[sock]

TW: SUGGESTED SUICIDE (eventually)

M-A-M-A-B-O-Y, mama's boy, mama's boy...


＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩ ̩͙*˚＊


He never thought he'd come back here. He hardly recognized the place, save for a few dream-like impressions, but he supposed that was to be expected; after all, he'd only been seven when they took him away. He held his breath as he stepped onto the porch, but it was knocked out of him when Daniel clapped him on the shoulder. "Good luck, Wilbur," he said, and Wilbur couldn't help but smile. "Thanks." Atlas, beside Daniel, looked like she was on the verge of tears. She was an... emotional type. "Are you sure you don't want us to come in with you?" she asked, fidgeting with her gloves like she did when she was nervous.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Wilbur said. "And you guys need to stay out here and watch for Enforcers." Atlas nodded, giving him an encouraging smile. Then she and Daniel stepped over to flank the old door. Wilbur set his hand on the doorknob, and it chattered in its socket - he was shaking. His friends obviously noticed, because they were still watching him, but they thought they were being discreet about it now. Wilbur ignored them.

He watched his hand, wondering why he'd be quivering like this. Why was he scared? He was finally seeing his mother after like, sixteen years, this should be exciting, right? He should be happy! But what if she didn't want him? His grip tightened on the doorknob, and he could feel rather than see his friends' worried expressions as his pointed tail began to slash through the air behind him. "Okay," he said more to himself than them. "Here I go."

Wilbur took a deep breath, pushing the door open slowly. The creak of the hinges sounded louder than it should have in the empty silence of the house. He stepped inside, the air thick with dust and memories. The living room was just as he remembered it, yet everything seemed smaller, more worn out. He moved forward, his footsteps echoing in the stillness.

"Mom?" he called out, his voice shaky. "Mom, it's me, Wilbur."

Silence.

He made his way through the house, every room holding a fragment of his childhood. The kitchen, where she used to make his favorite meals. The hallway, lined with old photographs. The door to her bedroom was slightly ajar. He hesitated for a moment before pushing it open.

"Mom?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper now.

The room was empty. The bed was neatly made, everything in its place, but there was no sign of his mother. His heart pounded in his chest as he searched the room, desperate for any clue. And then he saw it: a piece of paper on the nightstand. He picked it up with trembling hands, recognizing what he could only guess was his mother’s handwriting.

-Wilbur,

If you’re reading this, it means you've come back. I'm so sorry I couldn’t be here for you. Life without you was unbearable, and I couldn't find the strength to keep going. I hope you understand. I love you more than anything in this world. Be safe, my son.

Tears blurred his vision as he read the note. He hardly noticed when his legs gave out, and he sank to the floor, clutching the note to his chest with wide eyes. The room spun around him, and he struggled to breathe. The walls seemed to close in, and he felt an unexplained crushing weight on his chest. Sixteen years he'd worked for this moment, looking forward to it, imagining how it would go. This was all wrong, she shouldn't be gone, she couldn't be, why had she done this, was it his fault? Why why why-

"Wilbur!" He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there, but Atlas's high-pitched voice pierced through the haze of his thoughts. She and Daniel burst into the room, their faces filled with concern. "We have to go. Now."

Daniel knelt beside him, gripping his shoulders. "Wilbur, get up. The Enforcers are coming. We don't have much time."

Wilbur tried to focus, but his mind was spinning. Atlas grabbed his hand, her grip firm and reassuring. "We need you to get up, Wilbur. Come on. We have to get out of here." Her voice had dropped its extra panicked octave, and she was speaking more slowly. Gentler, now, as if speaking to a small child, which he couldn't blame her for.

He took a deep yet shaking breath, trying to calm himself. The urgency in their voices grounded him. With their help, he managed to stand up, still clutching the now crumpled note in his fist.

They moved quickly through the house, Atlas and Daniel keeping a lookout for any signs of the Enforcers. As they stepped outside, the sound of approaching vehicles sent a jolt of fear through them. They sprinted toward the ship, hidden in the small stretch of woods behind the house. The trees provided some cover, but they could hear the Enforcers getting closer.

"Come on, come on," Daniel urged as they reached the ship. The ramp lowered, and they scrambled inside, sealing the door behind them. The engines roared to life, and the ship lifted off, just as the Enforcers arrived.

Wilbur slumped into a seat, his body shaking with adrenaline and grief. Atlas sat beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "We made it," she said softly. "We're safe now."

He nodded, but his thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions. They had escaped, but his mother was gone. He looked at the note in his hand, the words blurring again as tears filled his eyes.

"We're here for you, Wilbur," Daniel said, sitting across from him. "Now tell us what the hell is going on."