Chapter Text
“So, how are you feeling today, Wilbur?”
Wilbur frowned. How was he feeling? What kind of convoluted question was that? There was no ‘easy’ or ‘simple’ answer for that. He didn’t feel very strongly one way or the other. He was just a bit miffed. It was hot in this damn room, the chair he was sitting in was gross, and the clocks' ceaseless tick-tock, tick-tock was driving him mental. He didn't want to be here.
“Fine.” He said quickly with no fanfare. He dug his nails into the chair and stared at the wall. “I’m fine.”
Puffy just nodded, humming to herself while she wrote something down. Wilbur rolled his eyes, for God's sake, what’s he done wrong now? He eyed the box of fidget toys on the side to his left. He scowled at it.
“You can take something if you’d like.” Puffy gestured to the box with her pen, “It’s all free.”
Wilbur directed his scowl at her, but she wasn’t phased. “I’m not a child.” He spat as if thoroughly offended at the assumption that he'd want to play with some… fidget toys. Truthfully, he didn’t care so much, it was mostly the thought of where they’d been. Who knows where they came from or whose hands have touched them before. Wilbur shuddered at the mere thought and pushed the box as far away from himself as he could.
“Of course not.” She put the clipboard down. “Have you done anything fun this week?”
“Not really.” He thought back on his week. He was living with Phil now, well, really, it was more like he was living in Phil’s attic, and all he did all day was lie in bed. Sometimes he’d write, but he had little to show for it, and sometimes he’d go to his burger van, still illegally parked on the Las Nevadas border, and he’d piss off Quackity. For that, all he had to show was a bruised side. “I… I did a crossword with Phil.” He cringed as soon as the words left his mouth. God, who even was he? He used to fight in wars, he used to do things with his life, and now the most eventful thing he can do is a crossword puzzle.
Puffy nodded, smiling, “And how was that?”
How was that? Boring. A waste of time. Phil really needs to open a dictionary now and again. “It was fine.” Wilbur tugged at his shirt collar and rubbed at his face. “It's hot in here.”
“Yeah, it does get stuffy. Do you want to take your coat off?”
Wilbur frowned and tugged his coat tighter around himself like a security blanket. “If I wanted to take my coat off, I would’ve done so already. I wasn’t waiting for your permission.”
Puffy nodded, “I didn’t mean to imply that, Wilbur. You’re free to do what you like here, get as comfortable as you need. I unfortunately can’t do anything about the temperature right now, but I’ll talk to the building managers about getting air conditioning in here.”
Wilbur hunched his shoulders up and looked away. He was being immature, he knew that. He also couldn’t really bring himself to care. “Okay.”
Puffy put her clipboard down and pulled out some drawers, “Is there anything you want to do today? I have plenty of activities.”
“No.” Wilbur crossed his arms.
“We could take a walk around the building if you’d prefer that?”
“Puffy, I’ve got a bad leg. Do you want me to be in pain?”
“No, of course not, Wilbur–”
“Then don’t fucking ask me if I want to take a walk.”
Puffy sat back down with a sigh. She was getting sick of him, Wilbur could tell. Everyone did eventually. “I don’t know how to help you if you’re not going to participate, Wilbur. Unfortunately, therapy entails talking about how you’re doing and how your life is going. If you don’t do that, Wilbur, then I can't help you.” She took off her glasses and folded them in her lap. “Do you even want therapy?”
Wilbur knew she was right. For some reason, honesty always seemed to cut him where it hurt. But he could be honest too. “No, Puffy! I don’t want therapy, I never did. Ponk mandated it after I tried to fucking drown myself! I don’t want to be stuck in this shitty building! I want to lie in bed all day and sleep the time away!”
She levelled with him, “Doesn’t it get boring?”
And that. That was it. “Yeah.” He choked out, he took a deep breath and leaned back in the chair. He dragged a hand through his hair, lingering on the white streak. “Yeah, it really does.”
“Is there anything you find fun? Any hobbies?” She asked, and Wilbur was silent. “Have you ever had fun?”
“I used… I used to play guitar. I miss it but... My hands.” He gave a short, self-deprecating laugh, “They shake too much now.”
“I’m very sorry, Wilbur. That must be hard, having something you loved doing taken from you like that.”
Wilbur clenched his jaw, he wasn’t going to cry. “You have no idea.”
She put her glasses back on and wrote on the clipboard again. Wilbur couldn’t stand that thing. “Have you got any friends?
“No.” He said quickly and succinctly. There was nothing more to say. “No, I’ve fucked everyone over.”
“What about Tommy?”
Wilbur brought his knees up to his chest. He gnawed on his lower lip and looked very conflicted. “All I do to Tommy is hurt him. He fills his own head up with fantasies of me changing, and his hopes get crushed when he finds out I haven’t left my bed in a week. He’s moving on without me, as he should. I should’ve never been allowed to look after him, I really shouldn't have. I could barely take care of myself, let alone a child.”
“Phil? Techno?”
Wilbur shrugged, “Family. Phil only cares about me because he feels like he should, he’s overbearing, it’s suffocating, and he gets all weird when I’m in bed for too long, it’s some instinctual avian thing, you wouldn’t get it–and Techno only cares about the things that Phil cares about.”
“Niki? Quackity? Jack?”
“I’ve fucked them all over one way or another. They hate my guts, and whenever I’m around Quackity, it either ends in us fighting, drunk or waking up in each other's beds, and I’m not sure any of those things count as ‘friendship’.”
Puffy lowered her clipboard to look Wilbur in the eye. Wilbur looked away, he couldn't stand eye contact. “What about Eret?”
Wilbur leaned forward and spoke in an outwardly hostile tone. “Fuck Eret.”
“I thought you’d say that.” Puffy let out a short laugh. Wilbur didn’t find the humour in it. “Eret has shown great amounts of remorse for what happened, Wilbur. Now, this is just a hypothetical question here. Could you ever see yourself getting along with Eret again?”
Wilbur thought about it, he did. He really did. Quite often, actually. “I’m not sure… It’s stupid. I want people to forgive me for blowing up and betraying L’manburg, but I hate Eret for the same thing.”
“I don’t think it’s stupid, it makes perfect sense. Eret wronged you, it’s natural to feel a grudge, but I don't think you should hold onto it forever. Not if it’s weighing on you.”
Wilbur shrugged. He did miss Eret, he supposes, he misses all of his friends. He misses L’manburg before everything went to shit.
“Wilbur, I think you need a friend. I think Eret would be a good place to start.”
“I hate that idea.”
“I had a feeling you would.” She smiled, “The two of you are quite like-minded, I think, and I think Eret would appreciate the company too.”
“What if…” Wilbur mumbled, “What if we don’t get along?”
“Then you don’t get along, and that’s perfectly fine. There are plenty of potential friends out there, Wilbur. I just figured it would be easier for you if you already knew the person.”
Wilbur nodded. It makes sense, it feels much safer than meeting someone new and having them spit in his face when finding out he took down an entire nation. “Yeah, feels safer. I'll visit them sometime during the week. I’m not thrilled about it, though.”
“You don’t have to be enthusiastic about it, Wilbur. You just need to try.”
“I guess there's no harm in trying.” He said, quoting something Phil’s said to him on numerous occasions.
Puffy’s alarm went off, signalling the end of the session. It felt like it went by a lot faster than usual. He also feels a lot calmer this time. He’ll probably regret spewing so much in the coming days, but for now, all he could feel was okay.
“That’s all I ask for, Wilbur.” Puffy smiled, “Is there anything else you want to talk about? I’ve got a bit of time.”
Wilbur shook his head. Puffy nodded. “Alright, next session, I want to hear all about your meeting with Eret, and I want to see your journal, too. I’m sure you’re an amazing writer.”
Wilbur scratched his jaw shyly. He hadn’t shaved in a while, he should get on that. “Yeah, right… I’ll be sure to bring it next time.”
"Thank you, Wilbur. I'll see you next week."
Wilbur stood up, grabbing his bag and cane. He nodded goodbye to Puffy and left.
God, the cool air was nice.