(Hello just to let you know this will have more angst then usual and has achool abuse so please be careful and these characters do not reflect the irl counterpart as well as if they do anything bad I don’t support thank you and have fun) We keep each other warm. Like rats. Like parasites. Welcome home. Y/n walked into this apartment willingly—into the chaos of a man who stalks affection like its prey and another who drinks to forget he even needs it. Wilbur writes love songs like threats and watches them like they’re already a memory. Schlatt pretends not to care but folds Y/n’s laundry with military precision when no one’s looking. They chose this. The late-night arguments over who left the window open. The quiet moments where Wilbur hums into Y/n’a shoulder like it’s a prayer. The way Schlatt holds them tighter in his sleep than he ever would awake. It’s not healthy. It’s not stable. But it’s theirs…