Work Text:
Fundy loved his father.
The man in his life that brought him to this world, carried him around when he couldn't walk, calmed him down when he couldn't sleep. He felt loved and cared about.
Wilburs musical talents were nothing new, even since a baby there hasn't been a single memory that he can recall that doesn't have a melody representing it. Fascinating how his father can calm the angry oceans that could be Fundy with just a simple melody. How he could make crowds cry for the first time in months.
Fundy loved his father and his musical talents.
- - - - -
There is something cruel about Fundy, Wilburs son, not being able to listen to his fathers songs anymore. Not because the foxes hated for his distant father, even after all he did to him, all this neglect of not caring enough, babying him and just not seeing Fundy as who he was, but because it just hurt too much. The pleasant memories long gone being brought back, opening up old wounds in the process.
Most of the time Fundy wanted to do nothing more than to be able to get lost in those precious melodies, which would drown out the annoying voices reminding him of how much of a failure he is, what a pain in anyone life he is. Fundy wants to relish whatever Wilbur was willing to offer, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. It is as if he wasn't permitted to even escape to his little bubble of safety that were Wilburs songs.
It was a cruel joke that was dealt by his own brain.
When Fundy tries to listen to certain songs from his father he is hit with a fight or flight response. The songs are good, the best he has ever had the pleasure of hearing, but in his brain a loud alarm was begging him to turn it off and run away before it can hurt you.
Scary it was thinking about the reason why.
How could something so peaceful be so cruel? When he was merely a little kit his father would sing him those exact tunes to sleep, but now it brought nothing but misery and distress and he hated himself for it. Because as much as he wants to blame yet another thing on his father, it was his fault, he was fucked up.
He felt jealous of Wilbur and the feeling of uselessness was there to worsen this feeling. Fundy felt like he wouldn't even come close to achieving the greatness which his fathers songs are, he could never compose anything that could bend the feelings of People at his whim. Fundy could never be like Wilbur. Never able to make a song for himself.
Fundy would never achieve anything.
He was useless.
He was a nobody.
And he couldn't even listen to a normal song.
Even though he was satisfied with his life as it is, in his anonymity, in his bubble of being able to do what he wants and not directly be seen and observed at every move he made like many others, but he couldn't stop and be jealous of Wilbur.
The thought of wishing that Will was never born so he could have been him, playing in his mind guilty. Fundy hated it. Hated everything that some Wilburs songs brought with them, as if they were mocking him and laughing at him in his face.
Fundy loved his father, but jealousy, pain and self hatred didn't make it easy to forgive.