dsmp songshots

family line

𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖗/ 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘:
[child abuse, domestic abuse, violence, ptsd]

𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖎𝖓𝖌:
family line - conan gray
⇆ㅤ ||◁ㅤ❚❚ㅤ▷||ㅤ ↻

♩✧･ﾟ♬✧･ﾟ♪: *✧♩･ﾟ:*

"i don't get this," george admitted, his legs folded over on the bed in the taller brunette's dorm as he watched him unpack the parcel he'd just left to retrieve, "if you're going to wear glasses anyway why would you need contacts?"

wilbur smiled fondly as he rolled his eyes, fingers grazing delicately over the multitude of small boxes, "they're not to help me see, they're cosmetic," he explained, leaning across the room from his desk to drop a pair of the bluer contacts onto his friend's lap for him to see.

george carefully picked up the small plastic box, turning it over a few times before holding it close to his face and squinting to get a better look at the details in the blue. "why would you want to change your eye colour?" george asked, eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at his friend.

wilbur turned around in his desk chair, making eye contact with himself in the mirror that he'd propped up on his desk- it usually sat face down when he didn't have guests over. "no reason," he lied as he turned back to george, the shorter boy looking back with an unconvinced expression.

"wilbur," george started, moving his legs and shuffling to sit on the edge of the bed, the contact box still carefully in his hands, "i can read you like a book."

and it was true, he could. they'd been friends (possibly more, if you dared to read between the lines) for almost three years and george already knew everything about the other.

well, everything wilbur wanted him to know.

"what's that got to do with anything?" wilbur asked, feigned confusion slipping past in an awkward laugh.

"you've been..." george trailed off, eyes searching wilbur's expression like he knew the other was hiding something, and maybe he did, "different."

wilbur cocked his head to the side, worrying his lips between his teeth as he furrowed his eyebrows. "what do you mean 'different'?" he asked, clear offense melting off the words. wilbur was torn between being upset by the stand-offish comment or being worried about acting in a way george didn't like. what if he'd been unintentionally pushing him away?

"it's just," george sighed quietly, and stretched his hand like he was about to place it on wilbur's knee before pulling it back to rest on his own lap. "after christmas break you've been acting-" george cut himself off, guilty as he tried to find a new word to explain wilbur's change.

"different?"

"different."

wilbur looked back over his shoulder at the mirror again, his gaze dropping back down to the contacts before focussing back on the boy on his bed. "i just," he inhaled, "someone just said something when i was back home," the brunette explained, confession heavy on his tongue, "it's just been bothering me."

"what was it?" george questioned, never being one to dance around a subject. wilbur always admired that about george, he was never as good at being straightforward.