Chapter Text
Wilbur had a simple life.
And see that was the problem, it was simple. It was straightforward. It was stark of any excitement, stripped from any extravagance. It was ordinary, in a world full of the extraordinary, Wilbur’s life was ordinary. It was basic. It was boring.
So maybe that’s what led him to the bar.
There was life here, exciting, entertaining, exhilarating life.
There was life here, but the people acted as if this was the last night of their lives. They drank and danced and swayed drunkenly to the sound of violins and violas as if there would be no tomorrow. It wasn’t simple. It was complicated and messy and carefree.
And Wilbur loved it.
The liquor burned the back of his throat. He winced slightly. It tasted funny. It was bitter and salty and it made his head feel a little fuzzy. He wanted more. Wilbur held out his glass for a refill, the bartender took it. Good. He would be getting more.
He stared forlornly at the display of bottles behind the bar, behind the man who was fetching his beverage. It was a shame, really, that he was drinking all alone. Wilbur may have a simple life with simple folk, but they’re certainly people that he cares about, however simple they may be.
None of them want to drink though. Oh well, more fun for him.
The glass was set in front of him, with little liquid sloshing onto the countertop. The music slowed momentarily. He held the glass to his lips. The drink tasted different than the last, more tangy. While he was gathering his thoughts, the tempo of music within the tavern resumed to something a bit more rhythmical. Wilbur supposed that was his cue to dance. He left behind a handful of coins on the countertop.
He stumbled onto the dance floor. His steps were uneven and his balance was altered, but it was so easy to get lost in the motion, to get lost in the sea of people, to get lost in the sound of the shawms. Wilbur loved it. He wanted to dance until he dropped, which might be soon considering how shaky and weak his legs were. Wilbur wasn’t by any means a lightweight, so that was slightly worrying, he hadn’t realized how much he’d been drinking. He should step outside to clear his head, breathe in some fresh air. But the music. He couldn’t leave the music, so he settled for sitting at a table near the musicians instead.
There was admiration in his eyes as he watched them play. Nothing but awe. There was something so beautiful about how someone could take an instrument and bring it to life with sound, to get the inanimate object to sing. Wilbur could do that with his guitar, or at least, he wanted to. He might have a simple life, but that didn’t mean he had all the time in the world for his songs.
Someone sat in the chair across from him. He turned to face them. She was pretty. The girl had long, long red hair and she was very, very tall. Or at least, definitely taller than him. She had sunkissed skin with a spattering of freckles, that was the first thing Wilbur noticed about her, once his eyes started to focus. The freckles.
He blinked. He blinked again. The drowsiness was starting to dissolve. Wilbur looked around the bar, then back at the girl. She looked out of place, to say the least, like an eyesore, as she would to be to most, but Wilbur begged to differ. She was like eye candy to him. She was beautiful.
“Hi,” she said softly, her voice almost drowned out by violins and the heavy footsteps of those dancing behind her.
“Hi,” Wilbur smiled. He rested his face in his palms. The girl’s eyes were strikingly red, Wilbur found himself in awe instead of on alert. “Care to introduce yourself?”
“Sally. The name’s Sally,” she responded, speaking in the same honeyed tone. Her head cocked slightly to the side. “And you?”
“Wilbur. Wilbur Soot.”
She nodded curtly at his reply. The music changed to something more . . . romantic. Wilbur glanced at the girl again. She was staring at him expectantly. His legs had mostly stopped shaking. Mostly. His head wasn’t too fuzzy either. He could dance again.
Wilbur extended his hand towards her. “Would you care to dance?”
Sally smirked. “I thought you’d never ask.”
His eyes twinkled. Sally let him drag her towards the dance floor.
It was a little awkward at first, no one knew the right place to put their hands, they kept stepping on each other’s toes and Wilbur’s knees were still wobbling ever so slightly. They adjusted quickly though, as soon they were swaying to the songs, dancing to the rhythm with Wilbur’s hands resting on Sally’s hips and her on his shoulders. It made him realize how tall she was, and she was quite, quite tall, definitely taller than him, and Wilbur wasn’t short by any standards. She towered over him. It was kinda hot.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” he asked, raising his hands to reach hers when the song switched. She allowed it. Their fingers intertwined. Sally took charge from here. It was very clear who was in control, but Wilbur didn’t mind. He let her do as she pleased.
“What makes you say that?” she questioned, slowly spinning him in a gentle pirouette.
Wilbur shrugged. “Never seen you here before,” he answered honestly. Sally raised an eyebrow as she continued to sway them around the dance floor effortlessly.
“You come here often?” she asked. Wilbur could hear the smile in her voice.
“Not that often,” he scoffed, gripping the sleeves of her shirt as she lowered him towards the ground. A ballroom dip. His knee threatened to buckle, but Sally caught him and pulled him to his feet with ease. She had too much trust in him to catch his balance though. Wilbur nearly crashed into her at the sudden motion, but Sally didn’t seem to mind, she just held him closer, more carefully. Wilbur liked it. It kept him on his toes, literally. It was exciting. He liked Sally.
They did that for a while longer. Dance and bicker and banter. It was sort of beautiful. Wilbur had just met this woman no more than an hour or two ago, but they got along so well. She would push, he would pull. She would tug, he would turn. It was like a game. It was fun. Would it be like that if they kissed? Now he was curious, and horny. Wilbur wanted to kiss her, just to see if she kept up the charade.
“We should go,” he said breathlessly once the music slowed for the final time. People had slowly been trickling out of the pub all evening, they were some of the last few left inside. It was sort of desperate, but Wilbur didn’t want her to leave without him.
Sally giggled. “Where should we go?”
“Anywhere,” he rasped, looking up into her red, red eyes. “Anywhere as long as it’s with you.”
“How about my place?” she asked.
“Yes,” he answered quickly. Maybe a little too quickly, because Sally shot him a look. She stared at him intensely for a second or two before she burst out laughing. Wilbur laughed as well. It was hard not to, Sally’s laugh was contagious. It rang joyously throughout the almost-empty tavern as she led him to the coat racks.
They helped each other slip on their coats and button up their jackets. Wilbur’s coat was old, and adorned with patches to keep it from falling apart whereas Sally’s was new and pretty and perfect and didn’t have a single seam out of place. It said a lot about who they were. It was funny. They were complete opposites and yet they complimented each other so well. It was strange, to find comfort in someone who was so nothing like you. It was intricate, and complicated. Exactly the kind of complicated Wilbur wanted.
It was cold outside, much colder than Wilbur had anticipated. He could see his own breath and he could feel the freezing winter frost crawl up his gangly limbs. His whole body shivered. Sally noticed. She offered him her coat, but he refused. He couldn’t take it, that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of him. He’d rather shiver and suffer silently, or not so silently, as his teeth were starting to chatter, than have her succumb to the same fate. It was only a little frostbite afterall, and the inn couldn’t be too much further. It was a kind offer though. Wilbur appreciated it, but at the same time he wanted her to watch him shiver and then warm him up herself later. She was quite hot, after all.
He recognized the inn as soon as they turned the corner. It was only a couple blocks away from the bar, but this end of town . . . it was luxurious, it was lavish and lush. It was for the rich, and Wilbur was not rich. He was far from rich. He was very, very far from rich. If he lived alone, he would be fine, if Wilbur lived by himself he would be close to middle class. But he didn’t. Wilbur lived with his brother, and his brother’s best friend, and his brother’s best friend’s boyfriend. And they were living ever so slightly above the poverty line. Wilbur could not enter the inn. He didn’t know how to tell her.
Wilbur stopped suddenly. He hadn’t meant too, but it was like the gears that interlocked his limbs had run out of oil and started rusting. His legs wouldn’t move. His arm, which was loosely intertwined with Sally's, suddenly tightened. He was frozen. Wilbur didn’t know what to do. Well, he wanted to do Sally but he couldn’t let her know that he was dirt poor. Or worthless. Girls didn’t like it when he was worthless, but then again, neither did guys. Regardless, the point still stood. Wilbur could not enter the inn. He didn’t have the stature to do so.
“Is something wrong?” Sally asked. She looked concerned, she sounded concerned. Wilbur didn’t want to disappoint her. She was pretty and perfect and playful and everything that Wilbur wanted in a woman, but she had money, and now that he knew it, it was inherently obvious. Idiot. He cursed at himself. He was an idiot. “Wilbur?”
“I can’t go in there.”
“Why not?” she asked. It was hard to tell what tone she was trying to convey.
Wilbur took a shaky breath. “I don’t have much money,” he uttered. “I- I can’t afford to stay at a place like this. I should’ve known, I-”
Sally’s hands held his face. She forced him to look at her. It was kind of startling, she moved very quickly. Wilbur’s breath was caught in his throat.
“That’s okay,” Sally said quickly. She still spoke softly. “I sort of presumed that, and besides, I didn’t invite you here expecting you to pay, I brought you back here for us to have a good time, is that still alright?”
She was so rough and tough with him earlier. Not in a bad way, he liked it. But he didn’t know how to act, she was treating him so sweetly, it couldn’t be part of the charade, could it? Wilbur hardly knew her long enough to know. But it seemed real. It seemed real. She didn’t care about his status, she cared about him and she cared about having a good time. He could give her that.
He nodded. “Yes, yes, yes , that’s still alright, okay,” he let out a relieved sigh. Sally still liked him. Phew. Wilbur cringed when her hands left his face though, his nose crinkled. He took in another shaky breath and wiped his weary eyes. He hadn’t realized they had been watering, whatever, it didn’t matter anyways. He didn’t want to think about it anymore. Sally was waiting for him on the front porch, he was quick to accompany her.
They didn’t spend much time in the lobby. Wilbur kicked slush and snow off the bottom of his shoes whilst Sally spoke with the innkeeper. However, in no time at all, Sally was leading him down the hallway to her room with his hand in hers. She was eager. Good. So was he. The drastic difference of their financial status was stuck in the back of his head though. But this was what he wanted. It wasn’t simple. It was something so complicated, for the sake of something that should be so carefree.
Love.
Sally’s room was really nice. Like seriously nice. Wilbur was a little mesmerized. The room itself was quite quaint, but it was decorated nicely, and lavishly. The bed frame was made out of expensive metals and the mattress was adorned with handcrafted quilts. They were white as well. That was an establishment of wealth. If something made of white fabric could be kept white, then it belonged to someone wealthy.
Wilbur didn’t own any white clothing.
He scanned the rest of the room while Sally shucked off her shoes. The cost of staying here for a night was probably worth more than a week’s worth of rent. Maybe a month. He felt out of place. This was wrong .
He should go home, his gut was telling him to go home, but instead Wilbur kicked off his boots, unbuttoned his coat and sat on the bed next to Sally.
It was softer than he expected, he sunk slightly into the mattress. It was far nicer than his bed, if you could even call it that. Wilbur slept on the couch nowaday anways. He let his brother and the best friend and the boyfriend have it. They could have his bed, and he could have the couch. He was the oldest, afterall. He could suffer a little, but god. If this was a hotel bed, Wilbur wondered what Sally’s actual bed was like. Beyond luxurious, probably. She was lucky. Wilbur wasn’t.
Sally cleared her throat. It snapped Wilbur out his thoughts. He turned towards her expectantly. It startled him when she reached out and grabbed his jaw, holding it strictly in place. She moved so quickly it was kind of scary. Her grip was very tight. He was being forced to look at her, he couldn’t read her expression. Wilbur gulped nervously.
“You’re so beautiful,” she purred, and Wilbur melted a little. “There’s so many things I wanna do to you, sweetheart.”
“Then do it,” he whispered. He must’ve whispered too quietly though, because Sally just stared at him expectantly. He cleared his throat. “Then do it.”
Wilbur was pinned to the mattress in seconds with Sally sitting on top of him, her long, long red hair brushing his upper body as she leaned down to look at him. Wilbur was winded, completely out of breath and panting heavily, but Sally wasn’t. Sally breathed so slowly that Wilbur could be convinced she wasn’t breathing at all. She didn’t seem flustered either, she seemed smug . It was kind of embarrassing how flustered Wilbur was in comparison. He wanted to look away but he couldn’t, something about Sally was so compelling, so alluring, so addicting. Wilbur wanted her. He wanted her badly.
Their lips slot together nicely. Their tongues intertwined, but ultimately he let Sally do what she wanted. He was pliant, but it was nice to be taken care of sometimes too. Wilbur could feel a thin coating of her red lipstick plaster onto his mouth, he could taste it a little bit too, but mostly he tasted iron. Sally tasted metallic, like iron. Like blood. Briefly, Wilbur wondered what he tasted like, probably beer and barley and tobacco. Sally tugged at his bottom lip with her surprisingly sharp teeth and giggled when he moaned.
“You look so good beneath me,” Sally cooed as she pulled away. Wilbur tugged at her hair. He didn’t want her to pull away, he wanted her to pamper him with kisses, pamper him with kindness. Or maybe not. She could be mean to him and he’d probably like that too. He just didn’t want her to stop now that she’d finally started.
His hands curled tightly around her hips, nails digging into her skin but Sally didn’t acknowledge it, instead she tilted his head to the side slightly. He complied, but she held his face down with her hand anyways. It was hot, he felt really, really hot. Sally unbuttoned his shirt and ran her nails over his neck. Wilbur wanted her lips there instead. He was hot, uncomfortably hot. Wilbur tried not to squirm.
“Sit still or I’ll stop,” Sally threatened. She sounded serious. Wilbur stayed as still as a statue. He did not want her to stop. Especially not when her lips were finally connected to his collarbone, sucking at the skin and slowly trailing up to his neck. Especially not now.
It was nice at first, with Sally gently nibbling at his neck and slowly sucking at his skin. But after a while the biting wasn’t so gentle. And Wilbur was fine with that, but he wasn’t fine with that when it started to hurt, when her too sharp teeth started to plunge a little too deep into the nape of his neck, when the playful biting turned painful; he wasn’t fine with that.
“Sally stop,” he gasped.
She showed no sign of having heard him.
“Sally. Sally. Sally stop,” Wilbur pleaded. “Sally, please, stop! You’re hurting me, stop!”
She didn’t stop. Or show any signs of having heard him at all. Wilbur started to panic. He was in pain, she was hurting him and holding him down and she wasn’t listening and wasn’t stopping. He started thrashing around, trying to hit her and claw at her hands and kick her off his chest, but she didn’t budge. Sally was stronger than him, and probably heavier too, it wasn’t hard for her to hold him down, even with him thrashing around violently beneath her.
Wilbur went slack when Sally’s teeth punctured his neck.
It hurt. It hurt really fucking bad.
“Get the fuck off me!” Wilbur shouted, kicking and screaming once the initial shock had worn off.
Her teeth just sunk deeper into his neck.
Wilbur started to sob. Ugly sob. He was scared. He was scared out of his fucking mind. He continued to hit and claw and scratch at her, it was half-assed but god, he hurt so bad, he just wanted it to stop . In hindsight, it made sense. Wilbur had kissed her like he had all the time in the world, and Sally had kissed him like she wanted to eat him alive. He shouldn’t be so surprised that she did. He was so stupid. The spark between them had turned into a wildfire, but the only thing it seemed to burn was Wilbur. He was the fire, and he was the forest. He got to watch it all unfold. He’d done this to himself. He started to sob harder.
Blood trickled down the side of his neck. It was warm and wet and it trickled down his neck and stained his only nice shirt. He could feel his own blood pooling beneath him before it sunk into the bedding. The white sheets were ruined. He was crying, and sweating, and he was still stuck beneath her. Sally was sure keen on having Wilbur put his blood, sweat and tears into her half-hearted love.
It was hard to see. Wilbur could barely see anything through the blur of his tears and the blackness around the edges of his eyes that threatened to block out what little he could see. It was the lightheadedness, maybe. Blood loss. His head felt so foggy, he could hardly think about anything other than how badly he wanted to stop hurting, how badly he wanted to go home. This was complicated, but it was not the kind of complicated he wanted. This was the kind of complicated that was dangerous. This was the kind of complicated-
Wilbur blacked out before he could finish the thought.