If you had asked me three months ago who my closest friends are I would've responded with George and probably only George.

But now I think I can add Wilbur to the list.

It's been a while since that first awkward call between us, but now we talk on the phone all the time. Sometimes it's while we do random tasks around our houses, and others it's just talking late into the night.

Right now we're both doing separate tasks. He's tuning his guitar while I attempt to make some bread.

"It's just cinnamon bread, Maia," Wilbur says after he stops strumming. "It shouldn't be that hard."

"I'm not the best cook, Wilbur." I say his name sourly. "You know this."

"I believe it's actually baking," he corrects while copying my tone.

"Shut up," I mumble as I wipe hair out of my face with my forearm.

"Besides, I've made bread before, it's not this hard."

"Mind your own business if you're not going to help." I pour some more cinnamon into the mixture. I feel like it should at least smell a little stronger since it's the whole flavor for the bread.

"How am I supposed to help?"

"Take a train to London, anything. I don't know." I meant the joke sarcastically, but I can sense the gears turning in his brain right now.

"You want me to go to London?" he asks.

It takes a solid moment for me to answer as I think it through. I do want to meet Wilbur in real life, but I never imagined it would be this spontaneous.

I'm honestly about to say yes, but he speaks before I can.

"Shit, actually I can't do that sorry. I have a recording session tomorrow. It's at that new place."

My heart sinks a bit. I try to roll it off my shoulders an actual normal. "Which one? You were looking at two."

"The one a little outside of Brighton. It's a longer drive, but I liked the owner a lot better." Wilbur explains with one strum of his guitar.

"It's only this one time though right? Just until the leak is fixed?" This was one of his many ranting points last night. I tried my best to listen, but he was talking fast with anger. I didn't want to interrupt.

"Mhm," he strums one more time. "I wish I could help you with your bread, though."

I glance at the bowl in front of me. Depending on how it turns out, I'm sure my brother will eat it tomorrow.

Tomorrow I'm dropping off some furniture of my Mum's to Max. We're meeting in between Brighton and London in Crawley for some lunch. It has to be quick, but I'll take any time I can get.

"My brother will eat it to be nice, but George probably won't touch it," I say.

"Is George going with you?" Wilbur asks, "To see your brother I mean."

"No he has to record with Dream tomorrow, but he probably wouldn't have gone either way. He's scared of Max."

"Scared?" Amusement floats in Wilbur's voice. "Is there a particular reason why?"

"Um," I look up at the ceiling as I recall the incident that caused George to avoid all interactions with my brother. "It was one day where my Mum was cleaning, so George and I couldn't hear the TV in my room. We closed the door to hear our show, and my brother walked in to check on us. He came in and jokingly yelled at us, but he was just messing around. Ever since that day. George has been scarred for life."

I don't even know why George would be scared. He's the same age as my brother Max, so they should really be the ones that are friends if you think about it.

"Were you doing anything?" Wilbur asks, meaning while we were in the room watching shows.

I almost laughed at the question. "You obviously didn't meet George in school, but no, George couldn't make a move on any girl to save his life. Besides, we're just friends."

"Tommy doesn't believe that." Wilbur chuckles as he tells his story. "He told me a couple days ago that he thinks you're secretly dating. Even dragged Dream into the call to see if he knew anything."

This time I do laugh at his statement. "Yeah, no we're just friends. I don't think George and I could ever be anything more than friends, and we both agree on that."

"Interesting." Wilbur sounds distracted by something now.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, but he's busy strumming his guitar lightly.

"Hey, what do you think of this?" he asks before playing a little tune.

And just like that, the subject is dropped. I listen to him play little snippets of possible songs while finishing my bread for the rest of the night.