A/N: I don't really know how music tours work... Like, would it be inconceivable for Wilbur to extend the tour? Who the fuck knows. Not me.
On another note, I have an RP forum specifically for timecest RPs put up, so if anyone's interested, check it out.
Wilbur hadn't answered any of his family's calls in the past nine months that he'd been on tour.
He was silent, everything was silent on his tour bus. His agent and the guys who always played the other instruments always travelled ahead of him instead of riding in the tour bus. Not to mention the bus was one of his dad's many inventions that had been just for his family's use - a self-driving tour bus with holographic projectors on the outside, currently showing off various photos of him and ads for his tour - so he didn't even have a driver to talk to.
He was going a little stir crazy, but he used the time to practice his set, and pointedly ignored the calls he got every five minutes from various family members.
He played all sorts of instruments - keyboard, drums, harp, violin, etc. - but he could never figure out guitar. He wasn't sure why, but the chords just confused him, and his fingers would never be in the right place when trying to play.
He was lucky he could sing.
He remembered once asking his dad for a self-strumming guitar, but he hadn't ever given him an update on how that was coming. Maybe he would, if Wilbur cared to answer his calls, but after that interview...
"His name is Lewis."
Yeah, no way in hell was that happening.
Wilbur groaned as yet another call interrupted him practicing 'Little Wonders'. Maybe it was for the best. He couldn't really tell how good he was without the other guys backing him up as he sang. He gave up on practicing, and went to check the GPS to see how long until they got to the next hotel.
Three hours.
...Damn it. He was either going to sit there bored - which he usually tended to do - or he was going to answer the next call that came.
His phone rang right on schedule. Giving in, Wilbur stormed over to see who it was.
His dad... Great.
Mentally debating with himself, Wilbur let it ring three times before finally answering.
"Hello?" he said. Then he berated himself because in his somewhat nervous state, 'hello' seemed really stupid to him.
"Hey," Cornelius said. "You finally answered."
"I finally answered," Wilbur repeated as if he was a robot.
"Listen, there's something I want to talk to you about..."
Oh god, here it comes...
"I finished that self-strumming guitar you wanted. I can either send it over to you and you can use it for the rest of this tour, or you can get it when you come home, and have it for the next tour."
...What.
"Uh..."
"Which one?" Cornelius asked. "Because I think it might not get there in time for you to have it... You know what? I'll just keep it here and you can have it next time."
...What.
"You're not... Mad?"
"Mad?"
"About... About..."
He could practically hear Cornelius's smirk as he said, "The interview?"
Wilbur swallowed thickly. "Y-yeah. That."
"Not at all. Now, if you'd said that you love Cornelius, well, then we might have a few problems. But you love Lewis."
"Loved," he said quickly, too quickly.
"Mm-hm," Cornelius said, clearly not believing him. Wilbur didn't blame him.
Wilbur felt his stomach churn as he said, "And... Anyway... You are Lewis."
"Oh? So you're saying that you do love me that way?"
"N-no! I used to love Lewis, and then I stopped, but you're still Lewis!"
He heard Cornelius sigh.
"Then listen. Lewis loved you back. But I'm not Lewis anymore, so if you still-"
"I don't," Wilbur said sharply.
Silence on the other end. If he couldn't hear Cornelius's breathing, he'd swear that he'd hung up.
"Okay."
Then he actually did hang up. Wilbur let his phone drop from his hand. What did that mean, he wondered?
He doubted Cornelius believed that he'd pushed away his feelings. That much was clear.
And, god, what was he thinking? 'You are Lewis.' Was he... Actually trying to push those feelings onto his own father? No, no, he wasn't really that fucked up. He couldn't be. He...
He wouldn't let himself be that fucked up. He dialed the number for his agent. "Hey, uh, think we can extend the tour a little? By, um... Several months or so?"
His agent hadn't gone for it, stating that it was too late in the tour to suddenly ask for an extension. So, three months later, Wilbur was brought back to his house.
As soon as he stepped inside, his eyes widened. His entire family was there under a huge, lit up, 'Welcome Home!' sign. Carl lit off some fireworks the moment he walked in, and everyone screamed, "Welcome home, Wilbur!"
Wilbur smiled, but he knew it was only a matter of time before someone brought up his interview.
...Only, no one ever did. Five hours later the celebration was still going strong, and no one had even hinted at his interview.
Finally, Wilbur was sick of it.
"Is no one going to mention my interview?!"
"Oh, honey, you were wonderful," Franny said easily, shocking him.
"Best one to date," Billie agreed. He was shocked further, and it continued this way until everyone had agreed that he'd done wonderfully, and Wilbur was nearly catatonic with shock.
"Wilbur? You okay?" someone asked. He wasn't sure. Maybe Fritz or Tallulah.
"Do you guys remember what happened on the interview?"
Everyone blinked. "You mean you telling everyone that you're in love with Lewis?" Franny asked, a soft smile coming to her lips.
Wilbur flinched, more put off by everyone's calmness than he would be if they'd been freaking out. "Yes! And if you guys are taking this so well, then why have you been calling me nonstop the past year I was on tour?!"
"We called so much because we were worried something was wrong, because you weren't answering," Tallulah said. "Why weren't you picking up?"
Everyone stared at Wilbur, obviously upset. "That... Is an excellent question."
They all laughed. "That's our Wilbur," Laszlo said, grinning.
Wilbur relaxed, and no one brought up the interview again.
Cornelius came into his room later, when the celebrations had settled down. Wilbur met his gaze evenly, even as terror and disgust and hope mingled inside of him.
"I think we should continue that conversation we had on the phone," Cornelius said. "You said that I'm Lewis... Does that, or does that not, mean that you-"
"It does."
Cornelius blinked, and Wilbur stared down at the floor, bile rising in his throat. "Fuck, it does, and I hate myself for it. Can we just... Not talk about it? I wanted to think that I didn't love you that way, but... God, I think... Fuck, I'm so disgusting, I-"
"Wilbur. You are many things. Talented, prideful, friendly, lazy... You are not disgusting."
Wilbur swallowed, trying not to throw up. "But I-"
"And I feel the same, so what does that make me, if you're so disgusting?"
Ice ran through Wilbur's veins and shock made him stand stock still, staring at Cornelius. "You... You... What?"
"I tried to deny it - god, did I ever try to deny it. But... I just... I..."
Tears. Tears dripped from Cornelius's eyes, and then Wilbur's vision blurred with tears of his own. They both tried frantically to scrub them away. "I'm sorry," one of them said. The other said, "It's okay."
To this day, neither is sure who said what.
To this day, neither is sure who crossed the room, who pressed a kiss to the other's lips as disgust and happiness mingled inside them both.
Neither cares.