated, fond or irritated- or all 3. his confusion scared him slightly; he wasn’t used to being unable to read his best friend. former? we’re they still best friends, despite being on different continents? despite being in completely different-
“how’s it been, dude? whats it like?”
he paused, trying to find the right words. this was charlie, for fucks sake. he could be honest!
“really fucking weird, charlie. seriously.”
he heard light laughter from the other end, which relaxed his nerves, comforting him. it was like his best friend was still there, listening to him, talking to him, beside him. like he’d never been abandoned by wilbur.
“oh? do spill, wil, i’m all ears.” wilbur could almost hear the grin on his face.
“it is really hot here. take the warmest we get in england, times it by 2 and that’s your average. doesn’t help everyone talks in fahrenheit. sorry, sir, 87 means fuck-all to me,” he went on, charlie tsk-ing and laughing at his antics. his voice was hushed, attempting to not disturb his sleeping... roommates?
he went on, though, pouring his heart out, words getting easier and easier to let fall from his tongue, charlie just reminding him that he was still there, on the other end of the line, with odd remarks and occasional questions. it got to the point where wilbur had asked how charlie was, desperate to know he was alright, that he wasn’t sad and alone, and no matter how much they’d joke about it before, wilbur really wanted him to be happy. charlie had gone on for a little while, talking about the new friend he made in the neighbour that moved in next door to him. he had just transferred from america, and his name was chris. they didn’t know much about eachother, but from what wilbur heard of him, he knew that they’d click.
“wilbur?”
“yeah?”
“what time is it? for you, i mean.”
he hummed, taking the phone away from his ear to check the time. at some point line the line, he had remembered to change his phone into the right timezone, so it now proudly declared that it was 11.47pm.
they had been talking and laughing quietly for almost 2 hours.
“uh, almost midnight.”
“dude! you have school tomorrow, what gives? go to bed!”
his protests were weak, and in under 5 minutes he had been thoroughly convinced and they said there goodbyes.
of wilbur felt an ache growing deep in his gut, a primitive sadness when they got off the call, he didn’t bring it up. instead, he plugged his phone in, got under the covers, thanked whatever deity was out there that he had gotten prepared for bed before the call, snuggled up close with his shark plush, and closed his eyes, willing himself to go to sleep.
it took a good half hour, but he fell asleep. it was difficult to ignore the thoughts and emotions running through his head, making it throb with a slight pain as everything seemed louder by 10fold in his ears.

the morning was hectic and honestly, quite wild. it was a mad dash to get ready, despite having an alarm set. they had a good 40 minute drive ahead of them, so they had to work fast if they wanted to be ready for school. damm, that felt weird. he was still working on an english clock, he was still meant to be on holiday but yet, here he was: going back to school after only 5 days of pure mania.

despite that, they got there on time. in fact, they even had a few spare minutes. so, auntie maria said her goodbyes and set back off, and wow. he was really in it now, wasn’t he?
he was really doing this.
the bags they had packed for school had been taken by the front desk of the school (they had... a front desk. what even was this school?), to be carted off god knows where. they only had their backpacks now, his containing just what he deemed the necessities. phone, headphones, tablet, a reading book and his plushie.
call him childish, but he really needed the damn thing. he’d tell anyone who judged to fuck off.
he also had his guitar, safely tucked away in its case in his right hand. he never liked to part with it for too long, and he didn’t know when or if he’d see it again if he gave it to the woman at the front desk, so he kept it.

niki and puffy gravitated towards a figure he recognised to be minx, alongside some other people he couldn’t quite recognise. he stood, slightly awkwardly, alone in the hall, wandering through the apps on his phone, once again gravitating towards his unopened messages.
just one, from last night that he missed. from charlie.
‘gn bro. tell me how it goes tomorrow :)’
he couldn’t help but smile, a fondness tackling him at full-speed which surprised him, but he let himself feel happy over it, not wanting to dwell longer on the negativity of ‘oh, you’re never seeing him again. have fun!’
“what’re you smiling at, virgo? your girlfriend?”
a familiar voice rang out in his right ear, making him flinch with its abrupt volume. he turned to face the boy who had placed a mocking hand on his shoulder, eying him with a teasing glimmer in his eyes. looking at him he saw dream and 2 more people he wasn’t quite familiar with, but vaguely recognised from the video of the lab fire. he didn’t know their names yet.
he let his face morph into one of displeasure, eyes hardening from the soft edge they’d previously gained.
“seriously? schlatt, i thought you were a good judge of character, yet you decide to think i have a girlfriend? i don’t know if i should feel flattered or disappointed.” he decided a quick quip would suit best, and was proven right by the sputter he got in response, dream wheezing and slapping schlatt on the shoulder, whilst the two new(ish) faces looking impresses and amused.
“wh-what, what do you want me to say? your boyfriend? i don’t know you swung that way, virgo!”
well, that triumph lasted long, didn’t it? he immediately felt his jaw shut, swallowing thickly. his teeth grinder against eachother with the force he was keeping his mouth shut, and he could feel his face light up with a mixture of embarrassment and shame that he didn’t know it’s origins of. he averted his gaze, missing the look of mixed guilt, confusion and concern that schlatt cast dream.
“wilbur,”
schlatt started, but, he was stopped by a very loud and exasperated tone that he recognised.
it was british. british! he wasn’t alone!
“alright! wilbur, i don’t think we’ve met, i’m george!” he looked over at him, giving a broad grin. he still had those sunglasses - what were they called, ‘clout goggles’? and another blue tee with jeans. he offered a weak smile, looking to the kid who had almost blown puffy sky-high from the video as he spoke up.
“i’m sapnap. aka the only responsible one here,” he teased, earning unimpressed looks from everyone.
in closing himself.
“seriously?”
“yep. i’m the only reason they get to class on time,”
the other 3 groaned in unison, dream going so far as to facepalm.
“oh?” he tried to cover up his embarrassment from earlier with a smug tone. sapnap gave him... a look. he didn’t like it, it made him squirm. it heated, first almost but reserved and intrusive all at once? he couldn’t put a finger on it, so he pushed forward.
“funny. y’know, puffy showed me quite an amusing video the other day,”
at the mentions of puffy and ‘video’, sapnap’s features dropped almost comically, making everyone around him burst out laughing.
he nodded, “yep. wasn’t it you who started that fire?”
sapnap started sputtering, spewing nonsense of ‘she said she deleted that’ and ‘what the fuck’s and ‘how could she!’s until he was silenced by everyone turning to look at the adult figure that had entered the room. he was definitely a teacher, wearing a matching outfit similar in style and fabric to the one he’d been given for jungle-trekking. it was a skin-tight, white fabric tee-shirt with a repeated hexagonal pattern across its entirety. unlike his, which had slightly lighter lined hexagons, this professor’s were a darker grey, wearing a sleeveless vest over the top with multiple badges and patched arranged down its fronts, ranging from different terrain-like patches, to just plain traveler pins. he had his own tracksuit pants, which were black unlike their muted green ones. he was easily at least 6”2, with blonde hair and abnormally blue eyes.
“students, welcome back! or, welcome to the explorer academy, mate.”
his voice was strange, familiar yet also off. not in the sense that the accent reminded him at least somewhat of his own, but his aura, his ‘vibe’ was strangely familiar. warm and inviting, he may go as far to say.
it made him uncomfortable.
he held his gaze as he addressed him, trying to read the flashes of emotions that crossed his eyes. the professor was much harder to read than any of the other students, their eyes locking for an uncomfortably long period of time. something about this man refrained him from smiling back, barely suppressing his instinct to back away. it took everything in him to keep his gaze, almost as if in defiance.
“well, uh, c’mon guys! we need to set off, you’ve all got here on time, and we’re on a packed schedule!” he recovered quickly, turning away, addressing the now bigger group of kids. he couldn’t tear his eyes from him, though. there was something primitive inside him that told him to run away, to fight and to give in all at once. this teacher’s mere presence was setting off his fight or flight, what the hell?
“bro, what the fuck was that?”
he heard schlatt hiss in his ear, looking up to face the boy as they began to trail after the professor.
he hadn’t given himself an introduction.
“i don’t know, man. triggered my fight or flight, i guess. man’s got such a weird fucking vibe.”
he replied, looking away again. he was briefly entranced by the terrain around the school, being led through the literal mini jungle out the back to get to the docks.
“seriously? professor watson triggered your fight or flight? the dudes like, everyone’s dad. how the hell did you manage that?” dream hissed in his other ear, making him turn.
“if i knew i would tell you,” he replied, his voice holding an undertone of a growl. dream just gave him a confused look, before looking over his head ti schlatt that he couldn’t see.
damm their 6” tall asses.

through the parting of the trees, he could start seeing the white of the valhalla’s starboard. was that what it was called? he didn’t know if that was just the old-times name from history, or what it was actually called on modern ships. as they got closer he really realised that, ok, wow, this yacht was fucking huge. really though, it was possibly the biggest boat he’d ever seen. not that he’d seen many, of course, but still. he could even hear the shocked and awed gasps and whispers of the other students around him.
“okay kids! welcome to the explorer academy’s very own valhalla!” professor watson’s voice rang out down the docs, as he turned to face them, hands sweeping in a dramatic flourish. coming down the docks still, each student looked among one another, then to the boat once more in astonishment.
this was where they were going to be spending the year?
oh boy.

they reached the end of the docks, crowding a few feet behind the professor. there was a decent 10 foot gap between the water and the edge of the docks. the professor turned to them, before announcing:
“okay! give me a minute kids, me and the newbie have to have a word.”
he could feel his heart drop as the professor spoke, right foot inching back like a recoil, as if struck. as the teacher looked him in the eyes, he swallowed, the same feeling of panic from earlier filling him. it didn’t feel like panic, more so as paranoia, confusion, hatred, instinctual distrust but a longing to give in and forgive it for something it had never done. he walked over, cautious, guitar case still gripped firmly in his left hand. the teacher put a hand on his shoulder, a knowing look plastered onto his face, bending down to whisper in his ear.
“we’re going to have a chat later, m’kay? if you see anything weird, don’t freak. this is gonna be the new norm, okay?”
he stumbled back slightly, eyes wide because what the fuck?
actually. what. the fuck?
then he flashed a smile that he could only describe as evil, before grabbing something from his vest pocket and pressing a button on it.

before he could stammer out a question- because what the literal hell- he heard the whizz of mechanical parts straining, and a door about 5 or so feet above the water level opened, and the door (a good 2 meters wide, mind you) extended down like it was a fucking sci-fi movie, to line up with the edge of the docking platform and make a bridge.
what
the
hell.

the teacher started walking, but no one else did. he turned, casually walking the rest of the way backwards, like this was just ‘the norm’.
“your first tasks are to find your way around! get to your designated rooms, then meet in the chem lab. a map should have been sent to your monitor watches, so you should be good to go. good luck explorers! you got 2 hours”. then, like he hadn’t just done whatever the fuck he just did, he exited the entrance room of the boat, and straight-up left.

“what’re you gaping at? c’mon, virgo. this’ll be fun!”
schlatt slapped him on the back, making him flinch before he turned to look at him. the kids were all looking at eachother, then at their monitor watches. he turned to look at his own, and sure enough, when he turned it on, the first thing to pop up was now a map.
everyone was still whispering in hushed voices, quieting when someone pushed through to pass and start going on board the boat. it was a boy, maybe a bit taller than him, in a white dress-shirt and a red vest, similar to what the professor wore over his shirt. the sleeves were rolled up halfway, and he wore grey sweatpants. what he found most noticeable, though, was his hair: it was long, a decent way down his back, tied in a loose braid.
oh yeah, and it was pink. a soft, almost pastel pink.
he got on like it was nothing, like he was just walking home after a normal day, and disappeared around the same corner that the professor did. he gave schlatt a quizzical look, before dream came up on his other side again, more students beginning to make their way past.
“we’ll tell you later. c’mon, we have a boat to navigate.” dream said, before heading up the walkway onto the boat. when george and sapnap passed, he looked at schlatt once more who just shrugged, and they began walking together.
the hallways of the boat were spacious enough, but not too ridiculously large. the walls were a pristine white and the floor was carpeted and grey, lights blindingly white and, if he was being honest, a bit of an eyesore to look at.
he looked at his watch, swiping a few times as the map jumped from floor to floor. just trailing dream’s friends, he concluded that they were on the 4th floor right now, there were 2 floors above and then the top deck. there were an extra 2 floors on the top deck, the blue flashing icon (which he assumed was his destination) on the 1st of them. when he looked up, they were at a stairwell, which they all promptly walked up. he turned to schlatt, who began telling him that, yeah virgo, that blue icon is your room. what floor are you on? so wilbur told him that oh, alright, i’m on the first floor on the top deck. what about you? and so they talked, asking around the group on what floor they were. about halfway up the stairwell they realised that they were all on the top deck, and so they were left wondering: were they roommates? surely there wasn’t a room for everyone, right? they’d have to be sharing. they realised though that only some of them were on the first floor, others on the second. they compared maps, though, and none of them were actually together.
shame.
when they reached the deck, he spent a minute just taking it in. there were glass railing all around the edge to prevent someone from toppling overboard, built with a white railing over top so people could actually see it. the deck itself was a light oak wood, glossy and smooth even underfoot. the top deck was really only on covering the back third of the boat, the rest of it being covered by another room at the ship’s bow, a greenhouse-like building just slapped on top of it. the only rooms were centred, obviously, walkways available all around the boat. it was... beautiful. serene, even? they had a wonderful view of the school and the mini forest that sloped down the almost mountainous hill it resided on. walking down to the docks, he had hardly even noticed they were descending.

following his map (they thankfully appeared as red dots themselves), and managed to find his room as they hit roughly the 20 minute mark of the 2 hours they’d been given. it was near the rear end of the boat, overlooking the sea behind him. he wasn’t sure if he liked that fact or if he didn’t, but he managed to navigate his way through the different documents on his monitor watch and found his keycard, scanning it on the detector by the side of the door. it beeped, then flashed a green light, and the door was then unlocked for him to open. so, he did. when he stepped foot in the room, a few things jumped out to him. the walls were white and the floor was more of an acacia orange, with two twin-sized beds in opposite far-side corners of the room. the walls were a toned down white, a greyish cream hue, with shelves along the walls in a modernistic look. there were already small potted plants and organisers on the shelves, though the organiser were empty and ready to be filled. the beds had plain red sheets and there was a desk next to each bed, alongside a bedside table an an openable footstool at the end of each bed. the bed frame itself was sleek and black, with built-in drawers presumably for wardrobe. there was a door directly opposite the one he entered through, and from what he could see from where he stood it was a bathroom. he also noticed that his suitcase was on one of the beds, on the right side of the room. he looked over to the other one, to realise that his roommate (he assumed) was already there, looking at him.
it was the kid with the pink braid.
he gave a weak smile, walking to the bed that was decidedly his, and taking his backpack off after placing his guitar down. he was uncomfortably aware of the other’s eyes following him, a constant feeling against the back of his head, unsettling. it made his head start to pound, a headache growing through the fear in his gut. he swallowed, forcing his features to lay in a neutral display, not wanting to come off as pushy or scared. he turned, again with a small smile. he looked at the other, and they locked eyes. unlike everyone else, he couldn’t not get a grasp as to how the other was feeling: a blank slate. like there was nothing. why couldn’t he read him? being able to tell how others felt was usually his greatest strength, better than his musical skill, what was it about this person that just... stopped it?
“i-, uh, hey. i’m uh, wilbur.”
dammit, why was he so awkward around new people? he could have sworn he was better than this-
‘i wasn’t paying attention for one fucking second, what the fuck-‘
he looked up, only to see the pink-haired boy walking over to him, a confidence he couldn’t find to muster within himself powering his steps. he stood infront of him, feeling small despite the measurable lesser height difference between them. his face was still a mystery to him, rosy features blank as he looked down. whatever he was feeling, wilbur just felt judged. then, in a deep, rumble voice that almost shocked him with how low and gravely it sounded, the pink-haired boy spoke.
“technoblade. call me techno.”

Chapter Text

he swallowed, taking a small step back, not really enjoying this... stranger? roommate? classmate? he didn’t know what the fuck to call half the people around him, had he earned the right to call them friends yet? he’d never really had many before, so...
“i-uh, cool. um, cool.”
he turned, not wanting to stare into the blank slate that was techno’s face. it weirded him out, made his stomach squirm unhappily. it was unnatural. he heard the other go back to his things, seeing him unpack from the corner of his eye. removing his tablet from his bag, his eyebrows formed a displeased look on his face as he studied the map in full. it had zoom-in features, it was labelled, and it was somewhat easy to jump from floor to floor. it looked like a right pain to navigate, though. there were no real ‘exit routes’ highlighted, and the lab they were meant to head to by the end of their time wasn’t either. he’d have to look for it himself. it wasn’t bad, per say, it was just going to be time-consuming, especially for a perfectionist like him who would be dead-set on learning the entire damn thing off by heart before the end of the ‘free time’. as he began to unpack with an absent mind, he finally took the time to really think over what professor watson had told him, and him alone.
what the fuck did it mean? the ‘new norm’? what did he mean by ‘strange’- what was going on? like in general? how did he manage to get here?
the more he thought about it, the more and more wrinkles in this picture-perfect story he started to see, loose threads that didn’t tie anywhere. his head started throbbing, a painful pressure in the back of his skull. the pain was rather sudden, unlike most of his other headaches which were gradual and subtle that sometimes he’d hardly notice them until they were unbearably painful. a buzz from his phone in his pocket scared him out of being stiff, and he turned it on to see a text from dream.
oh.
he had forgotten they had exchanged numbers some point down the line, but he was incapable of pinpointing exactly when through the insistent throbbing of his headache.
‘meet us out on the deck?’
it took a moment or two to read the words, vision fuzzy and unfocused, before replying with as steady a hand he could muster, a simple ‘sure’.

“you should probably stop that. it’s not going to work, you know.”
the voice dragged him somewhat from the depths of his own mind, turning to look at techno. he was sat nonchalantly on his bed, personal items already unpacked and set up on his desk, bedside table and shelves. he couldn’t quite read the title from where he stood, even with his glasses, but he had a rather chunky looking book in his hands. he sat up, resting an elbow on his propped-up knee. he stared at him, trying his damned hardest to read the other’s face but he just couldn’t. it made his head hurt even more.
“christ dude, stop. i told you it wouldn’t work. not on me.”
what the hell, was techno on something? god, he really needed his paracetamol- it was in his bag somewhere, right? letting out a shaky breath, he turned to his desk, where he had left an array of different items, one of which being his little bag of medications. it was things like paracetamol, a few neuyrofen tablets, motion-sickness tablets, nothing too bad. the throbbing was getting worse, but he managed to down the tablet he got out with trembling hands dry, not wanting to risk spilling his water. he breathed heavily, eyes screwed shut and his muscles tense.
after he downed the tablet dry, he stood still, staring out into nothingness, hoping to just will his headache away. he didn’t know hold long he had been staring at the back of his desk for, but it surely couldn’t have been more than a minute or two.
he hadn’t finished unpacking, but he really needed fresh air. anything to get him away from the unnerving presence of techno. god, him just being there twisted his brain backwards, like professor watson had but... worse, but also not. he didn’t have the urge to run, but the urge to bunker down, issue was that no matter how hard he tried, techno remained a blank fucking slate, the inability to gauge his feelings sending his internal voices into chaos and thus making his head pound.
at least, he thought. maybe he just had a migraine, and it was bad timing.

after collecting himself for a minute or so, the headache only slightly lessening, he turned to look at the other, but tried ignoring his face. he was more so staring at the wall next to techno rather than at him directly.
“ ‘m meeting some guys on the deck. uh, bye.”
his voice was weak and strained, and he didn’t leave much time for techno to protest his departure before setting off. the pink-haired boy said nothing, only watching him as he headed for the door, uncomfortably aware of his gaze lingering on him as he left the room. the dorm? was it a dorm? he was going to call it a dorm, his dorm. stepping out of the smaller room, he felt the panic that had worked its way into his gut release, draining steadily as he breathed in the humid, unconditioned florida air. he didn’t mind the light heat this time, more so focused on the relief of his headache beginning to go away. damm, that paracetamol worked fucking wonders.
“wilbur, what the fuck? you said you’d meet us like, 30 minutes ago dude. seriously?”
he jumped slightly when he heard schlatt’s voice, confusion clouding his features. he turned away, trying to keep his thoughts to himself as he replied,
“30- 30 minutes ago?”
how... how had so much time passed?
“yeah dude. what the fuck, you hit your head or something?”
it really felt like it. the sounds of footsteps against wooden plank filled his ears, before he turned to look at the now group of people looking at him. he saw dream, george, sapnap, sam and that one kid- what was it, alex? he preferred something else though, didn’t he? god, what was it? it was-

irritation pricked beneath his skin before he could even realise it was there, turning to look schlatt in the eye. he felt like running, like finding a dark corner and crying. he was scared, trapped, he felt like his emotions weren’t his own, he - he couldn’t control them. was schlatt angry? why was he so annoyed? it- it was just a mistake, surely? he, he could explain- that, his headache had really made him loose track of time, that he-
“wilbur? are you okay?”
the voice was calm, it belonged to someone much less hot-headed than schlatt. he blinked rapidly, only processing how tight his grip was on the safety railing, and how heavily he was leaning against it, muscles tense. dream had spoken, but sam had stepped forward, his partially-covered features providing his mind with some comfort. even from the slim parts he could see, they weren’t mad or angry, there were much calmer, a sheen of concern and worry evident. compared to the blankness of techno’s features and the anger behind schlatt’s, it was a much needed relief that he focused on.
he wasn’t sure if he could handle facing someone yell at him right now, he was on thin fucking ice.
“i-,”
how would he put whatever the fuck that was into words? could he?
“what happened?”
there it was again, the soothing tone. it was cool, like an icepack on a bruise you’d get as a child, calming the heat his mind was in from overworking so much. why was he like this, why did he have to do this every single time? why, why, why, why-
“this is bullshit, sam. wilbur, just man the fuck up and tell me! were you just planning on ditching us?”
schlatt abruptly pushed passed, shoving sam to the side and pacing up to him. he felt his body recoil at the motion, flinching away from the sudden movement and the various cries of outrage from the other gathered people. before they could so much as touch schlatt, he had one of his wrists that’d instinctively reached to shield his face in an iron grasp, eyes locked with his in an unflinching state.
it was calculated, fiery, demanding. something within the brown depths of his eyes called to him, trapping him, pinning him down, his only option was to give in- just give in, make it stop, make it go away, he was trapped, he was cornered, he was stuck-
“well, soot?”
it wasn’t a threat, there was no playful undertone, it was a demand.
“schlatt, stop it you idiot-“
“schlatt, what the fuck dude-“

his throat was dry, but his lips opened, desperate for words to come out, just make him stop, he was cornered, he was trapped and he hated it. he couldn’t get out, he couldn’t escape it- he wasn’t looking away, the darkness in his eyes consuming.

what was he supposed to say? that the mere presence of his roommate sent him into a panic? that his headache had almost floored him out of nowhere? that he was trapped, suffocating, he couldn’t breath, he wasn’t, just schlatt, please, stop, let him go-

the darkness from his piercing gaze started to spread, consuming his vision, enveloping it in shadows. all he could feel was the pounding of his head, the thumping of his heart and the inescapable feeling of being trapped, air unable to escape his chest and ears ringing from the loud noises. it was loud, really, really fucking loud. there was screaming and yelling, tossing and shoving but he heard none of it, crumbling under the weight of his own thoughts and the steel trap of schlatt’s hold. then, the fire was gone. the anger that had held him in place disappeared, and a cold nothingness washed through him. the darkness didn’t leave though, despite how hard he willed it to. in the few seconds he had, the noise level only skyrocketed, increasing the disorientating pain of his headache until he heard a distinct and muted ‘thud’, before everting was silent, and everything slowed down, to the point where he wasn’t even sure if things were moving anymore- of time was moving.
it still hurt.

—🥂—

had he been more observant, maybe he would have read the signs as they presented themselves to him. firstly, the heads-up from phil (‘be careful around him’), then, his sheer obliviousness (the confused look he’d given when he told him to stop), and the most obvious of them all: the yellow fucking backpack.

as soon as he put 2 and 2 together, he got up, an unwanted sinking feeling hardening his gut. swaying only slightly on his feet, trying to block out the voices in his mind that screamed at him, he composed himself before leaving the dorm in his roommate’s footsteps, intent on finding him and making sure he didn’t hurt himself, ‘spilling the beans’, as phil would say, if need be. he didn’t have to go very far, before spotting him pinned up against the safety railing by a boy, all too familiar to him, clearly panicking as those around him tried to get schlatt to back down.
“well, soot?”
“schlatt, stop, you idiot-“
“schlatt, what the fuck dude-“
before he could cut in and demand he back down, however, wilbur started rambling, stopping him in his tracks as he babbled, trying desperately to escape schlatt’s grasp.
“wh- what am i supposed to say? that- the, the mere presence of my roommate sent me into a- a panic? that my, my headache almost floored me out of - out of nowhere? that i- i’m trapped, suffocating, i can’t breath, i-i can’t, schlatt, schlatt please- i wasn’t-, i can’t, schlatt-, just schlatt, please, stop, let me go-“

he had knocked schlatt to the ground before he could even think of stopping himself. in good timing, too, because as soon as schlatt was gone, wilbur dropped to the floor like a shot bird, breathing shallow and minimalistic. he mentally chided himself for being so stupid, shit.
“techno? wha-“
“call phil. right now.”
he growled, cutting off quackity, no doubt attempting to make a joke to try and make light of the situation. dream dropped to the floor at his side, checking his neck quickly for a pulse, attempting to pick him up. sapnap and george practically dragged schlatt away, keeping him on the floor and away from wilbur. had he not known better, he’d have chalked it up to a simple panic attack (not that those were simple, but,), but he did know better. he knew exactly what happened, he had all the pieces, and right now? the final picture wasn’t painting too pretty.
quackity’s call went though, instructions to head to phil’s quarters instead of infirmary given, followed instantly by both him and then by dream, now cradling wilbur, once he saw the look techno gave him. sam stayed behind with sapnap and george to deal with schlatt, and they had quackity stay behind to ‘make sure things didn’t get out of hand’, when, in reality, they just didn’t want anyone else to tag along. it would have been preferable of dream hadn’t come either, but he had to work with what he had, and he’d probably appreciate having the help. he didn’t know how he was going to handle this on his own, in all honesty.

he knew the way to phil’s quarters, this wasn’t his first time on the boat. it was at the very front of the ship, 6th floor. his monitor watch scanned and opened the door, and he was thankful once more that dream didn’t question him, focusing on wilbur more so than what he was doing. they burst through the door, spotting phil instantly, a worried glimmer in his eyes. he directed them to lay wilbur down on the sofa, which dream did carefully, making sure rest his head against the pillow under his head.
“what happened?”
“schlatt,” dream replied in a clipped tone, making phil scowl, turning to him. techno nodded,
“it was schlatt. but he was also freaked out by me in our dorm, he kept on straining himself and he gave himself a migraine from trying.” he explained, talking quickly as techno checked his admin tablet to review wilbur’s vitals.
“then he took paracetamol, dry, left, and i realised he didn’t even know he was fucking doing it”. he finished, traces of guilt and surprise carding through his usually monotonous voice. he could tell phil was worried from how he moved in stiff, jerky, short bursts; grabbing a specialised led kit, sifting though its contents, grabbing a syringe, filling it with the proper ‘sedative’ with outrageously shaky hands, walking back to the couch, then quickly and firmly pressing the needle’s tip into wilbur’s upper arm, and letting the contents drain into wilbur’s body. the limp form seemed to relax, to sag under the relief of whatever drug phil had just pumped into his veins. they all stood up, looking at one another with varying facial expressions.
“okay, not to change the topic but.. techno, why did your card open professor watson’s door?” dream broke the silence, looking back and fourth between the two. they gave eachother some very specific looks, techno locking eyes with phil for a few seconds before nodding.
“dream, techno is my son.”
wow, that was blunt. i mean, there really wasn’t a way around it but, oh boy, that was blunt. dream blinked, looking from phil to him, then back to phil, and him again, before letting out an incredulous huff, stained with disbelief and something that screamed ‘that actually makes much more sense now,’. he caught phil giving him side-eyes, but was distracted again by the voices in his head yelling at him, screaming at his stupidity for letting out the secret, one of his most closely-held secrets- to dream, of all people. dream was notorious for having things go wrong around him, but he himself wasn’t too bad. from what he’d heard, dream was at least somewhat trustworthy. not reliable, but trustworthy. how else would he have befriended literally everyone around him?

he had been pretty content the last year, school at the academy had really been a positive for him. he finally felt in control again, he got along well with people he could tolerate and those he couldn’t knew not to bother him, but they didn’t necessarily dislike eachother. it was peaceful and he already missed it, because wilbur’s arrival had thrown a huge curveball into his plans on having at least a somewhat peaceful school year. being on the valhalla, he knew he wasn’t going to have as calm a year as his first, but it was only day one and wilbur’s mere presence had already thrown all the plans he had off the rails.

phil had told him, in advance of course, that wilbur was coming. he wasn’t sure why phil was so dead-set on it being perfect, but he gave in, letting him set-up his perfect little reunion party. he was exited, of course. he’d grown up with phil knowing he had a brother but he’d never remembered him, they were torn apart when his parents split. knowing that, 16 years later, they could be together again was kind of exhilarating, and it calmed the chattering of the voices in his mind. he expected some rough parts on the road, from what phil had been told, wilbur wasn’t aware of his familial heritage, supposedly growing to resent his birth father for leaving him in the life he did. techno never knew who the source was, but he was inclined to trust them; only because phil did. he had expected a short denial period, then a slow road to bonding. what he hadn’t expected was for wilbur to pull the stunt that he did, and if e was being honest? he wasn’t really sure what he had tried to do, and then he realised that wilbur didn’t know he was doing it- that was more of a shock than it probably should have been. the paracetamol he had taken, whilst good for headaches, would not help in the slightest- he should have stopped him from taking it when he had the chance, he knew from experience how bad suppressants worked, they were very much temporary tape to seal the dam.
checking his time, techno noted mentally that they had just over an hour to sort the whole fiasco out. then they were needed in the chem labs, so they could finally get tested. he knew the plan, phil had told him when he’d asked, obviously, but no-one else knew. he had been tested before, back at the academy, but he’d need to go though again, just to be sure. so, knowing wilbur wouldn’t wake up for a good 10-20 minutes, or so, so he sat down on one of the chairs in his room. phil had headed off to god knows where, claiming he needed to find something before leaving him with dream, who had quite a decent number of questions, of course. before answering anything, he took into consideration that dream was, in fact, still schlatt’s brother at the end of the day. after answering dream’s questions, (‘how do you know wilbur’, ‘did you know that was going to happen, and ‘is he really your dad’) he decided to face dream with his own.
“what did schlatt do?”
dream looked at him, quizzically.
“what do you mean?” his tone was plagued with emotions he couldn’t bring himself to identify, heavy with tone that he didn’t understand.
“schlatt did something to him, what was it?”
he didn’t know if it was his monotone voice, or the deep growl it naturally held, or his reputation for being an uncaring monster, but dream seemed visibly nervous, swallowing and wringing his wrists. at least nervous ticks he could tell.
“uh- it’s kinda, um. his thing.” he replied, which was, honestly, not all that helpful. techno was mindful, however, and just nodded understandingly. he needed details, really.
“do we know what it is?” he pressed, eyeing dream from where he sat, body stiff. the tenseness of his muscles was effect of the voices in his mind hollering at him for being too tame, and he gripped his right hand into a fist in retaliation, knuckles white. it was easier to focus on the clenching on his fist over the voices, it was like a mini, temporary coping mechanism. looking back to dream, he tugged at his brain for any pre-obtained knowledge on the topic, eyes never leaving the boy in the green hoodie.
“uh- it’s, um. luring. we think.”
luring made sense, kind of. it was abnormal for luring to be an easy and unkind process, so wilbur’s distress made sense. he nodded, glancing down to the kid.

a jolt of realisation was sent through him, sitting up from his formerly slouched position. dream followed his gaze, jolting up straight when he saw what he had spotted, too.
wilbur had woken up.

Chapter Text

wilbur hated the dark. that wasn’t something new, it had been a fact for longer than he cared to remember. he hated the dark and, if he was being honest, the dark hated him. probably. if he couldn’t see at least the shadowy outlines of the bedside desk in his room, he’d have a freak out, because his would he know if something- someone was there? unlikely, sure, but that’s how it always went. it was always ‘it probably won’t happen, i’ll be fine!’ then, next thing you know? you’re on some psychotic serial killer’s basement begging for your life.
the world was a cruel and unkind place.
the darkness he was enveloped in was loud and crushing, pounding against the temples of his skull. it was what he imagined being thrown into an icy, raging river was like: cold, dark, like his mind was a victim to a raging storm within his own head. it hurt, he just wanted it to stop.
what had he done to deserve this?
when he had the strength to open his eyes, to let in the light, he drained every ounce of energy he had to sitting up, gritting his teeth to ignore the splitting pain in his head and the spinning of the room, trying to focus his eyes on something other than the black spots that danced across his vision. his head felt too light and too heavy at the same time, sending his over-paced mind into even more turmoil, feeling as though his muscles would completely fail on him, and he’d fall back down, sent writhing through the darkness of his own mind once more. something was pressing against his shoulder, helping him keep upright, giving him time to tune out the spinning of the room; let his pounding headache twinge just a bit little less, stop the spots swimming through his vision.
“wilbur? you with us?”
there was a familiar voice, it sounded soft and felt like a numbing cream against the pain in his head, but it sent a shiver down his spine.
he couldn’t hear or extract any form of emotion from the voice over the sound of ringing in his ears. none.
being emotionless is a lot scarier than you’d expect. sure, people could showcase emotions in different or small ways, but for there to be nothing, absolutely nothing there- like it was just a- an auto-generated response? not even any micro-expressions, no twitches or flinches- it was unnatural and it was horrific.
he looked to the side, brain taking longer than it should have to notice that it was his roommate - technoblade - sat on the chair across from him. again, he couldn’t get a read on him like he would anyone else, but it was obvious from the feel of the room and the look on his face that he was at least mildly distressed- anyone would be able to tell. that didn’t explain, however, the fact that the strange-toned voice came from behind him. he turned, panting lightly as he forgot to breath there for a little bit, to look at the person who had spoken in the strange tone.
it was dream. huh.
“you all here?”
there it was again-! nothing, no concern, no anger, no hate, fear: emptiness. void, absent. it was terrifying. blinking rapidly, he focused on the space behind dream, a table with a hastily opened... what was it, red- red and white box- first-aid kit! that’s what it was. it took a moment, but when he made to reply, he found his throat was dry; touch and coarse as he swallowed, burning sensation lighting up like a wildfire down the back of his throat.
“wh-what...” he tried, wincing at the sound of his own voice. he was still half out of it, body and mind unable to keep up with his out-of-control emotions.
“what happene-d?” he managed to ask, desperately searching dream’s face for any semblance of emotion. normally, he’d be able to read him like a book: like he could most people (all but techno, apparently), but something (probably the headache) was making that job way harder then it should have to be.
“wilbur, there’s a lot we need to talk about. how about we wait a bit, okay? professor watson will be coming back soon, it’s probably best if he’s here.”

dream’s words left a conflicting divide in his mind: they were foreboding, warning of what was probably going to be a lengthy conversation on mental health, medication, blah blah blah. on the other hand, he was starting to pick up on his micro-expressions and tones again, collecting that he was nervous and worried with the words he spoke.
at least that was normal again. kind of, they were distant and fuzzy, not fully there.

before he could protest further, the door beeped and the handle was promptly opened, the professor returning with puffy, niki and bad on his tail.
okay, niki he understood- family, yeah? and he’d gotten pretty close with puffy, so that made sense to- but bad? of all people? they- they were on good terms, yeah, but not like- buddy-buddy with eachother. the professor looked at him, emotions twisted to make his features look concerned and worried. he was looking directly at him.
was this what he had meant earlier? about weird shit being the new ‘norm’?
he didn’t think he liked this.
splitting headaches and passing out being the new norm? no thank you.
“oh, wilbur good- you’re awake. bad, see what you can do, please. mate, look, we have a lot of explaining to do. now, we haven’t lied to you, but we’ve not all been entirely honest with you either. “
and that didn’t bode well with him- not one bit, nope. what the fuck was that supposed to mean? and- why did everyone (bar techno, that kid was a fucking stone wall) look around guiltily? even niki and puffy? what- why was thing happening to him, of all people? had he not been good enough?
bad hurried over and sat on his left, asking gently to be given his hand. he did, ignoring how he held on to it like some sort of fortune teller, trying to ‘read his palm’ or some shit.
avoiding the professor as much as he could (he still had this primitive urge to run whenever they made eye contact,) but not knowing which of the guilt-stricken people he should look at through the receding pounding of his headache.
“someone please just tell me what the fuck happened. what the hell did schlatt do to me?”
point-blank and dull, he saw dream visibly flinch. right- they were brothers. yeah.
“wilbur, do you know why you were accepted into the academy?” professor watson replied with instead, ignoring him completely.
‘and they’re deflecting now. great.’ he thought somewhat bitterly, giving in to the negative feedback loop in his brain. still, he shook his head: no.
“you were accepted, wilbur, not just because you’re smart, but because your special. we all are.”
that didn’t make sense. none of this made sense, what was going on? he was ‘special’? what the fuck was that supposed to mean? that he was dysfunctional? that he was- holy SHIT what the fuck happened to bad?
his train of thought was thrown completely off the rails when his gaze drifted to bad, who was looking straight at him, but also not, because, well, you know, he didn’t have eyes! just fucking, blank, white and goddamn glowing slates. he reached a hand for his head, making him flinch aggressively complied with the fact that he literally looked like he was fucking possessed. as soon as his hand reached his temple, a warm, flowing breeze seemed to cast through his head, taking the pain with it and draining it out his mind. all he could do is gaps in shock and stiffen as bad... healed him. it was almost relaxing, until he really got to processing what the fuck that was, grabbing the hand and pulling it away with force no one was expecting from him. bad blinked, the glow of his eyes dimming, pupils returning, pinpointed on him with a flurry of emotions that he could process once more.
concern, worry. fear?
“what the fuck?”
he turned to look at the people in the room, who looked more scared of him than confused at bad. the realisation clicked in his head, making his arms instinctively curl into his body, brows pinching in a mixture of confusion and hurt.
“you- you knew. schlatt- what he did, was-“
“magic.”
techno’s voice was borderline distraught, he thought, eyes suddenly pricking with overwhelming emotion that he could read. it bore into his soul, and it filled him- as if he was stealing it, hiding it away and feeling it himself. had he not been so... so.. he didn’t even know what he was feeling, but whatever it was was so fucking intense, that it overwhelmed all his other senses, eyes hardening as he turned to look at professor watson, this time not shying from his gaze. he could practically feel him shrinking under his stare.
“so- so what, we’re all fucking superheroes? what the hell did schlatt do to me?”
the unease that rippled through the room was almost crushing, he looked from one person to the other and, my god, they looked like they had been talked into robbing a grandma.
“i think it’d be best if we got to class, we have- twenty something minutes? you can talk it out with your friends, i’ll explain once we get to the cham la-“
“you pull me to the side telling me to expect my life to be flipped up-side down, you stick me in a room with someone who immediately gives me a migraine, you tell me magic is real when someone i met on a plane 3 days ago does- fucking something to my head, your mere presence sets of my fight or flight senses and you’re telling me to wait for fucking class?”
he was quiet after that. the guilt was practically tangible, you could break it like a twig. the raging emotions gave way to anger, trying to suppress the fear growing in his stomach, ignoring it to the best of his capability.
“thought so. what the fuck is going on? for the love of god, don’t skip details. please:”
he wasn’t sure if the desperation wormed its way into his voice, but it was dream who began i hesitantly answer at first, trying to word his knowledge of their... abilities? what the fuck did he even call this? he was still unsure if it was a joke or not, but... bad had done something to him, something inhuman, his eyes had lost all colour and had started glowing. it would explain why schlatt’s look was so... caging, if there was non-human forces at play, and it may also cover the fact that techno was an emotionless slate.
“magic, or gifts, or enhancements- they have many names but.. our, extra talents, they- they’re genetically inherited, of course. enhanced genes can be dormant for generations and only pop up every few hundred years, or they can be consecutive generation after generation. it really depends on the parents,”
he started, gaining more confidence. it was like the familiarity of his speech drew confidence from god knows where, keeping his eyes in him but never directly meeting his gaze.
“they’re uh, not specific. you get what you get, they sorta just... compliment you as a person, i guess. it’s randomised, so you’re not definitely going to get something related to your parents. it’s like, the gene is magic itself, and by the time your in your teens, your talent develops- usually something that gives your lifestyle or personality a little boost.”
he continued. it was hard to wrap his head around- people had... dormant genes made of magic that... developed as you aged? he blinked, intent on listening keenly as dream went on, swallowing thickly. he was uncomfortable, clearly, but wilbur made no mind to change his stance. he needed answers, quite frankly, he’d probably have another breakdown if he didn’t, and he definitely couldn’t handle that right now.
“some people develop their gifts at an earlier age, like sapnap did- he’s been dealing with his... tendencies since he was 11.” it took a moment for him to find an example, but his pyromaniac friend seemed to spring to mind.
“some are entirely mental, like uh- telekinesis. some are more physical, like avian mutations. some are just, like, a random 50/50, it depends on the family and the person.”
wilbur really took a moment to clock that. not only had he been told people could have fucking wings (which was all to fantastical and fucking raw all at once), but some of the smaller obscenities of the people around him he’d subconsciously noted earlier. ranboo’s rather unusual vitiligo, sam’s excessive covering of his skin, how bad’s eyes had literally turned fucking white not 10 minutes ago.
in a twisted, writhing sense- what dream was telling him made sense. it- it fucking explained the weird-ass behaviour of the people he’d met that he’d formerly checked up to ‘haha americans’. he didn’t like that it made... it helped painting the picture, in a way. kind of?
he still hated it. like, a lot.
processing really wasn’t a thing for him right now, how could he? all the info-dumping dream was doing- what would you expect? his life just had the biggest 180 pulled on him, because guess what motherfucker? magics real! and you’re a part of it.
“and... the school,”
“only takes students with extra gifted abilities, yes. it’s like, a side-class for us.”
bad quipped, his unbridled optimism coming from absolutely nowhere, sending his instincts haywire. damm, that kid bounced back fast.
“it’s not all fun and games,” the professor warned, giving the boys sat next to him a look. he didn’t like the look, it felt like something a father would do to their sons when they got in trouble at school. it didn’t sit right in his gut.
“yeah, our gifts have... consequences.”
he turned back to dream, who finally met his eyes. they were hooded with something dark, like a secret he’d been carrying for years, about to come to light.
“what the fuck is that meant to mean?”
his voice was small, almost scratchy. barely more than a whisper.
“they have drawbacks. we don’t, don’t really know what, what they are-“
“you’ve met ranboo?”
professor watson interrupted, fixing him with a heavy look. wilbur drew confidence with the fire that was still burning in his chest, and didn’t back down from the stare. he nodded, quirking an eyebrow. the teacher made a tilting, shrug-like motion with his head,
“well, the drawbacks of... whatever his gift is gives him difficulties remembering things and a rather... extreme dislike of water.” how-how was this casual conversation? well, it wasn’t to him, but everyone didn’t bat an eye at the information- was he seriously the only one who didn’t know? he had been raised his entire life, not knowing of this secret, dormant, ancient gene that could turn his world upside down in a matter of moments.
“we have 10 minutes till class. welp, kids, history lesson is over. meet me in the chem lab, okay? tech can explain what we’re doing if you want.”
and, just like that, the teacher- the adult, the supposed ‘authority’ just up-on fucking dipped, and left.
what.
the.
fuck.

“you heard the man, time for class.”
his pink-haired roommate rose to his feet, but this time he didn’t miss the way his hands trembled slightly, as if they had been strained or clenched for a long period of time. huh.
his body was working on autopilot now, following his friends as they left. wait- they still hadn’t explained what schlatt had done to him, hold up-
“wilbur, oh my god, what happened? are you alright?”
before he could finish his train of thought, niki interrupted him, talking for the first time since she and puffy were brought to the professor’s quarters. he gave a stiff nod, fixing her with a look that screamed ‘how the fuck do you think that’s an appropriate question?’ which was, truthfully, very much well deserved. why was she asking him if all people what had happened? he was the one who needed the 10-minute-crash-course on, literally everything to do with fucking magic, but hey- of course he knew what the fuck schlatt had done to him! niki seemed to catch his drift, and didn’t oersted him with another redundant question. puffy didn’t say a word, she just kept in pace with them. they were all following techno, who somehow knew his way around already (he thought, unless techno was just really good at maps,) the boat so they managed to reach the chem lab on the 3rd floor in time. professor watson was already there, quickly gushing them all and ushering them to their seats. he sat down at a desk, surface cleared of all materials (gas taps still in tact, though, still off however) and looked up, mentally registering (for the first time in a long while that day, it felt.) that niki, puffy, dream and himself all landed at a desk together, him slipped between puffy and dream. the teacher started talking, rambling on about history and self-discovery and family, all of it vaguely familiar.
it really clicked when he started talking about genes and dormancy, recalling that yeah; he’d just had all of this explained to him by dream. go figure. the speech slowly morphed, however, into one of experimentation and searching for the truth, slowing down and pausing occasionally for no reason other than dramatic flares.
he tuned back in, actually listening to what his professor was ranting on about now. it was easier to focus on his words, he didn’t know how to feel- how to come to terms with the absolute shitshow of the past 2 hours. had it really been 2 hours? maybe, he’d had a splitting headache for more than half of it, he probably wasn’t the one to ask.
“so, this year, in addition to the word-wide course and subject matters, the trip will be about exploration and discovery! not just in mother nature, but in the gifts deep within yourselves. you all know, well, at least now you do,” he didn’t miss how his eyes flickered over to him for a brief moment, “that you’re special. this starting course for today is programmed to help us find out what that gift is. of course, a few of you already already know, so you can sit this one out of you want. it’s not gonna be easy.”
there it was- a tone, not the fatherly tone from earlier, but it was another tone that sent overpowering alarm bells off him his skull: it forebode something horrible, grim and dark and inescapable like a reaper. then, within a split second, it was just - gone - and he continued like jack shit just happened.
“you will, one by one, be sent into the CORE, which will set you up against numerous trials and tribulations programmed specifically to test you and your limits, and such push you to discover your gifts.”
ah, yes, entering whatever the ‘core’ was to discover what sort of ancient, magical enhancements he had. lovely first day of school, never in his life could he say that he expected this of all things. never.
“since we don’t have all the time in the world, and just today to get through all 30 of you, we’ve put you in teams of 5. these will also be your teams for the foreseeable future, so buddy up. and before you comment, yes these were specially selected. as your former lecture professor, well, i know its best to keep some of you apart, from a basic safety standpoint.” he spoke with a smirk, eyeing a few of the students he didn’t recognise. it really only just dawned on him that there were 30 kids in his class, trying to commit names to memory as the lists were read out.
“fundy, karl, sapnap, connor and jack you are team vela.”
sapnap made an obviously displeased motion in the form of an eye-roll, drifting to one of the front desks, a few of the people stood there moving away. the professor continued taking over their shuffling, not looking up from his tablet.
“5up, quackity, niki, callahan and george you are team pyxis.”
dream made a slightly displeased noise from beside him, as niki stood and walked away, pointedly ignoring the sad and worried look on her face.
“rae, sam, schlatt, minx and toast you are team cetus.”
as soon as he heard schlatt’s name, he tensed up, not wanting to be put in the same group. he exhaled and let himself relaxed when he didn’t hear his own name get called, the listed people moving to a desk together. when he caught schlatt in the corner of his eye, his features were crossed with so many emotions that he couldn’t pick up on just a single one, and he had the remnants of a bloodied nose and a black eye.
“corpse, sykkuno, puffy, purpled and ranboo you are team hydra.”
puffy exhaled from where she had been sat, again he pointedly ignored the look she threw his way, before she stood up and wandered over to where the rest of her team was gathering.
“bad, hbomb, ant, skeppy and ponk you are team circinus.”
again not recognising at least half the names called, the people listed shuffled their way over to the rest of their team, sitting at a desk grouped together in the back of the classroom. he looked up: one team left. question was, he hadn’t been paying all that much focus on the names to-be-called, more so on the ones being read. he hadn’t really processed that he and people he already knew (including someone he considered a friend and his roommate) would be ending up on his team.
“and last but not least, dream, techno, punz, eret and wilbur you are team orion.”
he cast a somewhat surprised look at dream, but he was busy looking absolutely astonished in techno’s direction, who, when he glanced over at him, shocked wilbur further by mirroring the look (although not as extreme) on his own features. eventually, his team grouped up, consisting of (irritatingly) taller boys than him. the only person who he didn’t get dwarfed by was techno, everyone else might as well have just been on stilts.
punz looked normal enough (compared to the other people he’d seen), with messy blonde hair and a plain white hoodie. eret was an absolute giant of a kid, since they had decided that some 3 inch platform boots would go quite nicely with their green collared shirt and their sunglasses. it was almost comical.
before they could even greet eachother, professor watson started speaking.
“now, you’re all prob’ly wonderin’ what the CORE is. it stands for ‘controlled organic reality environment. take your virtual reality, but better. professor rober and mr. reeves designed and built it, so if you’ve had either or both of them, you should know what to expect.” numerous heads perked at the names of the other teachers, exchanging exited muttering. the people in his group just gave mildly impressed looks, punz (he thought, he didn’t know who was who between him and eret yet, so he just assumed) letting out a low whistle.
“so, if team... pyxis could follow me to start their CORE testing whilst the rest of you stay put, that would be greatly appreciated.”
the students on team pyxis left behind the professor, the rest of them being left in the lab. alone. unsupervised.

glancing from one member of his team to the next, he swallowed thickly, before putting up a face of sugary innocence and sickly sweetness in order to bury his wildly raging panic. he tried drawing confidence from the more heated emotions burning in his core, like the surprising wildfire of rage he got whenever the professor looked at him. the result was a tone that tried to be sweet and calm, but dripped with venom and unbridled rage at the seams.
“so, am i getting an explanation or an introduction first?”

Chapter Text

a gentle chatter soon settled throughout the room, teammates beginning to get associated with one another, sharing stories or just re-warming up to eachother after whatever break they’d been on.
he, on the other hand, was not having as much of a fun time.
he’d learnt that the kid in the white hoodie was punz, and the stupidly tall kid in the platform boots was eret, before having techno launch into a full-scale explanation about what the CORE was.
boiling it down to basics he was more familiar with, yeah: it was like vr but, cooler. much, much cooler and more interactive. he could almost feel the unease radiating from eret but was surprised to see just how laid-back and relaxed punz was about everything, like nothing bothered him. at all. he was calm, but not entirely blank like techno. he had admittedly calmed down from his whole... ordeal... and was beginning to be ran through with scepticism. magic? powers? bullshit, he called it. this was probably just an elaborate prank or cover-up for a friend they had, or just someone they liked more than him. it certainly made more sense and it didn’t make his head pound with the thought of trying to grasp the concept.
it was around 5.30, his ‘teammates’, orion, starting to chat more pleasantly among themselves and crack witty jokes. all the other teams had been called for their CORE testing, not returning afterwards. each session was, roughly, an hour long so their turn to take the test would surely be coming soon. it was just his team left, and he was tempted to laugh with them, the amusement almost contagious, but managed to block of them entirely by focusing on his phone. he grinned, a genuine smile crossing his face as he blocked out all other thoughts than his current ones, blatantly ignoring the festering confusion and fear and pain in the back of his mind.
charlie had texted him!
‘dude, you got a minute?’
sent 20 minutes ago.
dammit, he kept on missing him! just by that much.
‘sorry man, had a bit of an issue. you got time now? i’m free for a while’
sent.
surprisingly enough, it only took a minute or two for charlie to get back to him, time passing quickly from the breath he’d held in his chest from the anticipation.
‘cool dude. i’ll call you’
sent. the message made him frown slightly, before his phone started vibrating and the ‘incoming call from: charlie’ popped up on his screen. he picked up, putting the phone to his ear.
“hey dude, what’s up?” he asked, ignoring how glaringly dry his throat still felt from earlier. charlie’s tone as he replied made his stomach twist, like some deep instinct had just been awoken and made his skin crawl. he sounded absolutely gutted, despaired.
“hey man. look, there’s something i need to tell you.”
there was a hesitance to his words, which made him slightly uncomfortable.
“anything, man. what’s up? is something wrong?”
he couldn’t help but let the doubt settle in his mind, the negativity he’d spent so much of his day trying to suppress quickly re-surfacing at how serious his best friend sounded. whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.
“i- i don’t really know how to put this, but, something happened. we’re moving.”
his mind was working overtime but his thoughts crawled through his mind slower than desirable. he was moving? he- he had already left, why- did it matter?
“what does-“
“im not meant to contact you, so i- i don’t know when we’ll be able to talk again. i’m sorry, man. it’s for our safety, they said- i’m not even meant to be calling you now.”
the interruption cut through his heart like a knife when he processed the words. could this day get any fucking worse?
“w-what? dude, what the fuck happened? you know you can tell me, r-right man? holy shit- what the fuck happened? are you okay?”
he decided to forget about his worries and wallow in his fear and panic for his only friend, unable to stop the muscles in his body from freezing up, focusing his eyes on the desktop.
“i- i dunno, man. i- i’m not supposed to tell anyone. you, you wouldn’t believe me.”
that last bit was a quick add-on, which almost made him huff out loud, thinking in his head ‘you have no idea, dude’ but instead sticking with,
“charlie we’ve been friends for years. you can tell me anything, dude. you know i’m no snitch,”
he wasn’t sure how he was feeling, but it must have been enough to convince charlie to spill whatever the ‘danger’ was, which made his grip on his phone tighten dramatically. his brain was entirely absorbed by the familiar voice on the phone, completely oblivious as to what the people around him were doing.
“i- mom had a run-in with work. they didn’t tell me what, but her job is risky, man, you know that. said she’d slipped up, the government is sending us to fucking canada. for our safety.”
that made his heart sink.
“are- shit, is she okay dude? like was- did she get hurt or-“
“fuck, i have to go wil. i don’t know when i’ll get to speak to you again. if i’ll get to speak to you again. you’re my best friend, man. always will be. i - never forget that, alright? thank you so much. for everything.”
no, no, no. no, no, no, no! not again, not, not - fuck -, not again! he- he couldn’t, he-
“shit, dude. i love you, man. you’re always gonna be my best friend too, okay? don’t you fucking forget it man, i- shit dude- stay safe, you had me? don’t you dare fucking die, alright man? please.”
words were caught in his throat- there was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to talk about, to thank him for, he just wanted to hear his laugh one last time, to look into his eyes and feel the uprising chaos they’d cause, to torment their maths teacher one last time, but-
“i’ll try dude, shit, i gotta go, i love you, wi-“
and the call cut. he barely managed to stifle a sob as he put the phone down, clamping his jaw shut and raising a hand to cup over his mouth. the other lay on the desk, tense and trembling slightly form the force.
shit, what the fuck? first he- he had to leave charlie, now- now, not even one fucking day into his new school, and he didn’t know if he was ever going to even talk to his best friend again? what the shit? this was- it was meant to be a fresh start, why was the past so intent on catching up to him and tangling his day in its grasp? why was he the one to suffer the blunt of all this... all this despair? his life was meant to be looking up- this was supposed to be good, but all it had brought him was heartache and pain. why him? why-
“wilbur? you okay?”
his attention snapped as he let out a shuddering breath, turning to look at dream, who was looking at him with a great deal of concern. the air was heavy with the worry and concern radiating from everyone around him, and the atmosphere was saturated in a stiff and awkward silence.
“i-“
what could he say? was there anything even to say? how?
“who were you on the phone with just then?” he prompted, the shockingly familiar feeling of his hand on his shoulder helping him to anchor his thoughts, the somewhat familiar weight reminding him of the first time they met.
“m-my frie-friend, ch-charlie. from england.” he stammered, turning to aggressively try to wipe tears from his eyes.
dream hummed, gesturing something with his head, but not to him. he assumed it was for the other members of orion, as they all quietly got up and moved to another part of the room to start quietly talking amongst themselves. dream scooted closer to him, arm half-wrapped around his back, hand gently rubbing his spine in a soothing way. he almost hated how well it was working.
“is he alright?”
there it was- the question. was he? wilbur didn’t know, he hadn’t had time to ask-
had everyone heard him? in his panicked haste to talk to charlie, he’d entirely forgotten that his teammates could also hear him, but not the context from charlie’s side.
“i- i don’t know,”
why was he breaking down like this? he’d said goodbye once, surely he could do it again? no, he shouldn’t think like that- he’d always miss charlie, he didn’t know what he’d do without him, charlie had been his lifeline, his only friend, for at least 7 years.
only a few hours earlier, dream had sat down and told him, dead serious, that ‘hey, magic is real!’ with various reasons as to how and why, yet here he was- calming him down (again) to repress his shivers and sobs to more quiet sniffles. was every day going to be like this? emotionally taxing, scary and attempting to break him down?
this was meant to be good.
“hey, wilbur? it’s our turn to go to the CORE, we have to go.”
he looked up, wiping the last of his pitiful tears from his eyes. how the fuck was he meant to do a test like this? he just wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and never leave, preferably hidden under a swath of fluffy blankets. eret had walked over to them, gently coaxing him to his feet with his words. dream walked alongside him as they walked over to the raised flooring where professor watson had talked at them for 30 minutes. there was a door behind his desk, equipped with a keycard scanner (as most, if not all doors had) that was flashing green. it took an embarrassingly long time to realise that his teacher was there, but he didn’t bring his gaze up from the floor, electing to ignore whatever emotions dances across his features.
he led orion through the door, guiding them up a staircase to the 4th floor. it wasn’t something he had noticed before, but when they were navigating their way around the valhalla, there wasn’t actually a door leading to the 4th floor from the platform on the stairs. this staircase was the only way to the fourth floor, unbeknownst to him for the time being, but for good reason.
when they did step through the door, he was stunned at what he saw.
nothing.
it was an empty deck, the floors, wall and ceiling a polished, obsidian black. he noted how the ceiling was lower than it should have been, like there was an extra floor crammed there. it was still a good, at least, 20 feet high.
punz, eret, dream and himself looked around, uncertain, looking at the figure who the professor walked over to.
“kids, i know some of you had him last year, but, this is mr. reeves. he will be the overseer of your session today in the CORE.”
professor watson gestured towards mr. reeves, and wilbur got caught up in just how young he looked. he was short, shorter than him, and had strikingly childish features- glasses, some form of acne, large eyes. he looked incredibly casual compared to professor watson, wearing sweatpants and a plain grey tee. he got caught up in questioning just why he looked so childish to realise that he was talking.
“...-ber that it isn’t real, but it’s designed to make you think it is. we monitor you closely through your watches so if you’re in immediate danger, we can always shut it down. keep in mind it is possible to be injured through the duration of your time in the CORE, now and in the future, but if you handle it right, it shouldn’t be too bad. the scenarios are more single-person than team-built, but you can still assist eachother. good luck, and stay safe.”
he zoned back on for the end of his speech, just as professor watson and mr. reeves began walking away, exiting through a door they could barely see against the black of the walls. face crusted with dried tears, he rubbed at his face a final time before looking at his teammates, unease blatant in their postures (even punz, which he found odd). techno was the only one who seemed unaffected by the speech, apparently having done this before (a brief note he’d managed to pick up from mr. reeves when he was zoned out), standing in a relaxed and unbothered manner (from what he could tell, anyways).
they hadn’t been told exactly what they were being tested for, and through the utter confusion and muddle in his mind from his day so far, he didn’t really have the capacity to connect the dots.
then, he heard the voice of mr. reeves call out from a speaker (which he couldn’t see or locate, mind you), initiating a countdown, voice filled with an excitement that held some malicious undertones that he wasn’t too much of a fan of.
“alright, kids. simulation begins in 5...4...3...2...1!”

all around him- underneath, above, beside, the landscape began to fucking change. it was like a world was being constructed around him, appearing and disappearing, adjusting and tweaking itself as terrain just fucking... spawned.
thoughts began to race through his head, mainly being ‘what the fuck?’, ‘how the fuck?’ and ‘holy shit!’. eret and dream were openly shocked, stunned excitement keen on their features, punz displaying more laid-back signs of shock and techno acting as though this was just some every-day bullshit.
with each passing moment, his exasperation for the pink-haired man grew in increasingly large leaps and bounds.

when the terrain had... loaded? materialised? what the fuck was he supposed to say? when things weren’t continuously appearing, he looked around to take in what he was seeing.
no longer were they stood on the 4th floor deck of the valhalla, but they were in a city. a familiar one, at that.
“does anyone know where we are?”
eyes turning to eret, confusion flushed through him again, piling on with the rest of his shock and, quite honestly, his amazement.
“what the hell are you- you wearing?”
punz and eret looked quite the same, really. it was techno who had him stupefied. techno now donned a cape, one you’d see kings wear in those old-fashioned movies, that reached half way down his legs. he also had a gold, multi-jewel studded crown, and was now equipped with a sword.
a motherfucking sword.
a SWORD.
“oh, for the love of god...” techno grumbled, uncoupling the clips on the cape and letting it fall to the floor.
“they did that to me last time, i’m pretty sure michel just wants to piss me off.” he answered in that same, almost drawling, monotone voice. the irritation was somewhat clear to him, so he decided not to push it.
he’d already seen what happened when he annoyed one of them, he didn’t want to see it again. especially not from the person he’d be forced to share a room with for the foreseeable future.
“micheal-?” he prompted, focusing on something- anything but the warped reality of outside the room- the CORE, and the faux world they were in.
“mr. reeves.” punz chipped in, beginning to waltz down the street, looking for anyone- anything- to give them a clue. he took a moment to let their surroundings sink in, basking in the familiarity of his surroundings, hell, even the air was familiar, a perfect replica of the sensation of inhaling a lungful of the smoggy london air. he looked, before-
that tree.
those trees.
these houses.
they were-
“holy shit,” he breathed, instinctual knowledge of the path filling him, starting his walk at a brisk pace, before eret and punz began shouting after him-
“where are you going?”
“wilbur?”
he pushed down the sharp irritation that cut through his mind, intrusive and foreign to him, before pushing it back down to whatever depths it came from, calling over his shoulder:
“i know this place! it’s- it was my street,” head snapping to search for the house- a house he’d desperately wanted to see again, just one more time, hearing 3 pairs of footsteps fall into place behind him, light pants to catch up with him and his pace. being short, you learn to own a considerable power walk and hold it as a basic walking-pace, apparently. instinct led him, entirely following his gut, excitement bubbling within the depths of his stomach as he became more accustomed to the familiarity of the streets, of home, and at the nearing sight of the house.
before anyone could stop him (even if they’d tried, he’d have thrown them off and went in anyways. this was home!), he took a sharp right into the drive-ways of one of the houses, dropping to his knees at the flowerbed, sifting through the topsoil until- yes! this replica of his home street was scarcity accurate, it even included the house key that was hidden in the flowerbed in case of emergencies. he ignored the thoughts in the back of his mind that simply asked ‘how’. taking the key, he wiped it down slightly before walking to put it in the keyhole, turning it left and hearing the familiar ‘click’ of the lock shifting, the door opening as he pushed it in to step inside. ignoring everything the others murmured or questioned behind him, his body sent him straight upstairs, to the most familiar territory of him all.
he’s not sure, but that primitive gut instinct told him he’d be there, that he’d see him again one last time- but that same gut feeling also told him something was wrong, something that made the smile drip from his face as he reached the door, noticing how the furniture and hallway table-top decor was messily thrown about the corridor, as if someone either left in too much of a rush or was thrown down the hallway, hitting every item on their way.
he hesitated, hand hovering over the knob of the familiar spruce door, worry etching his features. each time his muscles twitched, screaming at him to open the door, that gut feeling would force its way into his consciousness, making him still.
“here,”
a deep voice resonated near his right ear, making him step back slightly to look at the man in heels who came to open the door for him. he glanced aside, shame rushing through him. he’d been so exited, but now he couldn’t even open a fucking door? pathetic.
eret opened the door and slipped in, stopping in the doorway before he could also walk in, fear practically radiating off him in waves.
“eret? what’s up?” dream questioned, pushing past him, again, and opening the door to place a hand on his shoulder, before promptly freezing up himself. something in his brain wasn’t functioning right, it was fuzzy and working on overdrive, the fear he could feel pulsing through his veins sharp and almost painful, his anticipation for whatever horror lay behind the door almost painful in his flesh.
techno was next, drawing himself from behind him and punz to slip past the two teenagers who blocked all view of the door. he also seemed to stutter with his step slightly, before turning to the side and heading to where wilbur knew was the bathroom. then, punz broke his rank and slipped into the room, headed with a soon-stiff body to where he could only assume whatever had frozen all his other friends was. dream turned to look at him, glancing at his hands which were tugging at the sleeves of his sweater nervously.
“this isn’t your house, is it?” he asked in a hushed tone. wilbur shook his head, his mouth moving with no words, until he forced them from the sticky trap of the back of his throat.
“i- no, it- it’s my best friend’s. charlie’s.” stammering over his words, he tried to step forwards, but dream caught him by the shoulder, bending down to talk into his ear, sending shivers down his spine:
“i don’t think you’ll like to see that, wilbur.” his tone was grave and serious, eyes dappled with a sad edge when he looked up. wilbur swallows the bile in his throat down, putting on a brave face:
“it’s not real, it doesn’t mean anything anyways.” before he pushed his way past, ignoring dream’s quick stammering to stop him. stepping into the room, he had to repeat the same thing in his head over and over, clinging to the mantra like a lifeline when his breath hitched at the sight he walked in on.
‘it’s not real. it’s not real. it’s not real. it’s not real. it’s not real. it’s not real. it isn’t real, it’s not-‘
“this ones still alive!”
his head turned sharply, trying to ignore the clotting crimson that stained the beige carpet of charlie’s room, trying even harder to force the image of his mom’s terrified corpse laying with pale white skin on the faux-fur rug. he was trembling, the only thoughts in his mind being ‘blood’ and ‘it isn’t real.’ heading to techno on shaken legs, he opened the bathroom door to see who was ‘alive’, and he couldn’t suppress the shudder and the sharp whimper that left him. when he opened the door, an overwhelming wave of pain washed over him, flooring him almost instantly, cramping up his stomach as his body tensed. it felt like someone had driven a knife into his gut and just fucking twisted, a throbbing in the back of his head becoming evident as he was overwhelmed by the, now heavy, metallic scent of blood.
“what-“ he breathed, collapsing onto the doorframe to hold himself up, eyes welling with tears.
“no- no. it’s not- it’s not real, it’s not real. it isn’t- gah, it’s not real-“ the sound of his mantra against his ears did nothing to sooth his nerves, the sight of his best friend - synthetic and programmed or not -, bleeding out on the floor of his bathroom was not a fun sight to see, coupled with the feeling of someone stabbing him in the gut, yeah. not fun. 0/10 do not recommend. techno just looked at him over his shoulder, brows furrowed, applying pressure to the bloodied stomach of his best friend. no- no, n it his best friend. it wasn’t real, it wasn’t him-
“w-wilbur?”
his head snapped up, locking eyes with the not-real charlie, who looked at him with nothing but pure betrayal in his eyes. his breathing was sporadic, the pain in his stomach making the world spin and ached his ribs whenever he went to inhale a small gulp of air.
“why- how could you?”
what had he done? what did he do? how did he get there? he- he couldn’t focus on anything through the staggering pain, hardly aware of someone helping him slide to the floor, worriedly blabbering away in his ear. charlie’s eyes stayed locked on his, not letting him rest. the pain caged him, crumbled him, it was like he wasn’t able to think of anything else, he-
it was gone.
the pain throbbed away, and he was able to breath again, looking away from charlie with a desperate turn of his head. ‘it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real it’s not real it’s not real it’s not real itsnotrealitsnotrealitsnotrealitsnotrel-
the pounding in the back of his head ebbed, and his vision turned clear again.
“what the hell was that?”
“seconded,”
eret looked down on them, punz peering in from over eret’s shoulder. techno quickly searched charlie (it wasn’t really charlie, though, was it?) for a pulse, drawing his blooded hands away when he found none.
“it’s dead,” he affirmed, as wilbur tried to blink the images out of his mind, not liking the flashes of blood and pain and suffering he felt whenever his eyes shut. focusing on his breathing, sounds started becoming more normalised to him again. the uneasy breathing of everyone around him, dream quietly telling him that it wasn’t real and that ‘do you know what just happened’ and are you okays. there was also the drip-drip-dripping of what turned out to be the faucet, not turned off entirely for whatever reason. his eyes bore into the scene infront of him: techno just staring at the bloodied torso and the drying liquid on his pale hands- turning a foul brownish shade, the blood still gradually pooling on the tile floor, his phone slightly cracked on the floor next to him, unblinking eyes pinpointed on the floor, how pale and stunned everyone looked, how there wasn’t enough room for eret and punz to come in the bathroom all the way, the-
his phone slightly cracked in the floor next to him.
his phone.
wilbur reached for the phone, moving awkwardly as he expected pains from the phantom wound he’d sustained, body trembling still when no pain erupted from his torso. when he got hold of the phone, it turned on, signifying it still had battery remaining. he could feel two pairs of eyes on him, watching him closely, but he wasn’t sure what techno or eret were up to. typing in his password (he knew charlie’s phone password, of course he did, they were best friends for god’s sake-) and being met with, not the homepage, but the messaging app. the gut feeling he’d had pressed against his insides proved right that very second, breath hitching at what was displayed on screen before him. how was that possible? how- how did they manage-
“guys?” eret’s voice wavered, wilbur picking up trace amounts of fear in his tone. his eyes spun around to where techno sat, eyes blankly staring at his pale hands- streaked with blood. his breathing was shallow and he could almost feel the cogs turn in his head, like he was having an internal battle with himself. the sound of his breathing enveloped them in silence, subconsciously aware of how the faucet had seemed to pick up pressure, the noise of the ruching water increasing almost 10fold from its previous dripping.
the pitter-patter of drops became more numerous and sloppy, in a way, and when he turned to see the overflowing water, he almost screamed when he recognised the liquid, not as water, but as blood. ridiculous amounts of blood were pouring through the faucet, joining swiftly with the already large pool of blood on the floor and not stopping. punz stepped past to try and turn the faucet off, only to break it in his attempts. eret stepped inside as well, to help, and the door to the bathroom slammed shut behind them.
shit.
the blood was pooling in the floor - far too quickly to be considered normal (not like blood-spurting faucets were normal) - soaking into his jeans as he knelt in the floor. dream stood up, giving a hand to help him rise as well. he shuffled over to give techno a hand, but he was just staring slightly wide-eyed at the volumes of metallic-scented maroon. in that moment, caught up on phantom cramps and too many emotions to track down in a lifetime, he saw a glimmer. a small gleam, raw emotion dancing through unblinking eyes. for the first time, he managed to get a read on techno’s true feelings, the mask he put up breaking slightly as his feelings shone in his eyes.
it was lust.
for what, he didn’t know: but he could gauge a fairly good guess from the red hue his eyes somehow managed to pick up.
someone behind him tried for the door, but it was no use. for whatever reason, there was now rain thrumming heavily against the glass, lightning blasting from overhead. he gagged, the cacophony of sounds assaulting his senses as he was overwhelmed by the thick coppery scent.
“what the hell is this?” punz snapped, looking down at his hoodie, now splattered with large red stains. his own sweater wasn’t doing much better, dream and eret’s green tops going a mucky brown shade where stained. air was getting hard to breath, the sickening taste of death in the back of his throat making him want to wretch, and get rid of the small lunch he’d eaten earlier.
“open the window or something, we need to go!” dream snapped, directing eret and punz to turn and try the glass of the window. he knew from memory though, that the window didn’t open nearly wide enough to let a person slip out, but, through some higher power, punz’s loud pounding paid off. the glass cracked slightly, but when he went to give it a final swing of his fists, throwing his full body weight at the window, he just- went through.
he had expected the glass to have been broken when he slipped through, but no- the window was there, still in tact, but punz was not. a sharp cry filled the air, muffled by the window and the pounding rain, though still fairly clear. barely managing to suppress a shriek, he waded over to the window, the blood pooling just above his ankles now, weighing his feet down.
this was hell, if he ever knew.
“techno- techno!”
turning from his temporary pounding at the glass with eret (small cracks appearing, nothing too game-changing) to look at dream, hands coated with the pooling red, smudged streaks down his face. the pinkette he was talking too was now staring at him, though his eyes lacked their normal blue hue.
they were bloodshot and red, his irises matching the blood in colour yet lighter in shade.
“what the fuck?” the words left his throat before he could stop them, the eyes of the two kneeling persons not breaking eye contact. techno was littering something, over and over and over- getting louder until he could hear-
“- blood for the blood god. blood for the blood god. blood for the-“
he was stuck in his best friend’s bathroom, his best friend dead on the floor, about to be drowned in blood with people he’d just met, one of whom just saying ‘fuck you’ to physics and jumping through a wall leaving both the wall and himself unharmed, the person who was meant to be his roommate chanting ritualistically about sacrifice.
and hey, magic is real and it’s only day 1.
none of this was real, anyways!
how was he supposed to organise his thoughts? it would take time, which he, considering that techno looked like he was about to fucking pounce, currently did not have.
blood was still rushing, constantly pooling and swirling and choking and suffocating and holy shit was he going to drown?
techno was still crouched, practically swimming in the sludgy, brownish-red substance, staining his attire up to lower torso, the tips of his pink braids submerged in the substance.
“techno, snap out of it! we need to break the window-“
dream hissed, trying to place a hand on his shoulder. in the split second he had his back turned to try pounding on the window again, techno must have risen to his feet, because eret practically dive-bombed him into the tub, landing with an uncomfortably painful thud that made his shoulder blades ache. looking past eret, however, he saw technoblade lunge at the window, pushing dream against the glass in the process (which of the two was the intended target? he couldn’t tell.) with a violent slam, shattering the window and sending them both tumbling through it, right where he had previously been stood.
“holy shit,” eret breathed, rolling off of him and looking over his shoulder at the now shattered window, rain already splattering in the bathroom through the gaping hole, faintly hearing a thud and the sounds of an ensuing battle and the stifled cry of shock from punz as a winded dream and a - what, possessed? - techno landed next to him.
the faucet spewing blood was now tucked away in the back of his mind, beginning to pool and dribble over the side of the previously empty bathtub, rapidly soaking his lower back and elbows, before eret managed to stand up and help him to his feet in the tub, the both of them holding onto eachother for support.
everything was red, smudging the walls as his elbow brushed it in their attempt to stand up. the slick substance was now at least above knee height for him, only a few inches below the windowsill height and tepidly rising to the sink height. he looked to eret, who in turn looked at him, yelling over the cacophony of noises;
“we’re gonna have to jump out!”
“in any other scenario, i’d call you fucking insane!” he found himself yelling back, focusing on the movement of his muscles instead of the extremity of emotions running through his head.
somehow, by the power of whatever deity was out there, they got out of the tub without falling face-first into blood. manoeuvring to the windowsill, face attacked by a myriad of cold rain and harsh wind, they peered down in sync, breath coming up short when he saw techno and dream fighting (what looked like to the death) below, punz sat off to the side.
that’s just what happened when you feel out a second story window- you took a while to get back up. unless your dream or techno, of course. apparently the fall had left them completely unscathed. he shot eret a brief look, asking with his expression ‘what to we do?’
eret seemed to scan the area on the ground, before promptly pointing to a grassy patch of charlie’s backyard. he looked to eret, panic ebbing his mind.
“jump, launch and roll, okay?” he yelled, not giving him a moment to process before placing one hand on the bottom frame of the window and vaulting the hell out the bathroom, landing securely on what appeared to be his upper back, before using his momentum to roll a few times, planting his feet on the floor and skidding in the mud slightly, body still hunched in a crouch.
it took a few moments to process what he had just witnessed, and pondering momentarily how the hell he was meant to replicate it. unsure as to how long he was stood for, a thought from the back of his mind sparked an idea in his mind, when he spotted a chip in the wood of the window frame that had been there since the start.
frantically, he waded through the now waist-high liquid, and opened the sink cabinet, already flooded with crimson as it was. holding his breath, he bent over slightly to reach his hand in, reaching around for another familiar object. nothing, nothing then- ha! found it. he grasped onto it, extending back to his full height once again. in his hand lay a thoroughly blood-soaked, thick-twined rope, with numerous knots beaded throughout its length, a metal hook at one end.
brief memories of times when he’d sneak round the back of charlie’s house and throw rocks at his bedroom window until he’d notice him filled his brain, flowing images of the bathroom window being opened and the rope being tossed down after anchoring in the wood for him to climb up. he let the fond memory slip, however, as his brain cast forward to present times after recalling the bathroom window having the window re-fit to not open fully, though the wooden framing never had been changed. roping himself back into the present, he jammed the slightly blunt metal hook into the wood, before throwing the thick twine down the outside of the house, wasting no time in sitting with his legs dangling down the ledge, twisting his body to properly climb down the rope. he so badly wanted it to feel familiar beneath his fingers, but through the blood that soaked his forearms and the rope itself, coupled with the harsh rain, it was slimy and hard to grasp, so he ended up sliding down the rope most of the way, hardly managing to stop his somewhat rapid descent before he hit the floor.
pushing off the rope with as much grace as he could muster, he turned and ran through the muddied track that eret had taken to get to punz, who was leaning heavily against the wooden fencing of the back garden. the taller was crouched next to punz, a hand lightly tracing the blooded scraped he had on the right side of his face. ‘ouch’, he thought, ‘he must have done one hell of a nose dive.’ he couldn’t tell the severity of the injury through the rain, but he was almost positive he felt the phantom pains of a burning throb on the right side of his jawbone. distracted from the people infront of him, a growl of anger thrummed through his head and snapping his attention to the people fighting very, very brutally infront of him. jogging closer, staying at a decently safe distance still, he watched as techno and dream fought eachother, and his only free thought was that they intended to, not maim, but kill. his brain was otherwise filled with a static hum, emotions racing too and fro that he couldn’t trap, process or identify properly. like jolts of electricity running sharply though his mind and then promptly stopping.
unsure as to what he was seeing anymore, he watched as techno tried to land a blow with his sword, yes- his fucking sword (why had he been given that anyways?), and followed dream’s movements as he continued to dodge the heavy blows last-second continuously, nimble and light on his feet despite the rain that soaked his hoodie. he was subconsciously aware of how uncomfortably wet and stick he was himself, but he was too entranced by the scene infront of him to care. then, just when it looked like techno was going to take dream’s head clean off, he was gone. dream straight-up disappeared, nowhere in his frame of view. the moment of confusion only lasted half a millisecond, because he appeared again- this time behind technoblade. he seemed to shocked to do anything with the brief advantage, but managed to pin techno as he turned to fear for another attack, seemingly unfazed by the magic dream had clearly just pulled.
before much could be done, he was snapped out of his (awe-filled?) trance by a loud, deep rumbling sound that echoed in the concrete below him, making the pavement and subsequent road shake. he turned, only to see the monstrous spray of a large, seemingly black wave of water approaching them rapidly from the other end of the street. techno and dream were also staring, watching as it got closer and louder and the trembling turned in to actual shakes, yet still frozen on his feet, mind too muddled to contemplate or even comprehend escape or running. before any thoughts could catch up with the pace of things, he was hit full-force by the cold water, immediately swept off his feet by t he violent currents. he was thrown around in the water like a stick, the weight of the liquid ice crushing his chest, making him stupidly try to scream out, loosing what little air he’d managed to keep after being winded by the initial force of the contact. he couldn’t see anyone or anything around him, only managing to make out the blurry shape of his arms and hands infront of him when he did try to open his eyes, quickly opting to shut them again, the liquid stinging his eyes when he opened them. his lungs screamed to air, cold and compression attacking him from all sides to the point where he was unsure what was left, right, up or down. the current of the wave flung him around, though he surprisingly didn’t hit anything.
just as he thought his lungs were about to burst, and let his body give out on him due to the lack of oxygen, his back hit something, something solid, before the force of the water dragged him along it for a brief moment, he would have definitely gotten carpet-burn had the surface not been smooth, a perfectly flat texture beneath him. then, he was made aware of the weight of the crushing darkness around him being lifted, as if the water was being drained.
and it was, somehow, leaving him hacking up water on the dark floor of a large, empty room.
a large, vaguely familiar, empty bar the four blurry shaped he briefly spotted, room.
the burn in his throat brought him back to his body, couching retching violently in an attempt to dispel his lungs of the water that had forced its way down his oesophagus. he was cold, and he could feel the thin of his sweater stick uncomfortably to his icy skin, chills erupting all throughout his body. his head was throbbing, the beginnings of a headache taking place, as he finally managed to stop his god-awful hacking, giving his coarse throat a break. through eyes blurred with tears spawned from his coughing fit, he let himself scan the people in the barren room around him- techno: coughing and slightly confused, trembling as he sat up, looking around wildly, sodden hair still, unbelievably, in a braid. dream: sat in what could be a ‘casual’ position, one knee raised with an arm slung haphazardly over it, leaning back on his other arm, looking somewhat out of it, eyes glossy and unfocused, breathing in heavy pants.
eret was hunched over punz still, the two seemingly managed to somehow stick together through whatever the fuck that was, laying almost unmoving on the dark flooring. the tallest of them was trying to touch him, maybe in some feeble attempt to help him hack up the water he’d probably inhaled, but was growing increasingly distressed when his arms simply went through the other, coming into contact with obsidian slate instead of human flesh.
then there was suddenly an outrageous flash of light, making the ringing in his ears amplify by tenfold, his ears reaching up to the sides of his face in a weak attempt to stop it. he clamped his eyes shut, straining to try and stop the pain from the all too bright light making his headache worse. something was suddenly beside him, prying his upper body from its hunched-over position, saying something that he processed as distant muffles. after god knows how long, he pried his eyes open, lowering his hands from his ears when the ringing subsided, looking quickly to the thing- the person who had appeared beside him to help. focusing on the face, he vaguely recognised it as the child-faced teacher they’d been introduced to earlier- what was it, dr- mr. reeves? that seemed right.
mr. reeves helped him to his feet, finally managing to process his words that read more as ‘oh shit i’m in such trouble’ rather than ‘i am an adult and i am concerned for your wellbeing’, though faint traces of concern were apparent. he lead him towards an opening in the darkness of the walls, leading into pristine white of another room. didn’t their CORE testing have an hour? had it- oh god, had it been an hour? he must be really bad with time regulation, since-
“wilbur are you with us?” the voice snapped out of his head, just in time for him to weakly fumble with an item placed in his hands. it looked rather like a necklace, but bore more resemblance to a collar, like the ones you’d put on an animal. it was black and had a metal clip in the back, a white strip around its front. he nodded, eyeing mr. reeves who had handed the item to him once he realised what it was.
“o-kay, he’s back. thank god.” the teacher let out a small cackle, silenced by professor watson who gave him a stern glare.
“micheal,” that was a warning tone if he’d ever heard one.
“anyways, boys. i’d like to apologise to you for that. normally, the starting course isn’t so rough but someone,” he made point to glare at mr. reeves again, “got a little bit carried away with the simulation.” he finished, looking back to them. it took a heartbeat or two to realise that he was sat on a table next to eret and dream, techno and punz separated from them with various staff members hustling around them in a slightly manic and frantic manner.
“any who, seeing how violent that was, and how strong your responses were, i think i owe you all your evaluations now instead of in class tomorrow. i’ll go over your results in brief now, but we’re going over them in more detail tomorrow.” he explained, reaching for a clipboard from an assistant behind him. evaluation? on what? what had they even been tested for?
“i’ll start with techno, since we already have a vauge idea of his gift.”
oh.
oh my god.
was this whole thing- this entire CORE testing- just a ploy to discover their ‘gifts’? their magic?
he’d say it was utter bullshit, but the events of the past day alone violently changed his stance on the matter.
“we know techno doesn’t damage like a normal person and is boosted in combat, but we now know his balance is loosing a sense of control with large volumes of blood.”
their ‘balance’? what the fuck was a balance? really, just someone give him a breather, please, he had no idea what was going on-
“eret, mate, you appear to be a healer of sorts, since you managed to stabilise punz. we’re going to need to check that out some more, which should be exiting.” he went on, eret just nodding like he’d been set a task in class and was not happy nor upset with being given it.
“punz, i don’t think is responsive right now, but he appears to be able to shift through objects and walls which can be a balance in itself. if you didn’t realise, eret, his balance is being unable to stop... what’s the word? phasing, that’s it.”
true to his words, punz made no move to acknowledge he had heard, instead still thrashing and looking like he was just hands-down having a seizure, his body looking like it was flickering on and off.
“dream, ooh boy, really impressive. i’m not entirely sure but it looks like you have some sort of enhanced agility or battle skill and blinking. obviously that’s very high-risk, so we’re gonna have to be careful with that one, m’kay mate? don’t want you getting stuck in a loop,”
out of everything he had said, that was the most unintelligible to him .what was ‘blinking’? what was ‘getting stuck in a loop’? was he just not going to bring up the fact that dream had teleported? no?
“and wil, you appear to be an empath. not ideal for right now since you can’t control it, so that monitor necklace should prevent other emotions from being too intrusive, or others pains since you appear to be capable of feeling those as well. don’t worry, punz and dream are also gettin’ those collar-lookin things, it’s not just you.”
that suddenly made a lot of sense to him, like pieces of a puzzle he couldn’t see just clicked. being called an empath just soothed an itch within his bones that he didn’t know was an itch up until that point.
tracing it back, being an empath really would make a lot of the recent happenings make much more sense.
his overwhelmed sense of emotion as soon as he stepped foot on the boat, the phantom pains in his gut when charlie... the phantom pains that mimicked what he could see on punz earlier, the emotions he’d feel that never seemed to be his.
his teacher clipped the necklace- no, that thing was a collar. he clipped the collar on him before he could even stop him, and suddenly, everything was a lot quieter.
he was left alone, with his thoughts and emotions, no stray feelings or pain anywhere in his mind. his headache had instantly started to wither.
whatever the professor was saying, he didn’t hear, he was too busy basking in the quiet of his own mind. not one influenced by the world around him, but his very own mind.
if having the collar on meant quiet, he thought that maybe yeah, he could make do with it.

Chapter Text

the minutes following their exit of the.. the ‘meltdown’ room is what he’d called it, but it was the room where they’d patched them up after leading them from the CORE. punz had been escorted elsewhere to deal in slightly more depth with his troubles deactivating his gift, so it was just him, dream, eret and techno. techno had spoken quietly with professor watson, but the conversation seemed clipped and agitated in tone so it didn’t last very long. the lady who had been in the room, now escorting them, led them to the top deck, where everyone else was casually hanging around, just chatting. there were tables and chairs littered around the deck, some kids choosing to stand by the railing of the perimeter instead. it took a moment to clock, yet again, but he soon realised that the ship was moving, and had probably been for a while. the land was now a distant smudge on the horizon, water painted with shades of yellow and faint oranges as the sun began to set. the thought of drifting, in what he knew as aimlessly, across the large expanse of cold blue scared him more than he’d ever care to admit, something akin to the deep, wrong feeling that he’d gotten on the flight. he hoped, however, that the feeling would subside with time, like it had on the flight. he was meant to be spending the entire year on this boat, so lord knows he had plenty of time at his disposal.

in no more then 5 minutes of solitude, he had found himself beckoned over to where a mass of people had collected, chatting avidly and loudly about one thing or another. from the gathered teens, he only really recognised a few faces. eret, george and ranboo were there, all more laid-back than the others surrounding them. quackity, who was sat next to- that arson kid, he couldn’t remember his name right then- and k-karl..? that was it, he was sat next to karl as well. he looked positively dreadful, head in his hands with a (presumably) pained look on his face, shoulders hunched. minx was topping out most of the conversation, everyone practically quieting to not aggravate her further, already swearing in violently irish accent. when she paused, an unbelievably deep voice rang throughout the table, cutting off all talk.
“are you done?”
not for long, though.
“holy fuckin’ shit dude, what the actual shit?”
“du-ude!”
“woah,”
“atta boy, corpse.”
a girl with brown-rooted hair, fading into blond half way down her braids giggled, topped by the laughter of a rather small looking boy from next to ranboo, who dwarfed him in height almost embarrassingly.
the kid who had spoken- corpse? let himself chuckle, sending vibrations through the table with how deep his voice was. through all the noise, he heard the now familiar sound of a tea kettle screaming, before almost instantly remembering that it wasn’t a rouge kitchen appliance, but dream.
“o-oh, god, that’s- that’s great. wilbur! hey, c’mon, sit down. you gonna just stand there all night?” he let himself grin, sitting on the bench next to the table before swinging his legs over to rest comfortably under it, facing the person opposite him- george. he had let the moment sweep him up in the brief time the exchange had taken place, before his mind was instantly plunged back into the murky darkness of the unknown, trying to retrace his steps from the CORE testing and process everything that had happened.
first was the perfect replica of his old home. sure, the exterior would have been easy to recreate, technology and the internet and all, but... the interior? the small secrets and things that only he and charlie knew about? sure, the rope he’d maybe chalk up to the testing programme and checking his scavenging... maybe? but there was no excuse, no lie they could force down his throat that could convince him they hadn’t had charlie watched. none. nothing. they-
“hey, how’d your group- orion? how’d you do? that was surprisingly short for a CORE session, compared to the rest of us.” the brunette with braids directed the question at dream, but he must’ve shrugged it off to eret, because he replied, dragging his attention.
“well, it wasn’t plain, that’s for sure.” he scoffed, leaning in almost, as if to tell them a secret,
“we were in this street in london,”
“my old street,” he added in a monotone voice, glaring down as he pulled out his phone. his mind was split between eret’s re-telling of the story, dream cutting in every so often with his perspective of the events, before-
“when we got there, there was... uh, a body.”
that silenced them. all of them.
“i, uh, i don’t do too well with blood, actually. it’s worse with my... gift.” techno added, suddenly standing behind him. he frowned, feeling as though everyone was dancing on eggshells around him. he was stuck halfway between appreciating it and despising it, his irritation showing. usually, he’d probably tremble and shake at the information on the tip of his tongue, but the fact that it was all a simulation and how overwhelming it had all been cut that reaction out.
“it was my best friend’s mom.” he spoke, glancing up from his phone, where he’d been writing up a small diary entry of sorts on his notes app, whilst his diary was still cooped up in his room somewhere. he felt the eyes on him before he so much as returned them, letting his eyes scan the people, in various stages of shock and confusion.
“o-oh my god, why would-“
“then, a dying projection of my best friend was in the bathroom, which i’d love to excuse, but had the messages on his phone not been the exact conversation i had with him just before going in. then, the whole house flooded with blood and we jumped out the window before getting swept away by a flash-tsunami in the middle of london.”
that was a summary and a half, not even including all the little tidbits that-
“don’t forget that punz literally went through the wall instead of out the window, and instead of jumping like i did, techno rugby-tackled dream out the window instead.”
eret’s tone was dryer than his, entirely unimpressed. at least he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t impressed with the first display. he expected there to be more of a noise, something- be it a dismissive noise or an outraged one, he wasn’t expecting silence. he could only feel the weight of the unasked in the air and the feeling of numerous pairs of eyes on him.
“wait, wilbur, what do you mean- uh, about the messages?”
from behind him, for some reason, again, it was techno. people began muttering next to him, as he turned with the most artificial snails he could.
“well, technoblade, when i checked his phone in the CORE, it opened onto his side of this conversation,”
he explained, opening up the messages on his phone.

‘dude, you got a minute?’
sent 5.11
seen, 5.36
‘sorry man, had a bit of an issue. you got time now? i’m free for a while’
‘cool dude. i’ll call you’

techno gave him a look, and had he had the collar off, he still wouldn’t have been able to read it. emotions dances across his face in a more open display than he’d describe as ‘usual’, though something disrupted his read still. like a hazy red cloud of misty confusion always wrapped around him, stopping (was it just him?) him from being able to process what emotion he was expressing.
maybe it would come with time, who knew? certainly not him, that’s for sure. he was completely and utterly clueless.

the spell of unwanted silence was broken when someone else emerged from the stairwell, a staff member trailing next to them.
huh. it was punz.
he looked absolutely done with everyone’s shit, and tired as all hell. the staff member, not someone he recognised, gently tapped on quackity’s shoulder, making him look up from where he held his head in his folded arms with a fierce glare. she just smiled apologetically at him, saying something about ‘being seen now’, before he rolled his eyes and stood up, still scowling, and following her. with little prompting from dream, punz took his place.

“so, punz. you went - through the wall.”
“yeah, yeah i did.”

and, quiet.
he really hated the quiet, more so now than ever. he itched and longed for his guitar so he could play away his worries through a sweet melody, maybe another one of his favourite songs instead of his personal ones. he quite liked experimenting with the genres he played, so maybe he could-

“-ilbur? you there?”
“huh? someone say something?”

he snapped abruptly into the conversation, conscience of all the looks he was getting. instead, he chose to focus on the person who’d said his name - george.

“yeah, someone asked if you figured out what you could do-?”

his tone was curved and irked slightly, as if poised to not offend for whatever reason. he felt the skin at the nape of his neck prickle, but he found himself deciding to not judge it, leaning forward in an almost bored fashion, merely shrugging and turning his phone on to play one of his mind-less, time-wasting games.

“oh, cool, cool. punz, you said uh- eret did something?”
“yeah, my head hurt like hell when i hit the floor, but as soon as he got there it went away.”
a short ripple of murmurs spread throughout the group, curiously theorising on what eret’s gift would be. apparently he wasn’t the only one on the learning curve, but he admittedly had a lot more to go through than anyone else, to his knowledge.

“i mean, quackity fell out a tree, so i guess heights wasn’t just a you thing? was anybody else uh, relatively high up?”

he glanced over to his cousin, having spoken up really for the first time, followed shortly by a kid in a pink hoodie (how were any of these kids not overheating? christ, it was outstanding-) who laughed, speaking with an accent he couldn’t place for the life of him.
“yeah, he almost dragged george out with him.”
the man in the blue tee snorted, clearly unappreciative of being laughed at when told he almost got dragged out a tree. absently playing the game on his phone, he tuned in more to the conversation, picking up on stories of each individual’s testing in the CORE as he went about it.

pyxis had been in a forest, starting in the trees. quackity had been pushed by- well, something, maybe one of his teammates? and had taken a rough fall, injuring his ankle in the process. everyone had gotten down fine, but when a tree headed to fall on the kid in the pink hoodie and his cousin, they’d magically been moved in a flash of pink light, landing in a bush of thorns, to their inconvenience. following a, now pattern, of weird occurrences, as they traveled through the forest, it got dark absurdly quickly. there was a lot - apparently so much to harbour a good 5 minutes of whining - of walking. they walked and they walked and they walked. until they literally couldn’t- because the earth beneath them had, - again, somehow? what the hell was with the programming in the CORE? - liquified beneath their feet. had magic not been at play, both quackity and callahan would have been sent into the depths of whatever the fuck the liquid was, but, according to the story and their recounting of what the teachers had later told them, callahan stopped the descent by turning the sludge into a sheet of dark blue-painted metal. an odd choice, but it saved them none the less.
the conversation went on, and he learnt all about the literal grizzly bear that had come for them, being beaten off by- by fucking niki, of all people, who had enchanted a stick to be unbreakable. he had quite a time processing the fact that niki could just - enchant inanimate objects but, hey, george put the bear to sleep and almost passed out because that was a thing he could apparently do? so, what the hell!

god, he hated magic. why him?

team vela had a story equally as packed, though for various different reasons. when their terrain generated, right off the bat? it was on fire.
on. fire.
not a minute in and one of their members - a ginger he vaguely recognised called fundy, - only just managed to dodge part of the collapsing house by turning into a literal fox to get away. yeah, the ginger could turn into a fox. he was a shapeshifter. and, as he’d find out later, he wasn’t the only one. a kid who wasn’t at their table, jack, had stayed safe by simply hovering above the flames, occasionally complaining about the heat. they supposedly stayed in the burning building for far too long, having to calm down karl enough to get them all out. it took much of sapnap’s energy to muster the willpower to put up with everyone and move the flames away to make their escape as safe as possible, because he was - there was a word for it, wasn’t there? - pyrocleptic? was that it? lots of the powers had names, professional, fancy-pancy names that he just wasn’t bothered to pay attention to. things came to a climax when the crumbling building (which they had struggled for a solid 20 minutes to find an exit from, according to the story) threatened to collapse entirely, almost crushing sapnap and jack, and were it not for this kid called connor - who he, again, had no idea who he was. he wasn’t there, anyways, - quite literally putting out half the building with water (where had it come from? no one bothered with that detail,) after being spooked by a falling beam of wood. karl who, as clueless as them, remained untouched by the flames and the water despite having half an ocean’s worth of water dumped on him.

liam, ant, ponk
circinus was an odd case in the fact that they were all separated at the start. they were all inside the same underground city structure (where did they even come up with the ideas for these simulations?), just in opposing corners. none of them knew how it had been done.
to make a wildly long story short, bad could sense when someone else- skippy or something - was quite literally stabbed. using god-knows-what powers, this kid sam talked about before briefly, ponk (also not there for him to reframe to), just projected his spirit - they called it astral projecting? it was weird, he didn’t like it at all - from his body, and went to find him? it took one of their other members - ant - turning into a literal cat (see? fundy wasn’t the only shapeshifter. apparently.) to find their way through the dark tunnels. with his prior experience with bad, wilbur assumed that he’d just heal that skippy kid with his hands, but he was just... asleep. the whole time. ponk had to carry hbomb’s body, and bad was just asleep next to the kid bleeding out. he really only just clocked that, he got stabbed: that’s why he wasn’t there. it took a horrendously long time to find them, but they eventually found eachother and, the spirit projection of the kid who’d projected his spirit from his body said some shit about how they’d bleed out if nothing was done within a really specific time frame. a really specific, short time frame. he was - somehow? - right, and their session ended and numerous worried staff members came to the aid of the ski- no, it was skeppy! - skeppy kid.

he’d zoned back in, only slightly, when the girl in twin braids - rae, he’d figured out - recounted the tale of cetus’ simulation with vivid enthusiasm. it was intoxicating, almost. she was just a really good people person.
his overview of her as a character was sorely misplaced, apparently, because weren’t the powers supposed to represent the person in a way? knowing that absolutely terrified him, and he’d have to write in his diary not to get on her bad side because my god, her demonstration of whipping a knife out of nowhere? absolutely horrific.
asides from rae appearing to be an enthusiastic psychopath, from what he could tell, he also found out that sam, the kid he remembered with the weird face covering, could touch things and make them explode : case and point? the building that the simulation had made which had ‘been in the way’. rae’s lack of emphasis on that part really didn’t stick well with him. he was also dragged into finding out what the vibrantly-purple haired irish woman he recalled as ‘minx’ being capable of ‘inspiring chaos’ which was, pretty obviously, a talent to twist those around her into utter pandemonium. it fit, he thought, remembering his earlier experiences with her.

he was too lost in his own mind to hear out what the other members of cetus - toast and schlatt - could do, and entirely missed what the people on hydra did despite the one explaining it being the man with the lowest, hell-sent voice you could ever fathom. all he picked up on was the words ‘archaic magic’, ‘plants’, ‘medieval knight’ and ‘vwoop’ which, um, excuse you? what the fuck do any of those words have in correlation with one another?

he didn’t have long to ponder on it, as an instructor - who introduced themselves as ‘mr. eacott’, told them to follow him to the cafeteria, which was on deck 5. they didn’t have to travel long to get there, and he found the room oddly reminiscent of the dining hall at his old school. they had nothing in common - wood floors unlike the tacky rubber/glitter ones from england, well lit white lights unlike the painful yellow of the dining hall from his school. and the food? it was actually good. - considering they were a) on a literal yacht and b) it was school food - it was actually pretty decent. simple lasagna and a small verity of vegetables to choose from - plain enough to placate them all yet not plain enough to bore their stomachs.

once again, he found himself sat with dream. this time, however, they were much less crowded, many people opting to listen to rae and corpse talk on about their stories from the last year. apparently, those two were a trouble-making pair. it was, probably, why they were set on different teams, much like he assumed of sapnap, george and dream. instead of the crowded table, he found himself with dream, niki, puffy and minx. george had settled to say something to dream, but was called away by sapnap who was cackling in an outrageous manner.

“so, wil, how was your first day..?”
his eyes flashed with a sudden anger that, this time, he could feel deep within his soul was his own. and then, just like that, it was gone again. he brought himself back to terms with who he was talking to, and let himself relax. niki was family, after all.
“a lot.”
she hummed, somehow satiated by his vague response. puffy offered him a sympathetic smile, and he couldn’t see what sort of expression dream’s face contorted into, but minx scoffed.
“al’right then, are we fuckin’ done mopin’ about now? can we please talk about somethin’ not boring as dirt?”
he almost, almost being the key word, choked on his water at the blunt tone of her voice. something about her blatant tone, honest words and the horrific accent of her voice blended together and made him laugh way more than he should have, still half-choking on his water and receiving rather concerned yet mildly amused looks from puffy and dream. niki just gave minx a look that said ‘well done, you’ve done it now’ in a good-humoured tone.

“okay, just because i don’ want to talk about feelins’ ‘n shit does not mean i want you dead. calm the fuck down, christ!”

now everyone was cackling viciously.

“god, fine! if you plan on dyin’ do it fuckin’ quietly, please!”

the rest of that meal was spent in quite a hysteria, the light-hearted feelings distracting him from the growing pit of confusion in his stomach. what else wasn’t he being told?

—🥂—

it was maybe 9.45 when he got back to his room, having spent most of the night laughing away with his... new friends? that was all so odd to him. he wasn’t used to talking to more than one person at a time, and not having charlie around? he felt this slight... emptiness. constantly. whenever he was alone, the longing to be with him would fill up his gut, but being around the others seemed to... satiate that feeling. he wasn’t sure if he should feel back about that or not, he wasn’t too sure what he was feeling.

he decided to write it all down in his diary. everything that ha sb happened that day, everything he had learnt. from boarding the valhalla to being -pressured? - by schlatt, to learning his heritage, to charlie, to the CORE, to the others’ stories of the CORE-

he was writing until a good 10.25, when his roommate came back.
“shouldn’t you be sleepin’?”
he craned his neck, offering a weak smile,
“nah, i’m busy writing.”
was that an incredulous look on his face, or was he going mad? either way, he raised a brow and gave him ‘a look’.
“oh really? you not still jetlagged?”
he paused, thinking. in that moment of hesitance, his fatigue must have deemed it a suitable moment to sneak up on him and hit him full-force, making his own drop from his hand, eyes suddenly a chore to keep open.
“thought so. go to bed, dude.”
he closed his diary, making sure to lock it up again (paranoia and all that) before sliding it back in its place on the shelf of his desk, besides a few reading books and trinkets he’d not forgotten to pack. thankfully, he’d changed from his clothes when he’d got to his room, so all he had to do was brush his teeth, already in comfortable pyjamas.

once he got that out of the way, he slipped into bed, murmuring a small ‘g’night’ before promptly falling right asleep.
he was absolutely exhausted, and it was only the first day.
what other surprises would this school entail?

Chapter Text

his dreams that were almost as wild and nightmarish as his time in the CORE, the only factor stopping him from freaking out the entire time was that he was, in fact, a lucid dreamer. occasionally he’d have full control of his dreams, but most of the time he was merely aware that it was all in his head, so the events of his dream weren’t as imposing.

it was a twisted landscape that managed to compile all the elements of the CORE simulations that he’d picked up on, so it was a forest in the middle of an overgrown london, on fire, with bears and blood puddles everywhere.
yeah, like he said, hell.

when he woke up he couldn’t help but breath heavily for a minute or two, regaining his bearings on the world around him. he had just been thrown into a pit of fire, promptly waking up before he hit the ground. it hadn’t been the strangest dream he’d ever had, somehow.
the ones he recalled having as a small child still topped whatever that was, any day.

looking around, he spotted his roommate- who was surprisingly awake and seemingly unaffected by his slightly breathless state. he took another minute to collect himself, before reaching for his phone, checking the time as he leant over to the bedside table. the numbers ‘7.47’ flashed on his phone, and a faint voice said in the back of his head that classes started at 8.45, so he had an hour. after another minute of trying to relax in bed, he pulled off his covers and swung his legs around, sitting there for a second longer before-
“how long have you been up?”
he asked the question before he could regulate the words leaving his mouth, startling not only himself but also his roommate. the pinkette turned to him, glasses halfway down his nose with yet another unreadable expression.
“since 6.”
he hummed in response, wiping the sleep from his eyes and getting up to head to the bathroom to freshen up before getting dressed.
for the day, he decided on a thin, white dress shirt and a thin, sleeveless sweater that was a maroonish red that complemented the dark grey of the beanie he had also thrown on. finishing with tattered jeans, he spent a moment or two fiddling with his hair before sitting at his desk, shooting a quick look at the time - 8.17.

absently aware of techno getting himself ready, he opened his tablet and looked for any notifications he’d need to make himself aware of.
thank god he did, too, because he found his timetable for the week, as well as details for what he should bring to each lesson.
all he concluded was that, for his friday, he needed his tablet, stationary, his bag, and a textbook on shakespeare for his english lesson. once he had that packed, he checked his phone once again to see the time - 8.29. with a small huff, he checked over his time table one last time to see if he could figure out where his first lesson was. it was only 15 minutes, so he assumed it was some sort of registration lesson.

it was somewhere called the ‘greenhouse’, so he assumed it was the building on the top deck. taking longer than he’d have liked to check his map, he concluded that it was the right place, before gathering all his things and starting to make his way there. he was aware of techno practically mirroring his movements, rising only a few moments prior to himself. they walked in relative unison and silence to the top deck, reaching the greenhouse first at 8.40 sharp. not a minute later was eret running to join them, a smile gracing his lips. dream arrived silently after eret, almost unnoticed, punz walking with someone who appeared to be a staff member to their current location. on closer inspection, he realised he recognised the man as mr. ecott who’d escorted them the night prior, a grin he could only describe as a blend of smug and evil on his face.

“alrighty, g’mornin’, orion! you’ve all found yourselves here in good time, just follow me and i’ll run ya through the day and register y’all, alright? don’t touch any of the plants, professor pichu said she’d done somethin to some of ‘em, said they may be deadly.”
he spoke casually as he walked, never meeting their eyes and instead just using his own monitor band to open the greenhouse doors, leading them inside. taking his advice, they all stayed as far away from the overgrown potted plants all the table rows as possible. he lead them to the back of the greenhouse, before taking them up a flight of modern, dark wood stairs that curled in a fashion similar to the stairs of a lighthouse. once up said flight of stairs, tge room gave out to a more circular, dome-roofed section that you wouldn’t be able to see properly from the rest of the deck. the floor was wooden, and the area was obviously pushed farther towards the tip of the deck and not directly on top of the greenhouse itself, as it also had a second floor and a glass roof that they could see from the - classroom? - room they were stood in.
he looked at the frames of exotic plants and butterflies on the walls, making sure he didn’t zone out whilst mr. ecott was talking.

“this is technically the observatory, but, it’s just kinda slapped onto the greenhouse so it is what it is. this is where you’ll take reg everyday, with me! i’m your group professor, instructor for orion, so on any team-based outings you’ll be stuck with me.”
he spoke like delivering a dramatic speech, monologging in a, what he considered, modern aussie, colloquial shakespeareian way. it was entertaining, is what he meant. he quite enjoyed it, actually.

“anyways, i’m s’posed to do this proper, name-calling, register thing but, i’m no moron- i see five people, so, that’s that. now though, importantly. who are you?”
he sat at the chair behind the desk that was obviously the teacher’s, crossing his legs on the desk in a manner he assumed no teacher should. clearly, though, this behaviour was to be expected from him, as none of his teammates bat a single eyelash, and it took him a few moments to clock that the teacher was talking to him.
him directly.
“o-oh? um, i’m wilbur. new student.”
he saw, despite the awkward angle, that the australian let out something akin to a scowl, but with no real anger behind it.
“really mate? philza enrols another bloody british boy?”
he swung his legs down to lean forwards in the chair, casting his eyes across the assembled kids. he was stood awkwardly to the right of his desk, nearer the observatory dome, whereas punz had taken to sitting in one of the student desks’ seats, dream casually leaning against the desk. techno was sat on one of the front desks and eret was looking at something on his tablet, stood next to him.
“c’mon, mr. ecott, at least it’s not another irish kid.”
mr. ecott huffed a laugh, shaking his head with a smile on his face. he could feel it when the teacher’s eyes settled on him, taking in his appearance, his every minute flaw. he’d call it magic, but he knew he was just socially awkward in this type of scenario, and could justifiably chalk it up to his anxiety.
“so, what’s with the collar? last time a saw one of ‘em was when sapnap blew up the chemistry lab last year,”
the aussie’s voice was met with another kettle-like wheeze from dream and a huff from techno, that could have been out of annoyance or amusement- he couldn’t fucking tell. he was also then made uncomfortably aware of the collar, realising just how irritating it way, pressing only slightly against his skin when he swallowed, constricting but not nearly enough to be considered a real nuisance. it was just - there. mr. ecott’s eyes left him as he opened his mouth to explain, but was overturned by the teacher speaking again.
“you too punz, mate, what’s up with that? you got the- the, what ‘cha call ‘em, the, the bracelets and the ankle ministers too. and you as well dream? damn, they gave me the wild lot this year, tsk.”
he closed his mouth, only just remembering that, yes, two of his teammates had a similar necklace-type collar on, and punz did, in fact, have matching ‘bracelets’ and ankle ‘bracelets’ to finish off the set. unlike his, which had gold painted into the seams of the black metal, and unlike the neon green of dream’s, his had a bright white painted within the creases of the metal. the things were bloody colour coded? wow.

“okay, well, so you all know since, i’m pre-tty sure techno is the only one who found out, i can summon lightning. i’m like, a mortal zeus but 50 times cooler and 100 times less adulterous. i already know what you lot can do since i have y’all’s files.”
techno snorted again at the teacher’s words and - he was fairly certain? he still couldn’t tell - it was amused. eret huffed softly, something akin to laughter echoing within its depths.
stupid mythology references he didn’t understand, he’d only had ‘myths and legends’ in years 2, 3, and 4. obviously that wasn’t the right age to talk about the dark and dirty of the tales, so he’d been left in the dark.
dammit.

“welp, it’s 8.55 now, huh. time flies when you’re with the best, eh? anyways, y’all better scatter to your classes now, don’t want to be late now, hmm?”

“we have economic studies, i don’t think we’d mind all that much,”
the quip came from dream, and it made him crack a smile. despite really not knowing what that class entailed.

“oh, i’m sure mr. sparklez would beg to differ.”
eret and punz, who had both also laughed at the quip, had the smiles drop from their faces and an emotion next to fear flickered in their eyes.
he distantly heard mr. ecott yelling ‘on your bike!’ as eret dragged him away in rather a hurry, following after dream who had just fucking bolted, and punz who had scrambled after him. techno was walking ahead at a pace casual for him, which would be similar to speed walking for any other person. he allowed himself to be dragged, since they all seemed to know where they were headed, and since he definitely did not, he was in no position to complain.

they reached the class at a clean 8.59. their economic studies teacher walked up behind them, as if on queue, and he felt like the only one who saw the warm and somewhat fond smile grace his features, before quickly wiping it from his face and doing a half-decent impression of techno: emotionless. it seemed like only half the class was there, which would make sense since no one really knew where any of the classes were. he was surprised anyone in orion knew where they were going, but he chalked it up to just... them.

within the next five minutes, however, all 30 students, on one way or another, managed to show up.
almost?
pyxis showed up down a member, and minx came in trying to blow anyone’s eardrums with t volume of her voice. he realised then, that mr. sparklez really was a force to fear. he silenced minx with a few quiet words and a look he didn’t get a full read on by tilting his shaded glasses down. the pyxis members, who’d arrived late, explained that they were waiting for someone, who never actually showed. they also got a tad bit lost. mr. sparklez nodded in understanding once checking their team records, before going on to start teaching his actual class. after watching minx get silenced so promptly, no one dare spoke out of turn. himself included.

mr. sparklez spent a long while listing the topics they’d cover, how classes would work, and what he expected of them, before beginning to delve into the basics of their class. some kids seemed unimpressed, others genuinely curios and some, like him, absolutely clueless and talk notes to search up definitions and refine later. he’d always been a busybody, he really needed organises and cataloged notes to keep his mind satiated. it had always just been one of his things, and it always helped when it came time for exams or tests, he’d always been more than happy to share and study with charlie.

he tried his hardest not to think about charlie, in his dream, in his spare moments, and in class when his mind would occasionally wander.
economic studies passed without too much confusion, and he packed his bags when instructed to before leaving with the rest of his classmates. they were allowed a few minutes moving time, since geography was, according to dream, on the top above-deck floor, aka the opposite end of the ship. they were on below-deck floor 1.
needless to say, they all arrived to geography slightly breathless.

geography was taught in quite a similar fashion, a rundown of how class would work and what was expected, as well as a quick look at the curriculum. geography had always been a favourite subject of his, and he found he quite liked his teacher, mr. septiceye, his tone always understanding and quite pleasant, a similar accent to minx’s but not as... aggressive. or vulgar. it also seemed that he quite liked him, too, which was great. classes were always much easier if your professor wasn’t out for your blood. english was not quite the same, however, despite the class having to make a mad dash, once again, to the second floor for their class. he found it awkward more so than fear-inducing or relaxed, since professor watson was their designated english teacher. the lesson was considerably less productive, since students kept on bothering him with questions unrelated to english entirely, more curious about their CORE results, questions of the type constantly and politely put down. they barely had time to go over their brief synopsis of the coursework, before time was up and they had to get to the greenhouse, traversing the stairs again, for their study period- a mere half hour to organise their work and start any homework. since it was the first lessons, he didn’t have any real ‘homework’, more so just prep work for their next lessons. so, he spent his time organising his things and cleaning up his notes, making sure they were all categorised correctly and contained sufficient detail with room for additional material.

the half hour was over in a flash, and mr. ecott explained that they basically had the next hour free, and had to eat some time before or at 1.15 so they wouldn’t be late for their next class. he was still quite unsure what to do with himself- last time dream had dragged him into a conversation. the day had gone by so quickly, leaving not much time for his own thoughts or planning. he was grateful for it, though, since he had managed a great deal of thinking yesterday.

“hey, wilbur, d’you wanna come with us to talk to sapnap and george by the pool?”

his head turned, and before he could stop himself, he let the words loose on his tongue-

“sure, but, when the hell did you have time to plan that?”

eret scoffed before grinning, waving his phone around with an air that presented an ‘isn’t it obvious?’ vibe. he couldn’t help but grin.
“touché.”

—🥂—

lunch was, in all honesty? absolutely wild. like, holy shit why- why weren’t they supervised? in england, they’d have a staff member in duty 24/7, but here? with 30 wild, confused and unhinged teenagers with magic? nothing! it was... it was absurd. and absurdly funny, like holy shit.

to start off his break, they met up with sapnap and george. ‘they’ benign techno, eret, himself and dream. punz was off doing god knows what, he looked like he was on the phone, though? the second they met up chaos ensued, george and sapnap trying to tackle dream with scary enthusiasm, him laughing the whole was as he just jumped and slid either over or under all the tables, to which sapnap profusely yelled ‘showoff!’. him and eret just watched with bemused expressions, before the entirety of team hydra approached them to watch as well. he learnt, right then and there, that this was entirely normal. most lunch breaks the previous year had been spent talking, watching dream get chased by various people, or watching dream and techno have a sword fight.
lunch breaks at school were spent watching technoblade and dream. having a sword fight. at school. a sword fight.
then there were the times staff would get involved, and puffy laughed as she told him about the time professor watson walked in on a said sword fight, and just - watched. there were also the various instances when, for whatever reason, their economics teacher and this art teacher who wasn’t part of the valhalla staff had joined in on chasing dream down. and lost.
the staff lost.

he listened as various members of team hydra told him tall tales of the adventures they got on last year, ranging from ‘fairly mild’ from a timid kid called sykkuno, who had gotten stuck in the botany lab over night on one occasion and had to play a long game of ‘circle the table and don’t get seen’ with the staff member who came to tend to various applications.
he hadn’t been caught.
then there was the likes of purpled and ranboo, who had supposedly woken up one day and chosen anarchy and violence. through some power of god, the two had been in all their classes last year, and were notorious for getting into the roof? there wasn’t even a ladder. they spoke of a time when they snuck into various teacher’s sleeping quarters and turned off their alarms. how had they gotten in? no clue. but, a good third of the staff didn’t show up to classes for the first half of the day, and the second half was spent trying to calm down a school full of rowdy teenagers and figure out ‘who done it’.
puffy re-told him the story of how niki had managed to absolutely decimate her monitor watch and, my god, never before had he imagined his cousin being such a devious little trickster. it boiled down to his cousin tricking various people into trying to get it off, ending when dream and sapnap had their go. niki fractured her wrist that day.
by the time the kid with the ultra-sonic voice got around to telling a tale of his own, they were in the cafeteria getting their lunch. this meal there was another rather plain dish of pasta with carbonara sauce, but it was edible and by no means bad. he quite liked it, actually.
he listened and laughed as the kid- corpse, he’d learned- told them about the time he and the girl he recalled being reasonably scared of, rae, tricked their roommates from the time, sam and puffy respectively, into helping them reign absolute anarchy by - with some power of god, he didn’t know, - managed to dye the hairs of half the school an obnoxious green using a chemical agent he did not want to find out about in the water tanks for the showers. sam, the chemistry god, apparently, concocted it. puffy distracted the local member of staff with random conversation (‘centaurs have four legs plus two arms, making that 6 limbs. are they insects?’ if he was listening correctly). corpse broke into the room where all the buildings heating, air conditioning and water tanks were kept (they’d called it the ‘boiler room’ for simplicity’s sake) and went with rae as she dumped the numerous litres of the chemical agent into the water. it was transparent, so no one figured out until it was too late and half the school had green hair.

safe to say? literally everyone in his year, bar the few who were generally unproblematic of had managed to not get caught, spent lots of their free-time in detention.
like, an absurd amount.

after listening to many outrageous tales, the time came for their next class. techno, who’d stayed relatively silent, gave him a quick nudge, prompting both him and eret to excuse themselves and head to their classes. they had to travel once more to the greenhouse for their eco.studies, and suffice to say wilbur was relatively surprised that the class fit in the observatory. mr. ecott then talked at them for the short half hour of a lesson they had, explaining how it wasn’t convenient that they were a half hour down on lesson time for the subject, but they could make up for it by working extra hard and not fucking around. his words, not wilbur’s.
he really liked mr. ecott.

after that, they had the pleasure of having professor watson for ‘discovery studies’ again. he always felt awkward whenever in close proximity to the teacher, and he couldn’t place his finger on it- it really bothered him. the class was very realaxed, despite dragging on for two hours. it was practically just a lecture, mixed in with giving out personal details of literally every singe individual. he outlined what they knew about each student and their results from the CORE, clarifying questions and giving them warnings for their safety. he started with cetus, then circinus, vela, pyxis, orion, hydra and cetus. he spent a while waffling on about the dangers and ‘balances’ of gifts, which he was grateful for- don’t get him wrong, he didn’t want anyone to get hurt- but anything and everything magic just made his brain hurt. he also spent a good twenty minutes talking about healthy and unhealthy ‘suppressants’ and why taking the wrong ones had high risks and possibly deadly consequences.

he also spent the last leg of the class talking about using powers on others, why not to do it without consent or dire need, with a wonderful, fresh, example of how badly it could go.
fucking schlatt.
and, of course, his unwilling subject: him.

professor watson’s detailing of the scenario made sense, but hearing about it still made him want to curl up into his own skin, sit his eyes and forget, pretend it was all a bad dream. something about the teacher’s voice made him squirm, pulled at his insides, sent off all types of bells and whistles in his mind. his fists clenched as the muscles in his fingers tightened, turning his knuckles white. he could practically feel the weird look techno was giving him, only giving a rigid nod when dream asked if he was okay from his other side. they both appeared to back down after that, the class ending after the teacher got two students up to demonstrate their control. he selected a kid from team vela, jack, and the kid with the cool voice from team hydra- corpse. they both made a demonstration of their powers, which was impressive to say the least. it took some concentrating, but jack managed to get himself into the air and just... hover there, a foot or two from the ground. corpse, on the other hand, took much more time and much more egging on to conjure his magic, and when he did, he couldn’t help but feel as though he was in some sort of fairy tale. plumes of deep, greyish purple danced between his hands in luminescent swirls of light, pulsing and shifting shape with each twitch of a finger and flick of a hand. it was what professor watson described as ‘archaic magic’, which he went on to talk about for a little while, explaining how numerous people from the class had remnants of archaic magic in their gifts, like bad, rae, techno and minx.

he left the class with his teammates only slightly less confused about the new direction in his life, and ten times more confused as to why he was feeling the way he was- even with his intrusive powers ‘off’. something was up, he could feel the displacement in his gut, but he didn’t know what. and, knowing the absolute anarchy he’d gone through the past day, he wasn’t expecting anyone to help him out.
he’d have to do it on his own, it seemed.