Old WD x S writings #2
a snippet of them, i might make a continuation if someone wants it.. anyway, them.
Fluff, WD being taken care of and assured, guilt? yeah. 3K words, i wrote this while shipping them so,
Was the first thought that had invited itself into Wingding’s weary mind. And maybe he should’ve barricaded entry the moment a semblance of that sentence began to form within his head. Because shortly after he did, he could almost fold under the sinking pressure weighing down his chest. Along with the ache that had been plaguing his head for the last few days. Or maybe it’s just the lack of energy entering his most probably malnourished body. The energy monsters usually feed from their own specially made food and beverage..
"It feels nice, being held."
‘This will be hard to figure out, but I have to do it.’
He makes sure to eat once in a while of course, but his choice of food isn’t exactly something that's considered healthy.
For example, sometimes late at night when the integrity of everyone else’s slumber isn’t at risk, he would slip out of his densely packed lab and silently step downstairs. Take a few snacks for the long research, a soda if there even is one. Restocking on random items found to have been discarded into the endless darkness they’ve unwillingly resided in. He would slip back upstairs, and back inside his little safe-zone.
The discarded packaging laid neatly around his desk, amongst scattered research papers messily tucked into folders. Stacked upon each other. He had tried to remind himself to arrange it in a more pleasing, organized manner one of these days. But his fatigue alongside his abstracted mind prevents him more often than not.
Tuning out the constant hum of the new environment has been surprisingly simple. He has become accustomed to it. The hums are more of a white noise if anything at all. The sound of his ballpoint pen scratching against paper. Soft crinkles forming on another paper, suspended in the air by his tight grip rather than laid flat onto the wooden desk like the incomplete paper he wrote frantically upon. It was a familiar noise, one he had zeroed in on.
Which means he wouldn’t be able to take notice of the subtle scrape the sliding door creates once it’s slid open, shedding dim light within the darkness of the laboratory. Nor the mention of his name by one of his many alternative versions. Particularly, a certain extraterrestrial skeleton.
“Wingding?”
The mutter went unheard, as the scientist merely continued his uninterrupted motion. Irises reminiscent of amethyst drift over to Wingding’s hunched form. Dark cloak over Star’s broad shoulders. One hand holding a plain porcelain plate, the lukewarm food generously plated within the platter. Wingding’s supposed meal for the evening, or as the clock tells.
He slowly inclined his free hand upwards, as if reaching out towards the unaware scientist. Star exhaled, lowering his tinted hand and taking a sound step towards Wingding. The oblivious skeleton merely placed another paper atop the "draft" pile, attempting to continue his unfinished scientific research.
A brief yelp forced itself through Wingding as he felt the sudden, firm grip placed on his left shoulder. Wingding adjusted his glasses as he peered up, a frantic, vaguely peeved gaze locked onto Star’s, the serenity contrasting him. Yet the small frown etched onto the tall skeleton’s face indicates a hint of disapproval.
“Wingding, I understand concentration is a significant part in favor of successful research..” Star drew out, as he placed the dish down onto a less cluttered desk and placed both his hands atop the other skeleton’s shoulder, firm and quite hard to evade. Proven by Wingding’s weak attempt to relocate Star’s hands, overlooking his scolding expression. “But to this extent..? You’ve been in this exact same spot since I saw you this morning..”
Wingding gave a poorly hidden sigh, an undertone of dismay to it. “Your point?” He ceased his futile attempt to remove the hands off his shoulders and instead took his pen once more to continue writing, disregarding the other.
“I just need to finish this certain bit,” “Wingdi-” “I know, i know, i’ll-” he inhaled briefly and tapped his pen, an attempt to draw more ink before continuing his essay, “-lay off for today in a little while, i’m so close to a conclusion and i’m certain i can figure it out. I just need a few minutes, an hour maybe-”
“It’s unhealthy,” he's interrupted by a hand taking his pen away from his grip. He squinted, repressing a harsh exhale as he turned his accusing gaze up towards his friend— could he call them that? Friend. The word is unfamiliar on his tongue. He isn’t sure when he started associating Star with that word —and pulled a face.
Star however was quite familiar with that face, unmoved by the sight. He deliberately pocketed the pen and lowered his skull to press his forehead to the scientist, a practiced gesture of theirs. Mainly initiated by Star when Wingding needed a little more persuasion.
As Wingding scowled to Star, the other merely observed, so much patience behind that gaze. Both unwilling to yield.
Star’s mumble broke the tense silence, “I don’t want you falling ill because you’re too ignorant of your health..” he sighed, “I’m worried, Wingding.” He adds, steadying his unrelenting gaze against Wingding’s glowering face.
Star examined the other for a moment. Wingding’s single white iris, with its increasingly faltering shape on his stern, violet stare.
After moments of tense silence, Wingding’s stubborn glare began to falter. Simultaneous with Star’s retreating motion, taking a folded arms position instead. Wingding didn’t know nor did he wish to understand the reason for an almost imperceptible loss he felt. Not wasting a single second to sweep that feeling under the rug.
The scientist sighed, eyes moving away from Star’s steely stare. A slight pout forming upon his skeletal face. He gave a bare murmur whilst his fingers gently grazed the unfinished paper, furrowed skeletal brows as he pulled away from the minimal touch. ".. I need this, Star, i just.." he exhaled. Fidgeting with the hem of his coat.
He’s quick to rack his mind for something to justify his behavior, something to dismiss the other. The sooner he comes up with it the sooner he returns to his tedious work. Regardless, the words died within his mouth, opening without a decisive sentence.
His eyes darted frantically over his folders, papers, and the empty mug. However it’s becoming increasingly obvious he cannot cheaply bluff his way out of this one. Why? He has used every excuse in the book and beyond by now.
".. I can’t...stop.." he eventually relents. Shoulders sagging as a sigh made its way out during the confession. Quite embarrassed to admit such a thing but this isn't the first time the particular situation happens and he's running out of excuses.
All he could do under Star’s scrutiny is grip his elbow, trying to ignore his rising agitation.
Star blinked at the other's sentence. Intently eyeing the rigid movements as seconds pass, his expression eventually laxed. Bearing a less stern face, instead replaced with an uneasy appearance.
He had known Wingding was.. the stubborn type, the one who prefers to occupy his guilty mind with time consuming tasks to avoid ever having to confront heavy thoughts, never properly allowing himself to sit with his emotions nor grieve for what he’d lost.
Believing that with no attention paid to his destructive emotions that it will dissipate or fix itself somehow.
As if he believed those emotions are like whirlpools that if left alone would eventually still. But that was far from the truth.
One of few times Star had seen him show true vulnerability, showing his pure unadulterated feelings was when a former acquaintance of theirs betrayed the rest. Said acquaintance being someone who was particularly close with Wingding. Star remembers how he embraced the other during it, once he had initiated, he felt how much of a desperate grip it was. He was able to feel the hurt, the feelings of vanity and the all encompassing fear of being alone, so much so as to not want to let go, even after minutes of being in the embrace.
But it was evident that it did, indeed, help.
“..Wi-..” Star paused for a moment. Misjudging the sudden silence, Wingding quickly attempts to elaborate, “It’s just- I need to fix my mistake, Star. I need to take responsibility and make sense of it, i can’t-”
“Wingding, I understand.. I truly do,” Star slowly but steadily murmured. Eyes moving towards another, similarly designed table instead, filled to the brim with pens, folders, and coffee stained papers. Lab equipment, beakers, you name it.
Star kept debating with himself for a little while. He's not the best at speaking, uncertain at what sentence is best to utter at this moment, feeling the nooks and crannies of the words on his tongue before he actually allows himself to say it.
But he decides he should say something Wingding needs to hear. Eventually he manages to push out a sentence.
“However I've seen you push yourself to the limit more times than i can count.” he sighs, eyes shutting alongside his folded arms falling to the sides of his body. The faint image of the smaller skeleton's body slumped over the desk, unconscious from the constant experiments that increased stress, alongside the unaware whimpers formed by the sheer regret and shame. It gnaws at him.
“I’m tired of standing idly by and-.. watching you exhaust yourself for the sake of this idea of you atoning for mistakes that would’ve been and already have been forgiven.”
Star held his breath. His eyes opened and drifted down towards Wingding, peering away. Expression tense, seeming so.. downcasted. Star focused his eyes towards the scientist’s body language. They’re rigid, fixed in a single position, avoiding his eyes as much as possible. Star’s expression falls. Raising a hand to once more place it on Wingding’s shoulder.
He noted how the other wilted at his gesture.
“We don’t hate you for what happened, you were a victim of it just as much as the rest of us.” His voice softened, lowering to a whisper. “You couldn’t have possibly known what would’ve happened.”
At that, Wingding jerks up, almost defensively. Eyes wide and frenzied. “But I could have prevented it!” He opposed it. Raising a hand to grip at Star’s wrist, attempting to pull it away from his tense shoulders. His voice betrays his frantic actions. “Maybe it was the wiring or the powergrid, o-or— or missing parts! I-i should have seen it coming- i could have fixed whatever was wrong— it! I-i.. “
Eventually his movement grinded to a slow halt.
Wingding shifted to a cowering position. Star merely looked on silently, only able to sympathize with the other. Watching as his tremors slowly grew in intensity. Unable to hide such volatile emotions. A torrent thrashing at his chest, threatening to break free from its vessel.
Wingding clenched his jaw, teeth aching from the prolonged pressure whilst his head forcefully tilted down. He shouldn’t be seen like this, fragile and vulnerable. How shameful. “..if.. Only I could've seen it coming..”
“The future wasn’t meant to be seen, it was meant to be experienced.” Star intercepts. Allowing himself to inhale a slow breath just when he gradually descends onto his knees in front of the other. His hand that previously took a hold of Wingding’s shoulder now falling towards Wingding’s own hands. Palms facing up while the scientist gazed at it longingly.
Star tested the waters as he hesitantly nudged the tips of his fingers to Wingding’s palm.
“And I'm sure I wouldn't want to experience a future without you within it.”
After a few moments of delay. The scientist gave a slight nod, complying with the advance, his own hand twitching against Star’s. As Star took notice of the gesture, he slowly intertwined his hand with the other. Hoping to help Wingding by soothing the rising emotions.
“So won’t you please heed my words? Even for just a moment?” Star pleads. Wingding gathered the momentary courage to flicker his eyes upwards. Finding the taller skeleton’s gaze so.. Warm, filled with genuine concern. For him, of all people. The one who’s supposed to be the least concerned about.
Wingding couldn’t help feeling choked, forcefully tearing his eyes away.
While he gave Star’s hand a slight squeeze, he eased out a breath. “..This isn’t how it works.. It’s..” Wingding released an unsteady sigh. His body began to lean towards the table, seeking support by the elbow of his free arm propped atop it. The base of his palm pressing against his eye-sockets. “..It just keeps.. It.. I know it’s deserved..”
Wingding swallowed, the sentence came sounding weak. “I’m.. deserving of this retribution.. for what I've carelessly done..”
“If your standards think this is a deserved “punishment” then I'll gladly oppose it. Dismiss the mere thought of it” Star sharply cuts in.
Wingding felt the startling shock jump at his nerves, lifting his head from his hand, a dose of bewilderment administered into him whilst his eyes darted to Star’s expression. Watching the stiffened expression and a frown etched roughly onto his face. Wingding thinned his mouth into a line. He is unsure what to make of that expression. And he hates not knowing.
He pretends not to notice how Star's own shoulders began to tense.
“You are worth more than your missteps, you are more than your sins.” Star’s hand gave a gentle, assuring squeeze. Wingding can’t help but to take a peek at the action. His own, faint frown upon his face. Wingding tore his eyes away from it once more.
Witnessing it made him feel.. Something. It was so miniscule, but being someone who regularly avoids dwelling on everyday emotions, he wasn’t that familiar with it yet. And thus, it was far more impactful to his state of mind than it’s supposed to be.
Nevertheless, he returned the gentle grasp eventually.
“you deserve nice things, to be released from this cage you’ve built for yourself.. You’re undeserving of this cruelty you damned yourself into, Wingding.” Star concludes.. He himself wasn't particularly sure about what he's trying to say, far too vexed on Wingding's behalf. His words may not make the most sense, but he knew he meant every word.
Star drew in a gentle breath before he eventually rose back up to his feet. Wingding’s hand slid off of his at the motion. Star didn’t mind though, keeping his hands to himself for now. He’s sure the other has had enough of that at the moment.
“I’m.. Not expecting you to open up, not when you don’t feel comfortable enough to.” Perhaps he took his breaths for granted. Continuously pondering and trying to conjure the right words are straining for no obvious reason. “i.. just want you to see that this isn’t the way you’re supposed to live.. At least, not to this extent.”
“So.. will you take a break?” his eyes locked onto Wingding’s once more. “Please..?” he adds.
Wingding stared right into earnest eyes, he found himself frozen. His fist still closed on his lap while the other hand laid flat on the table. Gazing like a deer in headlights towards Star.
Star is tethering on the edge of restlessness. He kept a hand on the table, his fingers tentatively brushing at its surface. “You don’t have to say anything. Just take my hand, I promise you’ll be okay with me. Yes..?”
True to his word, he outstretched a hand for Wingding to take. Simple and yet, somehow the most dreaded thing for Wingding to face. Who hesitantly peered up to Star. seeking some sort of signal, encouragement? He wasn’t sure why. But taking the hand given to him feels like he’s going to turn himself in.
Like he'll resign and withdraw his walls, each carefully placed brick crumbling with each thought that contemplates whether he should take the offer placed in front of him.
In response, Star’s pupils gained a warm shine to it. Encouraging the other to calmer waters, like its promising the warmth of the sun, the view of the skies. Wingding found it impossible to avoid, how could he not? The promise was far too enticing, far too ideal.
“We’ll find a way, I promise. But I can’t have you dying on me– us. From overworking yourself to death before that.. Alright..?” Star hums softly.
Wingding, despite his skepticism, is convinced. Star perked slightly.
His smile subtly grew as he basked in the familiar feeling of a hand atop his palm. Gently grasping Wingding’s hand on his own. He helped the other up from the chair he’s been sitting on for the last few days.
Star expected the scientist’s loss of footing, he had assumed Wingding hadn't gotten up from that chair in ages. He caught the unstable scientist within his embrace. It’s the second time they’ve properly hugged. He took precious time with his movements, gently massaging circles across Wingding’s back. Hoping it brings a sense of solace to the other. His left hand cradles the back of Wingding’s head, whose face is hidden within the fabric of his shirt.
Star allowed a moment of comfortable silence. Humming soft hymns while Wingding took time to collect himself. Though they can't keep standing in the midst of this lab forever.
“Good..” Star praised. “Now, how about we find something.. Else, to keep you busy..?” Star suggested, pulling his chest away from Wingding. Not allowing the shorter skeleton to hide his face anymore. Much to Wingding’s obvious dismay. Star merely gave a light, amused chuckle as the hand on Wingding’s back motioned a slight push. Guiding Wingding forward beside him.
“Anything to get you out of this lab, you’ve been in here day and night Wingding..” Star bemused whilst he helped Wingding step outside of the dimly lit room towards the light of the hallway. Keeping the scientist right beside him.
