False Pride
He'd always go quiet when his dad walked in the room.
No special reason- or, at least that's what he said to everyone else. The raven-haired boy could call it easier to eat fire than to look his father in the eye. Even when the inventor was busy showing them his newest upgrade, the tips and tricks to a new machine, Wilbur would slink out in the shadows, trudge to his room and hide where he thought nobody could find him.
They hadn't understood the first few times. He'd brush away their concerned words with a casual "No, I'm fine." or "Not feeling so great today, that's all.". His family, more specifically his mother and Carl, grew to learn that at certain times the teen just needed to be... alone. He would never say why, no, that'd be to far into his personal space. He didn't bother giving an excuse. No lies. Nothing that would signal him noticing their worry at all. Wilbur would gaze out the window, look at his hands, or even just close his eyes until they left the room and shut the door.
Then, his wall would break. He knew that he had few friends, and those he did have treasured him because his dad was 'so cool'. Or they would want to play Chargeball. Or take a ride in the time machine. So eventually Wilbur stopped bringing friends over- they just didn't understand, either. Nobody understood.
Lewis wouldn't have thought his dad's inventions were 'so cool'. No, Lewis would just look forward to inventing them himself.
Nobody understood. It nearly killed Wilbur from time to time to imagine what his young father was doing- it ripped him apart to know that said boy, whos eyes of brilliant blue could captivate any person, or being for that matter, into hearing his stories and tales of inventions...
...was his father.
It tore Wilbur's mind apart. The young, carefree, once-orphaned inventor had turned into the colder, stricter man he was today. The looks didn't differ much, apart from the change in the eyes. The eyes that once made Wilbur's breath catch in wonder were now the eyes he couldn't even look into. The scolded him, they warned him, they no longer inspired trips of adventure. They forced him into the corners of his room, his haven, his security.
Once the door was closed, the false pride was no more.
He couldn't let them see him cry.
Not his father.
Not his mother.
Not even Lewis.
Lewis...
The truest love always results in the deepest scars.
And then he would stop. Wipe the tears away, straighten his shirt, push the dreams of seeing his only true friend out of his mind, holding them dearly in the clutches of his past, ready to take them out next time he hid away. He would unlock the door, regain the pride that was his mask, and return to the family where he looked on with grey eyes.
Only he bothered to remember.
They didn't understand him.
Why he'd always go quiet when his dad walked in the room.
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Hope that made at least a little bit of sense. I felt sad so I wanted to write something sad. I whipped this up in 15 minutes, just under the documents of an old story I wasn't coming near to finishing. ; So, hope you enjoyed.
Reviewing would be loved. I'm also in the middle of another MtR fanfic, gonna be 10-15 chapters, each chapter pretty long. I'll be putting the prologue up in a day or so, just have to get it from one computer to the other. Hope you like my first MtR fanfic- I know it was angsty and somewhat dark, but that's just how my mind is at the moment. Reading sad fic writing sad fic, so start up that good old typewriter (kidding...).
Keruseya Natsuki
livejournal: keruseya