Chapter Text
The war brewing wasn’t an unknown issue. Wilbur had seen people whispering about it for weeks, hearing about how the ruler of the land surrounding their country was angry. Upset with how L’Manberg’s ruler had tried to declare their land as free. Dream had been said to be an immoral leader; having destroyed other nations that had tried to rise up in the past. So, no, it wasn’t a surprise when the freshly-turned adults of L’Manberg were drafted into the anticipated war.
What Wilbur hadn’t expected was for them to get their asses handed to them so quickly. Sure, this country was built upon people who just wanted a place to belong, not Demi-gods, but he was sure they would hold their own for at least a couple weeks.
But as Wilbur, just a 17-year-old, stared at his draft card, he knew he wasn’t coming back.
“You have to write, every day, Wil.”
“I will, Dad.” Wilbur rolled his eyes as he slung his duffel onto his back. Phil stood in front of the door, Kristin at his side. He smiled at them, trying to ignore the nagging voice in his head. “To both of you. I promise.”
“You better. Or the war isn’t the only thing you’ll need to worry about.” Kristin left Phil’s side, walking in front of Wilbur. She looked him up and down, before her eyes stalled his eyes. Two sets of amber-colored eyes locked with each other. Even with the playful look on his mother’s face, Wilbur could see the hint of worry lying underneath.
“You don’t need to worry, Mom. I have more than enough paper to write for years, if that’s what I need to do.” Wilbur reached for her hands, pulling them up so they were in between them. “No war is going to stop me.”
“Nothing ever could. I trust you.” She closed the gap, Wilbur leaning down to return the hug. He put his chin on top of her head, breathing in and savoring the smell of her violet shampoo. He tried to relish in the scent, even as he pulled away from the hug.
Kristin ducked her head, moving to the side so Phil could fill her spot. Wilbur smiled at his father, who returned the smile with teary eyes.
“I still remember the days you were eating sand—“
“You eat sand one time! One time! And it becomes your personality forever!”
Phil laughed, shaking his head. “Sorry, mate, but it was funny.”
Wilbur groaned, leaning his head back. He tried to blink away the tears that were forming in his eyes, only bringing his head back when the tears had dissipated. Phil hadn’t bothered to wipe his away, just staring at Wilbur with something akin to hope.
“I’m just… proud. Shocked that you’ve grown up so fast, but proud of the man you’re becoming. I know you’re strong, but I still feel like you’re my kid.”
Wilbur smiled sadly, watching a tear fall down Phil’s cheek. “I’m always your kid, Dad. Nothing will ever change that.”
“You fucker.” Wilbur laughed lightly as Phil pulled him into a hug. He leaned into Phil, having to crouch a little lower than he did for Kristin. He squeezed Phil a little harder, ignoring the tears that had built back up. He didn’t want to cry in front of his parents, but it was inevitable. Just like this war had always been.
A knock on their front door was the only thing that could’ve broken up their hug. Phil pulled back, staring up at Wilbur with more tears on his face than before. Wilbur stared back, a wet smile pulling up the corners of his mouth.
It’ll be okay, he mouths to Phil. I promise.
The door opened, Kristin pulling the handle to reveal a tall man with green hair. His face was stoic, but there was a gentle look in his eyes. He smiled lightly, bowing his head.
“Sorry for interrupting, Watsons, but I have one other person to pick up. We best be going soon.” He turned to leave, heading back to the street, but Kristin held her hand out.
“Before you go, your name?”
The man smiled apologetically. “Ah, of course, sorry about that. General Sam. That’s what I prefer at least, my last name is a whole different ball park.” General Sam laughed lightly. “Two minute warning, Private Soot.” He turned away from the door now, heading back to the vehicle.
The silence as Kristin and Phil turned to look at Wilbur was loud. Wil looked between the both of them, sighing as he saw the tears on their faces. “I’m going to be alright, guys. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Even that’s too far away.” Kristin whispered, stepping closer to him and Phil.
“I love you guys. So much. I’m not going to stop trying to get back home.” They smiled, grabbing each others’ hands.
“We believe you, Wil. Now, go get ‘em, soldier. Before I tie you to this house so you can never leave.” Wilbur laughed, readjusting his duffel on his back. He took a couple steps toward the front door, pausing before stepping out of his house.
He glanced back into it. He could see the kitchen on the left, a fridge covered in his baby drawings splayed all over it. Some photos of some distant relatives, including an uncle with shockingly pink hair, covered the side of the fridge. He could see some dishes he had forgotten to put away earlier. He wouldn’t miss dish duty, at least.
He would, though. He wouldn’t be able to admit that for a long time.
To the right, he could see the well-worn living room of their small house. Their coffee table was covered in cards and games, the distraction they had tried to use before they came to pick Wilbur up. Beyond the coffee table and couches, sitting on a polished stand, was Wilbur’s guitar. The dark walnut wood shone brightly, all of the strings aligned perfectly and Wilbur had made sure it was tuned perfectly after cleaning it.
Wilbur glanced at his parents, giving a light smile. “You’ll make sure my guitar stays clean?”
“Of course, Wil.”
Wilbur sighed, nodding his head gently. “Make sure to not touch the pegs. I don’t want to come home to a faulty guitar.”
His parents nodded, silent as tears fell from their eyes. And when Wilbur felt like he would start crying as well, he turned away. He stepped out of his house, onto the front path. He kept walking, stopping at the fence that separated his yard from the sidewalk.
When he looked back, Phil and Kristin stood at the door. Kristin was leaning against Phil, looking like the only reason she was upright was because of him. Phil just smiled sadly, refusing to look anywhere but Wilbur.
They all knew Wilbur’s chances. The fact that teenagers were being drafted wasn’t a good sign. But if the Watson-Soot family was anything, they were blissfully ignorant. Optimistic wasn’t a good word for it, but if they ignored the reality of the situation, then maybe it would be alright.
Regardless, Wilbur held up his hand, giving one final wave. Phil returned it, holding onto Kristin tightly with his other hand. His smile no longer reached his eyes. They knew, they all did, but Wilbur still smiled as best as he could. And when he turned away, for the final time, he walked confidently. Like he was going to walk back up that path the same way in a few months.
The car ride had been pretty silent, for the most part. General Sam had mentioned they would be picking up another kid who lived a mile or two away, and he had held some light conversation, but otherwise Wilbur was left to stare out his window. He watched the town he had grown up in fade away, the busy streets turning into cornfields. His part of L’Manberg was small, a tiny town where everyone knew everyone. They weren’t secluded from other towns, but they had been surrounded with at least half a mile of cornfields.
With the direction Sam took, the half a mile turned into a mile until another town broke the dull pattern. This town was slightly bigger, more shops and houses lining the streets, but it was the same style as his. Most of the towns were copies of the others. Just cornfields and lakes breaking them into different sections.
They drove into the center of town, pulling in front of one of the houses. Wilbur glanced at it, noting the peeling yellow paint. The stairs leading up to the porch looked five seconds away from collapsing, and the flowers lining the sides of the house were wilting or dead. Not the most… appealing house, per say.
As Sam reached for his door handle, the door of the yellow house flung open. Out came a tall, scrawny teenager with a crooked smile. He hopped down the steps, skipping the last two, and ran up to the vehicle without a glance back at the house he came out of.
Sam still opened his door, stepping out of the vehicle. Wilbur watched as Sam walked around the front, holding a hand out to the teenager. The teen took the hand excitedly, shaking it with a weak grip and fierce determination. If Wilbur didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought this kid just got the best job of his life.
After Sam exchanged a few words with the teen, he gestured towards the back of the vehicle, seeming to point Wilbur out. The teen’s eyes lit up and he started shuffling over to the door. Wilbur sighed, shifting over to the furthest seat. Looks like he would get the pleasure of meeting the kid.
As soon as Sam turned away, the teen grabbed the handle of the vehicle, whipping it open and scrambling in. Wilbur watched with concerned eyes as the teen seemed to lack control of his limbs. Once the door slammed shut, the teen turned to Wilbur.
“I’m Tommy, Tommy Innit!” Now that Tommy was closer, Wilbur could see him more clearly. He still had a baby face, young skin surrounding bright blue eyes. His blond hair was ruffled and clearly messed up, but it was still golden. Something told Wilbur that his hair was a close resemblance of what Phil’s hair used to be.
“Ahem.” Wilbur glanced forward, noting the stern look in Sam’s eyes. When he turned back to Tommy, he looked a little sheepish.
“Sorry, sorry, formalities. I’m Private Innit.” Tommy held his hand out, putting it nearly in Wil’s face.
Wilbur took the hand gently, trying to not crush the kid’s hand. “Soot, Private Soot.” Tommy beamed in response, shaking Wilbur’s hand with the same energy he had done with Sam. Wilbur pulled his hand back, turning his body away from Innit as Sam pulled their vehicle out to the road again.
He tried to ignore the shifting from beside him, looking straight ahead. He wasn’t trying to be rude, he just wasn’t particularly in the mood to make friends. Especially not with golden boy.
“Do you think we’ll learn to shoot guns soon?” Wilbur tensed, shooting daggers at Tommy.
“Why would I know that?”
“I was just asking, man.” Tommy held his hands up in surrender. “Lighten up.”
Wilbur snarled at the kid. “I’m sorry I’m not extremely pleased to be torn from my family to fight a war we are destined to lose.”
“Soot.” Sam’s warning snapped Wilbur back to reality. His eyes widened, mouth losing the snarl, but the damage was already done. Tommy’s smile dimmed minutely, his eyes losing the spark they had seemed to radiate. He turned his body away, mumbling something under his breath.
Wilbur turned away as well, looking out the window again. He didn’t want friends, anyways, he didn’t need them. If he had to hurt a kid’s feelings, so be it.
When Wilbur finally got to climb out of the car, he took a deep breath. The air wasn’t exactly fresh, but it was certainly less tense than the air had been in the journey to the base. Tommy had kept his trap shut the entire time, not even sparing a glance at Wil. Sam had stayed silent, only casting disapproving looks at Wilbur occasionally. They made Wil feel like he was being scrutinized, which was not a comfortable feeling.
The base was loud. Privates marched around, following orders from generals, vehicles hauled supplies around the area, and if that wasn’t bad enough, there was a distant firing of guns. They were probably well over five miles away, but just the sound of them made Wilbur tense. He would be among them, if he was even able to get through training.
Sam marshaled them through the crowds, Wilbur between him and Tommy. They arrived at an office, Sam not even glancing back as he let the door fall into Wilbur’s arms. If Sam had been anyone else, he might’ve yelled. Instead, he followed Sam, holding the door for Tommy. He let him go ahead, eyes focused on a brunet sitting at the front of the room.
“Major Jacobs.” The brunet’s head snapped up, looking away from his computer screen. His green eyes were lighter than Sam’s, but had spots of blue in them. They were… unique.
“General Sam, welcome back, sir. Private Soot and Innit, correct?” Jacobs glanced back at them, but ultimately was asking Sam. Sam nodded, stepping out of the way to make sure both of them were seen.
“They’ll need their uniforms for basic training. They start tomorrow.” Wilbur’s head snapped towards Sam; he was kidding, right? The most rigorous, awful training that soldiers have to go through, just thrown upon them on their second day?
“Yes sir, let me go grab them.” Jacobs jumped out of his seat, rushing into a side door. Wilbur glanced down at Tommy, watching as he examined the office. As his eyes trailed around the room, they eventually met Wilbur’s; they awkwardly stared at each other for half a second before both of them looked away.
Jacobs, luckily, returned before Wilbur could stress about it too much. “Here, General, they are right here. They’ll be in your corridors, both sharing the smaller room with Private Underscore, Beloved, Manifold, and Shubble.” Wilbur suppressed the look he wanted to make. Sharing a room with Innit, permanently? Not exactly what Wilbur had been dreaming of.
“Thank you, Major. Let’s go, boys.” Sam started off, heading through a new set of doors. Wilbur let Tommy go in front this time, more focused on the courtyard they were walking into.
There was less chaos here—it was more organized, at least. Less drills happening, less artillery, just calm living. Soldiers walked across the yards, some pushing friends around. Others lounged, reading from books or just staring at the sky. No soldier cast them a glance as they passed; Wilbur was just another one of thousands. Nothing of high importance.
Sam led them past buildings of brick and stone. Every building had a sign above the door, a name that signified whose building it was. Wilbur saw all kinds of names, ranging from Halo to Quackity; there were over seven buildings in total, but Sam stopped in front of one of the buildings in the middle of it all.
Above the door, the sign read Warden. Wilbur glanced at Sam, but the man made no sign of stopping, pushing open the metal door, holding it just long enough for Tommy and Wilbur to sneak through.
Wilbur’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the harsh lighting, but as he squinted around, all he could see was a small area with some couches, two computers, and then a long hallway. Not five-star hotel material, that’s for sure.
“Welcome to your living quarters for the next two weeks. Probably.” Sam started heading down the hallway. “There’s forty different people living in these halls. Most people have to live in 12 or 13 people rooms, but there was one, random small room built here. No clue why, don’t ask. You guys are the last two for me to bring in, so you’re stuck there.”
Wilbur tried to glance into the rooms where the doors were open. Some were completely bland and empty, not a sign of life within them, others had some people sitting on beds. The people watched them pass, either looks of confusion or pity flashing in their eyes. Wilbur gulped, turning to watch Sam.
They arrived at the final door in the hallway. Sam gave a quick knock, allowing two seconds before pushing the door open. He walked in, without a word, nodding for Tommy and Wilbur to follow. Wilbur let Tommy go first, following after the blond.
He was met with four pairs of eyes on him. Four people watched him and Tommy closely. Wilbur stared back, not knowing if he should be the one to break eye contact or if that was a sign of weakness.
“These will be your roommates. Acquaint yourselves. They’ll teach you what to do, they’ve been here for a little longer.” And with that, Sam walked out of the room, closing the door shut behind him.
Wilbur was still staring at the four people, the awkward air starting to suffocate him. Luckily, he came in with an extrovert.
“I’m T- am I allowed to use my name when there is no general?” Tommy stepped forward, glancing at the four people. One, a short brunet, shook his head. “That’s shit. Whatever, I’m Private Innit.”
The same brunet barked out a surprised laugh. “Underscore. And yea, rules are kinda shit here.”
A lanky teen at Underscore’s side smacked his rib cage. “No swearing! I’m Beloved, yes, that’s unfortunately my name here. Not exactly what they consider threatening.”
A girl who sat on a bed near them grinned. “I think it’s sweet. I’m Shubble. The moody one behind me is Manifold. Don’t mind him, he just wanted the extra two beds to stay free so he could combine them at night or something.”
The guy, Manifold, rolled his eyes. “Can you blame a guy? It’s not like these beds can fit my huge size!”
“You are literally two feet tall, Manifold, shut up.” Underscore snarked at him, which sent the whole room into quiet laughter. Wilbur stood silently, glancing around at everyone. He couldn’t fathom why everyone was so… light-hearted. They were acting like this was a typical Tuesday night hangout instead of a war.
Wilbur was so deep into his thoughts that he didn’t even realize when the room became silent. When he blinked back into reality, he realized everyone was staring at him. He saw Tommy looking a little more quizzical than the rest; he chose to look away from him.
“Soot.” He said quietly, glancing away from them. The room was silent again. Seemed like Wilbur had a talent, after all.
“Well, there’s a bed open next to me,” Underscore pointed behind him at a freshly made bed. “And one next to Shubble. Take your pick.”
Wilbur glanced at Tommy, seeing if the kid had a preference, but Tommy had already moved towards the one by Underscore. He watched with wide eyes as Tommy threw his bag onto the bed, unzipping it without another word.
Well, fine. Wilbur wanted the one by Shubble anyways.
As Wil moved towards the final bed, the rest of the room started some light conversations with Tommy. He watched for a second, tearing his eyes away when Tommy glanced at him. He didn’t need or want friends; he said that from the start.
He was just fine.