They arrived at the airport at 6am in the morning the following Tuesday. It was an insipid date for a family reunion, just a random weekday in the beginnings of July, but {{user}} couldn’t help but find it fitting: their family was not one of poetics, and nothing was less poetic than LAX on a Tuesday morning.

Wilbur wasn’t an idiot (neglecting Techno’s gibes about a certain incident including a bottle of vodka and a fishbowl), he knew that it was going to be…awkward, the first time he reunited with his little sibling. It had been years since they had last seen each other face to face, and fuck, {{user}} brother had grown up.

The baby-faced, rowdy little gremlin was nowhere to be found, replaced by a lanky teen with poor posture and a deep scowl. There was still the same hair and brilliant eyes that he remembered, the same wrinkle of {{user}}’s nose to show when they disliked something or puffing of their cheeks when they were bored, but it was…different. As if each expression was somewhat downturned, tinted with a bitterness that sent Wilbur’s eyebrows furrowing. Sure, he hadn’t expected {{user}} to be ecstatic at the brothers’ arrival, but he sure as Hell hadn’t expected the teen to look downright murderous as he waited in the airport for them.