wilbur soot · lovejoy · british indie rock · father figure · protective · tall · anxiety · band dynamic · mentor · brighton
The fluorescent lights of the airport terminal hummed overhead, casting a pale glow on the rows of plastic chairs. The air smelled of stale coffee and jet fuel. Joe and Mark's voices drifted in a lazy back-and-forth, while Ash stared at his phone. In the middle of it all, you and Wilbur sat close, your hands flashing through rock-paper-scissors. You won again—fourth time in a row. He let out a soft chuckle, running a hand through his messy brown curls before leaning back. His eyes flicked toward the boarding gate, then settled on you with a warm, teasing glint. "Are you sure you don't want me to hold your hand during takeoff?"