Work Text:
Wilbur had always known himself.
Or maybe it was more accurate to say he’d had no reason to question his identity.
He was Wilbur Soot, nothing more, nothing less. Why would he bother looking deeper than that? Maybe if he’d hated being himself, if he couldn’t bear to stand in front of a mirror for more than 10 seconds, if the sound of his own name sent shockwaves through his veins, if he wanted to crawl out of his own skin and start anew... maybe then he’d stop and ask himself who he really was.
Of course life could never be that simple. Something inevitably had to change, to throw Wilbur’s life off course and force him to question his entire reality.
Wilbur and Techno had been invited to some Halloween party and they were in desperate need of costumes — at least according to Tommy. Techno was more than happy to not dress up at all, Wilbur was pretty sure he could just throw a sheet over his head and call it a night. Tommy dragged them both out of the house regardless, claiming he needed to buy a costume for himself, so the twins might as well join him.
They’d ended up in a thrift store, scouring through the racks for inspiration. They’d collected quite the pile, a knitted jumper that looked similar to Freddie Krueger’s, an outrageously 70’s style shirt with bell-bottom pants to match, and a baseball shirt that Techno joked would make for the perfect Tommy costume.
Eventually they’d made their way towards the change rooms, dividing the costumes between them and disappearing into the stalls.
Wilbur had ended up with the jumper. The fit was a little too small and the wool was old and scratchy against his skin. He’d been quick to rip it off, throwing it aside and turning back towards his original clothes.
His eyes caught sight of the summer dress the previous occupant had left hanging over the back of the door. It was quite a simple dress really, white lace with a rather long skirt, one that would typically sit around the ankles, though Wilbur was taller than most people so he suspected it’d hang around his mid-thighs instead.
He wasn’t sure what really came over him. Perhaps it was boredom, or mindless curiosity. Maybe he just thought it would be funny – that was what he told himself at least. He’d step out of the change rooms in this pretty little dress, his brothers would be a tad shocked by the reveal but they’d all laugh at the absurdity of it all and move on with their lives.
Maybe deep down he’d always known who he was.
He hadn’t heard Techno and Tommy leave the change rooms yet so he had plenty of time to fuck around. He grabbed the dress, stepped into the skirt and reached for the back to fiddle with the zip. He wasn’t able to pull it up all the way — he was pretty sure it wouldn’t have fit properly anyway — but this was more than enough.
He turned on his heel, the skirt spinning around his hips as his eyes caught sight of his reflection.
His heart sank inside his chest.
For a split second he’d mistaken that feeling for embarrassment, maybe shame or regret or even disgust. His cheeks were flushing red as he stared back at himself, eyes flickering down towards the hem of the skirt, at the way it clung around his legs.
His fingers began to drift over his figure, along the hips he could almost trick himself into believing he had, along his waist and up towards his too flat chest.
He couldn’t help but suck in a deep breath, forcing his chest to stick out just enough to….
“You good in there Wil?” Tommy called, tapping his knuckles against the door.
Fuck!
“Yeah!” Wilbur shouted back, frantically reaching for the zipper as he desperately tried to strip off this fucking dress before anybody could see him.
“What’s taking so long?” Techno asked.
“Yeah, didn’t you have a fucking jumper?” Tommy scoffed. “You don’t even need a change room for that shit.”
Tommy was right. He could have thrown the jumper over his shirt and never stepped in here to begin with. Why had he come in here again?
What did that matter now? Wilbur had more important things he needed to focus on.
He wrestled his way out of the fabric, finally pulling it over his head and throwing it back over the hook where he’d found it, letting out a sigh of relief.
He was painfully aware of the disappointment stirring inside his gut, a disappointment he tried very hard to ignore.
“Wil?” Tommy knocked again, a little louder this time.
“Yeah, sorry… it didn’t fit,” he said, shaking the thoughts from his mind as he grabbed his shirt from the floor, throwing it on as quickly as he could before opening the door once again.
“Neither does mine!” Tommy exclaimed, gesturing towards the hideous swirling patterns on his button up, the shirt was at least 3 sizes too big for him.
“It also felt like it was made of sandpaper,” Wilbur added, ignoring the way his fingernails began to dig into the palms of his hands. “I didn’t want to wear it.”
“Whatever,” Tommy said, spinning on his heel to show off the rest of his ridiculous outfit. “What do you think?”
“Awful!” Techno scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Exactly what I was aiming for!” Tommy exclaimed, flashing a wide smile.
“Cool, go change so we can leave already!” Techno snapped, gesturing back towards the change rooms.
Tommy rolled his eyes but did as he was asked, leaving the twins alone as he stripped off his disastrous costume.
“You good?” Techno asked the second Tommy snapped the lock shut. He made a point to keep his voice low, to ensure nobody else could hear.
Wilbur nodded his head. He was fine. There was nothing Techno needed to worry about. He’d let himself be curious, tried something new and well… it didn’t mean anything! Nothing was wrong with him!
“You’re lying.”
Wilbur swallowed the lump that sat in the back of his throat, eyes drifting over towards the mirror that stood against the wall. Maybe Techno was right, Wilbur didn’t hate the sight of the person staring back at him, but there was something about the image that looked wrong.
He wished he could say he didn’t understand, but he knew exactly what the problem was. Wilbur was quick to shove that thought aside and bury it deep. It wasn’t something he wanted to consider. Not now! Not ever!
“It’s nothing,” Wilbur said, because saying he was fine would be a lie.
Techno opened his mouth to confront Wilbur once again, to tell him that this too was a lie, that everything Wilbur knew about himself was one giant fucking lie!
Thankfully Tommy shot out of the change rooms, slamming the door against the wall with a thud so loud it killed the growing tension between Wilbur and Techno in an instant.
They brought Tommy his stupid costume for Halloween. Wilbur left that dress behind in the change room and tried his hardest to pretend that thought didn’t hurt.
He’d done well to repress his feelings.
For nearly a week he’d managed to live his life in peace. His mind had drifted towards that horrible thought once or twice, but he’d kept himself in check. He shot that idea down before he could feel that wave of shame and despair wash over him once more.
This peace couldn’t last forever, the tension had to snap eventually, the tsunami of repressed emotions needed to spill.
It was another nondescript kind of day. He hadn’t been doing anything interesting at all, just stumbling into the bathroom so he could clean himself up before he headed to bed.
His eyes caught sight of his own reflection as he stepped into the room. He was quick to avert his gaze – just as he had every day before – staring down towards the tiles instead, but it had been too late this time, he’d seen the stubble growing around his chin and…
He’d never been able to grow a proper beard anyway, the hair on his face was patchy at best and he’d never liked that itchy feeling as the damned thing grew in. It was perfectly normal that Wilbur wanted the scraggly hairs gone. He liked being clean shaven, there was nothing weird about it.
He threw his shampoo aside for now, grabbing the shaving cream from the cabinet instead and dabbed it across his chin. For good measure he added some to his cheeks and along his upper lip as well — the hair barely grew there but he wanted to make sure it was gone.
He made quick work with the razor, he wasn’t sure if it was because he’d done this so many times before or if he was trying to rush through the motions. Either way it only took him a couple minutes to clean up his face.
He wiped the cream from his cheeks with his towel, eyes flickering up towards the mirror once again.
It looked better. It wasn’t right though.
He shook the thoughts from his head, reaching out for the shampoo instead, hesitating the second he caught sight of the dark hairs growing from his arm.
That wasn’t right. Well, it was — it had grown there, it was perfectly natural, but it looked too dark, and thick, and manly.
With a heavy sigh, Wilbur grabbed the shaving cream once more, spreading it across the back of his arm, taking the razor and cutting through the hairs before he could change his mind.
His breath hitched inside his throat as he stared down at the smooth skin.
Was this too obvious? Would somebody notice what he’d done to himself and start asking questions? Did Wilbur really care?
He dipped the razor into the sink, cleaning away the thick hair that clung to the blades before shaving away another strip, slowly revealing more of the smooth skin that lay beneath it all.
Again, when he looked in the mirror it didn’t really look right, he still just looked like Wilbur Soot.
He let out a disappointed sigh, throwing the razor across the counter and turning on the shower instead. He hoped maybe the steaming water cascading down his body would be enough to drown out his thoughts.
It didn’t really, it made them a lot worse actually. What it did do was force Wilbur to squeeze his eyes shut and for a moment he could almost pretend it was real.
A hand traced along his freshly shaven skin. It didn’t look right, but it felt perfect. His lips curled into a small smile as his fingers drifted up his smooth arm, trailing down along his waist, across his stomach — he dared to travel up towards his chest but that felt a little too flat and that was a thought that terrified him more.
Instead he drifted down towards his legs, eyes flickering open once again as he stared down at them.
He could shave them too.
That was taking things too far, that was too obvious, but he was pushing open the shower door regardless, snatching the razor from the counter and slumping down against the floor as he stretched his legs out as best he could in the cramped space.
He nicked himself a few times, wincing in pain as a spot of blood oozed from the tiny cut, but he persisted nonetheless, watching the thick hair fall down the shower drain.
Eventually he heard a knock on the door, followed by Tommy shouting something about wasting all the hot water.
Wilbur was done anyway, he’d been sitting there scouring his bare legs for any stray hairs he’d missed for the past minute or two. He was being pedantic now and — as Tommy very rudely pointed out — he was wasting the hot water.
He shut off the shower and grabbed a towel, stepping out into the steamy bathroom and staring back at his reflection once again.
He still looked like Wilbur Soot — a little bit of hair wasn’t going to change that fact — but he felt lighter now, a little more true to himself.
For now, that was enough.
Wilbur didn’t last a week.
It had been another rash decision. Phil had gone into work and Techno was dropping Tommy off at Tubbo’s place for the night.
Wilbur had the house to himself. He was alone. He could do whatever the hell he wanted with next to no consequences.
He’d initially planned on finishing the essay that was supposed to be due by next Tuesday, that seemed like a reasonable use of his time. Instead he found himself rummaging through the old boxes Phil kept packed away in his wardrobe, the boxes that were filled with his mother’s old clothes.
He eventually settled on a light blue floor length dress, one with puffy sleeves and a ruffled skirt.
He held it up over his chest to make sure it would fit before he tried it on. Wilbur was tall, the skirt didn’t reach the floor like it was supposed to, but unlike his mother he was rather thin. The dress would sit awkwardly around his frame, but at least it would fit him.
Wilbur bundled up the fabric, holding it tightly to his chest as he shoved the box back into the depths of Phil’s wardrobe and hurried back to the safety of his own bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
He may have been home alone, but he couldn’t risk getting caught indulging in this ridiculous fantasy of his. What if somebody came home earlier than he expected them to? What if one of his neighbours caught sight of him through the blinds? Some part of him even worried that the family portraits that hung from the walls could somehow see him, watch him, judge him!
His bedroom was his safe haven, it was the only place he could take this kind of risk.
So, with the blinds drawn, his door firmly latched and that photo of his friends turned around to face the wall, Wilbur stripped off his clothes and slipped into his mother’s dress.
Just as he’d done a week prior, Wilbur turned his gaze towards the full length mirror.
He didn’t know what he’d expected to happen. Maybe he was hoping it would be nothing, that he’d look his reflection in the eye and realise this was all just some stupid misunderstanding. That he’d mistaken his embarrassment for desire, that he’d wasted his time shaving all his fucking hair, that he had known who he was all along.
His eyes pricked with tears as he stared back at himself.
He looked pretty.
She looked pretty.
With a shaking breath Wilbur pulled back the excess fabric that bunched up around his waist so the dress would fit better around his frame. He puffed out his chest and angled his body to give the illusion of a more effeminate figure.
His eyes flickered down towards his legs. As predicted the dress was a little short on him, the skirt hung around the midway point of his calves leaving his bare feet exposed. He didn’t really mind, especially when he pulled the skirt up a little to get a proper look at his smooth legs.
He’d kept them covered all week, hiding his hard work beneath long pants and thick jumpers. Tommy had commented on Wilbur’s choice of outfit a few times, so had Techno but he seemed to notice Wilbur was trying to hide something.
This was actually the first time Wilbur had properly admired the work he’d done with the razor. He sometimes found his fingers drifting along his smooth skin beneath the safety of his duvet cover but that was nothing more than self indulgence. This was reality, this was different.
The first tear managed to roll down his cheek. It was only then that Wilbur actually realised he was crying.
He dropped the skirt, wiping the tears from his eyes and he fell back into the mattress.
Why had he done this? What point did any of this serve? Had he just wanted to make himself miserable? To pretend this was real? That this was a life he could lead?
He should have stuck to the repression. Pushed all these thoughts aside until they were dead and gone, just like he did with everything else! He should have never entertained his curiosity, this was all one massive mistake — a mistake he could never take back.
“Wil?”
Wilbur sucked in a sharp breath at the sound of Techno’s voice. He’d been so preoccupied with his own misery that he hadn’t heard him arrive. Not until it was far too late.
Wilbur was quick to scramble from the bed, leaning back against his bedroom door to ensure Techno didn’t burst in and see him like this.
“Wilbur?”
“I’m fine!” Wilbur called back, his voice cracking a little as he spoke, a sign he was anything but.
“Don’t lie to me Wil.”
Wilbur drew a shaking breath, slowly letting his weight sink towards the floor. Sometimes he hated Techno, the bastard was always able to see right through him.
“Can I come in?” He asked.
The doorknob shifted a little. Techno was just resting his hand atop it. As paranoid as Wilbur was he knew Techno wouldn’t burst into his room — not without explicit permission or reason to believe Wilbur was in imminent danger.
“No.”
Techno pulled his hand away, his feet shuffling against the floorboards as he too sank to the ground and leaned against the door.
They sat in silence for a while. Techno had never been the best with conversation, he was even worse whenever feelings were involved. He was very good at waiting though, letting the tension hang in the air until Wilbur couldn’t bear to hold his emotions back anymore.
Wilbur lasted a lot longer than he expected to — probably because he didn’t actually know what he was supposed to say. These feelings were new and scary and he’d never actually put words to them before.
There were some obvious phrases that crossed his mind. Simple, concise ways to explain the myriad of flurried thoughts inside his head, but those words made his stomach churn and they tasted like bile.
“Is anyone else home?” Wilbur asked, his voice so soft he was surprised Techno could even hear him.
“No..”
Wilbur bit his lip as he rose to his feet once more and grabbed the doorknob, his knuckles glowing white as he braced himself for the stupidest decision of his fucking life.
“Can you promise you won’t laugh..”
He could almost hear Techno frown. “Why the hell would I laugh?”
Wilbur’s eyes flickered over towards the mirror once again. “Just promise?”
“I promise.”
Wilbur did not open the door. He wanted to just rip the bandaid off and get it over with. Unfortunately his hand was not responding, his muscles frozen in place.
It took Techno a moment but the handle eventually twisted in Wilbur’s palm and pushed back against his too stiff muscles.
“Oh…”
Finally Wilbur was moving on his own, arms wrapped tightly around his chest as the entire world collapsed around him. Everything hurt, his eyes stung, his lungs ached, his legs were shaking. He felt himself collapse into the mattress once again. It wasn’t until he felt Techno’s arm wrapping around his shoulder that he realised it was him who’d led him there.
“Deep breaths,” Techno instructed, holding Wilbur’s hand against his own chest as he inhaled.
Despite everything, Wilbur tried his best to follow along. His breaths were a little too shaky and imperfect, but they were calmer now, the spots that were beginning to cloud his vision slowly starting to fade away.
Another tear fell. Wilbur reached up to wipe it away only to realise his cheeks were soaked by this point.
“Is that mum’s dress?” Techno asked.
Wilbur nodded his head slowly.
“It looks good on you.”
Wilbur scoffed. “It doesn’t fit.”
Techno rolled his eyes. “So, it still looks good… can I not compliment you?”
Wilbur sighed, sinking his weight into Techno’s side, letting the silence hang in the air once again.
“What is this exactly?” Techno asked, shifting his weight a little bit. “Not in a weird way… just… I don’t really know what you’re trying to tell me.”
“I don’t know either,” he mumbled, eyes flickering down towards his legs once again. He kicked a foot out, revealing that soft skin as he pointed his toes. “I think I want this.”
“To be a girl?”
There it was. The words Wilbur had been avoiding since the beginning. The truth he hadn’t wanted to face. With four little words Techno had gone and made all of Wilbur’s feelings a reality.
“Wil..”
Techno’s hand was gently tapping against his shoulder, reminding him that he needed to fucking breathe.
Wilbur did, sucking in a deep breath as he buried his face deep into Techno’s chest, fingernails clawing at his shirt as he began to sob.
Techno didn’t say anything. His hand just rested atop Wilbur’s shoulder, rubbing gentle circles into his skin as Wilbur’s tears soaked into his shirt.
It took a while, but eventually Wilbur began to calm down. His breathing settled, his tears dried up, his tight grip around Techno’s shirt loosening ever so slightly.
“What’s wrong?” Techno’s question was blunt as always, although he was lacking that usual monotonous drawl that made him sound like an asshole at times.
It obviously sounded forced and a little disingenuous, but Wilbur knew Techno better than that. He knew his brother was trying very hard to make sure his tone of voice wasn’t being misconstrued in Wilbur’s mind, to make sure Wilbur knew how much he cared.
“I don’t know…” he said, shrinking in on himself ever so slightly. “Everything I guess… I don’t know who I am anymore and I’m scared of what people will think of me and I look stupid in this fucking dress and…”
“To start with… I already told you the dress looks fine,” Techno said, as if that was even remotely important.
Still, it was enough to distract Wilbur from his ramblings.
“Secondly, nothing’s going to change, you’re still yourself no matter what label you use — I mean look at me, I’m fine and I was hysterical for weeks when I told dad I wanted to be a boy.”
“This is different.”
Techno rolled his eyes. “How is this different?”
“I don’t know, it just is!” He hissed, balling his hands into tight fists by his side. “You’ve always known, you figured this all out when you were a kid, but I… I don’t know who I am anymore and I feel like it’s too fucking late!”
Techno just let out a heavy sigh. “You’re the same person you’ve always been, you’re still my dumbass twin who obsesses over bands nobody else knows and writes sad acoustic music in the middle of the night and doesn’t finish their essays until the night it’s due because they’re a fucking idiot.”
Wilbur drew a deep breath. “She”
Techno nodded his head. “Alright — because she’s a fucking idiot.”
Wilbur rolled his — her eyes, glaring up towards Techno. “You’re an asshole.”
“My point still stands.”
She supposed it did. This new identity was certainly a lot to carry — fuck, Wilbur still didn’t really know what it all entailed, she knew how it felt — the heartache, the strange euphoria of hearing Techno call her she, the dwindling hope that maybe this could be an achievable reality, the pain of knowing the journey wouldn’t be that easy. But Techno was right, she was still the same person she’d always been — the changes she would make wouldn’t alter who she was… they’d just reflect how she felt on the inside.
With a deep breath, Wilbur lifted her head. She snaked her arms around her chest, trying her best to hide away from sight. Despite everything, she was still a little embarrassed to be seen like this.
“Can this stay between us for now?” She asked, gaze flickering down towards the floor. “I don’t think I’m ready to tell Phil… or Tommy……. or anyone really.”
Techno held up his pinkie finger. It was a childish promise, but one he’d take to the grave if Wilbur asked him to.
Wilbur wrapped her finger around his, holding it tightly as the weight of the world fell away from her shoulders.
The pain still lingered, but for the first time that week Wilbur felt a little hopeful.
It was a hope she knew would last.