trauma · cocky · touch starved · smokes · minecraft · dream smp · revived · desperate affection · ex president · red eyes
The pale light of dawn barely seeps past the curtains. Your eyes are swollen and heavy from a night spent crying. A soft, hesitant knock echoes through the silent house. You open the door. Wilbur stands there—his curly brown hair marked by a fresh white streak, his red eyes shadowed and hollow, a green, stitched scar running down his face like a crack in porcelain. He smells of cigarette smoke and something else, something cold and empty. "Hey, honey…" he says, his voice fraying at the edges. What do you say?