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“This is fine. It’s fine, it’s- i-it’s-” The words falling from his mouth felt nothing more than a strung together set of lies. Like ash in his mouth from all the explosives he’d set off, both physically and verbally. The weight of the message that he’d just sent settled heavy in his chest, choking up his insides and leaving his heart stabbing at itself painfully from the amount of worst-case scenarios running through his head.
It was no secret that the apologies that Wilbur had been giving as of recent have not resulted in anything particularly ‘good’, as they would say. Something bad happened, it seemed, every single time he went to talk to someone now.
The most recent one, god, the most recent-
He couldn’t think about that, he really couldn’t. It would make him run away from this last apology he had to give before he left. Before he left this place for good.
Even if he knew this, he really didn’t want to give it. Not because he didn’t think that they didn’t deserve an apology, no. It’s because he’s selfish. A little too much, in his own opinion, if he’s had this person by his side all this time and never given the apology they deserve.
It was Tommy, he was referring to.
Because fuck, who else would it be?
He’s been avoiding it for a long time, this apology.
He told himself that he didn’t really know why, but he knew that was a lie.
It was just- he was scared. There wasn’t a world in which Tommy would accept it, there was no way. And then- then he’d have to leave! He’d have to leave and know that Tommy wanted nothing else to do with him.
He really was that detestable, wasn’t he? If he could apologize and still watch that same person hate him so much that they’d jump off a fucking bridge-
Wilbur inhaled sharply, exhaling slowly to push the thought out of his mind.
Don’t think about that. Not right now, otherwise you’ll never get through this.
“Wil?”
Wilbur jolted, yelping slightly and swiveling around to face the person who had called out to him.
Tommy stood there, confusion lacing his expression with the added bonus of an amused smile. “You alright, man? What’d you need?”
Wilbur stared at him for a moment, running the words through his head for a second before fully recognizing what was being asked of him. “O-Oh! Oh, yeah I’m just- just thinking. I’m good. I’m… I’m good, Tommy.”
“If you say so,” Tommy hummed, the breeze ruffling his hair a little. “So? What’d you want?”
“Well- I just-” This was going too quickly for him. He didn’t want to say the words that would damn his fate. The words that would have Tommy staring at him in disgust and walking away without a word. “I wanted- I-”
Tommy’s expression shifted slightly, unreadable. And doesn’t that just make it worse? That he can’t tell what the expressions on his face mean anymore? “Wil?”
“I’m just-” Wilbur hesitated, swallowing down a lump in his throat. He knew this would be hard, that’s why he felt his heart hammering in his chest like it was trying to run away from the situation all together, but… he didn’t think it was going to be this difficult. He didn't think that the words would end up getting stuck in his throat and suffocate him this badly. It was almost like he was drowning in his own sorrow again, in the shallow waters of when he’d lost his second life, of when he had to watch Tommy lose two lives in the span of an hour, when he had to watch his son jump off a bridge just to get away from him-
“I just- I need a minute. I’m- it’s-” A rough cough left his throat sticky and congested, most likely remnants of the aftermath of the whole Fundy situation that happened recently. “It’s hard. It’s just hard. ”
Tommy regarded him for a moment, his face scrunching up in thought as his eyes squinted slightly. Wilbur wanted to hide away from that look. It almost felt like it was tearing apart his skin and peeling it away to look at the disgusting mess that was inside. He feared that if Tommy looked too long, maybe the younger would end up glaring at him and finally decide that Wilbur was too awful of a person to hang around to wait for an apology. Even with all this running through his mind, with what Wilbur thought would happen, Tommy’s expression would only end up softening as he gave the man a reassuring smile. “‘S fine, Wil. Don’t got much to do today anyways, so… take your time, I guess.”
There was an odd glint in Tommy’s eyes that had Wilbur staring for a little longer than usual. Something like… excitement? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t so sure anymore. His brain was too much of a mess of popping firework ashes to fully register how Tommy was looking at him. Too messy to fully consider what Tommy may be expecting of him.
Wilbur laughed slightly, forced but still at least a little genuine. “The child a bit lazy now, hm?”
Tommy’s expression immediately soured, but not quite in a bad way. There was still a hint of playfulness in his eyes. “Ey! I’m not a fucking child! Fuck you, bitch! I’ll stab the shit out of you!”
“Oh, really?” Wilbur grinned, but his mouth was trembling under the pressure of the situation he knew was coming very quickly. “You’re just a little man, a little baby man!”
“You- you are just- you are such a fucking prick. I bet that you-”
“-’oh look at my awful cobblestone tower, I’-”
“-style your hair with a prissy-ass comb in the mirror every day and- hey! Fuck you, my towers are so much better than your builds-”
“-I’ll have you know that at least I take the effort to make myself look presentable-”
“That is a fucking lie and we both know it-”
“Well you don’t have to say that out loud. And that’s coming from you! The child who lives in a dirt hovel in the middle of the server that you can’t even access because there’s obsidian all over it-”
“I’m not a child! ‘S not my fault some dickhead covered it in obsidian! Also fuck you my house is perfect! You don’t even own a house, you just live in Phil’s basement-”
“Fuck you, child!”
“Fuck you more, dickhead!”
“I’m beating you to death with a stick one of these days.”
“Not if I throw a rock through your skull!”
“Your little child arms have no way to-”
“Oh, fuck you! Fuck off,” Tommy huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “‘M not a child anymore, Wil.”
Wilbur hummed softly, the previous smile on his face falling off as the weight of the situation finally settled back in. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. How old are you now, actually? Aren’t you in your late twenties, early thirties or so?”
Tommy’s smile fell as well at the question, clearly realizing that their brief moment of banter was over. “Well- I mean-” He paused, his gaze shifting uneasily over Wilbur’s own expression as a way to gauge how he should answer. “That’s not… exactly it.”
“Then… how old are you?”
Tommy grimaced.
“Tommy.”
His gaze fell to the ground below them, his face scrunching up again, this time in discomfort.
“Tommy, how old are you?” Wilbur asked, more frantically this time around, his mind once again running along its sparks of ideas and scenarios that he couldn’t help but blow out of proportion. “It’s not- please tell me. Please.”
“Seventeen,” Tommy muttered, quietly. “Limbo is weird and shit. You said you were gone for thirteen years, but… it was something like six months here.”
“Six… months…?” Wilbur echoed, eyes widening in horror. “I- you- that’s not-”
“ I was dead for two days, apparently,” Tommy admitted. “Bit shit, innit?”
“T-Tommy, that’s-” He was still so young. It had to be untrue, it had to, it had to-
He can’t keep lying to himself like this. Just because he says it over and over it will never make it true. “I-I didn’t-” Wilbur’s words clogged in his throat. “I-I didn’t know.”
Tommy shrugged. “Not your fault. No one told you. I should have told you, sorry.”
Wilbur jerked violently at that, making Tommy raise an eyebrow in confusion. “You don’t- you don’t need to apologize for that, Tommy,” The words were tight in his throat. For whatever odd reason, he almost felt like crying. “It’s- it’s fine! It’s okay! I-I’m just- I- I-I-”
“Wil?”
“Just- give me a minute, I’m fine, I’m alright, just-” Wilbur placed a hand on his chest, his heart beating like a drum as his chest rose and fell rapidly. Things were getting way off track. He wanted to apologize, he was really trying to, but- but the words wouldn’t come out. He was asking too many questions that he felt as if he already knew the answers to. He was avoiding the inevitable, he knew it, he really did, but however long he could avoid it, drag this out as long as possible, he would. If it could let Tommy stay just a little bit longer-
Tommy took a step closer, concern outlining his expression. “Hey! Wil, listen, count backwards from ten! With me, okay?”
“I-I don’t need to do that, Tommy, I need to-” I need to apologize. “I need to-”
“You don’t need to do anything yet, dickhead. You need to fucking calm down,” Tommy huffed. “Alright, ready? Ten.”
“Tommy-”
“Nine.”
“Tommy, I really-”
“Eight-”
“Tommy this isn’t helping! ” Wilbur shouted, causing the other to flinch slightly and step back. “That’s- that’s just making it worse! I don’t need a countdown, I want to- I can’t do this, I really fucking-”
“Okay! Okay, it’s alright, just- we’ll try something else!” Tommy backtracked quickly, his hands curled out in front of him like he didn’t know what to do. “Just, uh- um… fuck, I don’t-”
“Why are you helping me?!” Wilbur spat, anger that sprouted from guilt building in his chest and causing his heart to beat painfully in his chest. “This doesn’t make any sense! Why are you trying to help me?! ”
“Because I’m fucking worried about you, Wilbur!” Tommy shot back. “This isn’t fucking normal, you know?! You're panicking, and I just- I don’t want you to!”
“Well I deserve it, don’t I?!” Wilbur huffed out a laugh. “You’ve seen the shit I’ve done! Don’t I deserve to feel some panic like I’ve caused for others?!”
“What the hell?” Tommy shook his head, his eyebrows furrowed in a way that just looked so concerned that it had Wilbur squirming in his own skin. He felt frozen under Tommy’s eyes, duller than they used to be but still so bright despite everything that’s happened. He couldn’t focus with Tommy looking at him like this. He couldn’t have Tommy looking at him like he hadn’t ruined the kid’s life. “Wil, I just-”
“Fuck, this isn’t-” He ran a hand through his hair, the curls spraying out in front of his eyes messily and hiding him away from Tommy’s gaze. “I can’t do this, I can’t, I can’t- don’t look at me!”
Tommy hesitated. “Wil-”
“Don’t look at me! ” Wilbur cried, shifting away and hiding from Tommy’s gaze. “I-I can’t do this if you’re looking at me like that! I can’t, I can’t- p-please, I can’t- I need to-”
“Okay, okay, Wil,” Wilbur saw Tommy take a step back. “Okay, I’m not- I’m not looking at you, Wil. I’m looking at the- fucking, grass. I'm not looking at you.”
Wilbur was shaking, ragged breaths sifting through his lungs that were shredded with smoke. His heart was still stabbing at him, making him grip at the fabric of his sweater over his chest in some futile attempt to get it to calm down and stop. He felt too hot, sweat adorning his forehead, almost like he was running a fever with how stressful this entire situation was.
His eyes stung, his throat was sticky with mucus, and he was wheezing on words that he desperately wanted to squeeze out of his chest.
He had no more time to wait.
This was it.
No more avoiding it.
Not like the last time, where he had waltzed off to Technoblade to avoid the apology.
Not like the other times, where he distracted them both with petty fights in Las Nevadas.
Not like every time, where he was just a selfish asshole who could never let Tommy go.
“I’m-” Wilbur coughed again, tears peeking out from the edges of his eyes. “I-I’m-”
He shuddered.
Please just say the words, I’m begging at this point.
Please.
Please.
His stomach was rolling on itself, making him curl up on himself and place a hand over his mouth. The soft fabric of his sweater was digging into his hand and leaving an imprint of the pattern of woven fibers into his fingers with how tight he was gripping at it. It felt like his vision was shaking, his eyes were burning and so were his lungs, catching on breath and leaving him desperately swallowing down the acid that was trying to claw its way out of his system.
“Take your time, Wil,” Tommy offered, softly. “I can wait.”
And wasn’t that just the nail in the coffin of the emotions that were shredding him from the inside out?
It hurt, hearing that, for multiple reasons.
That Tommy was being so patient with him, despite the fact that he was such a detestable human being. That Tommy could be kind enough to treat him like this, despite all he had done to the kid. Despite it all, Tommy was still trying so hard for him and it was- it was-
“ Fuck- ” Wilbur wheezed, stumbling slightly as he pulled at his curls with the hand that had previously been covering his mouth. “Fuck, fuck I-I’m-”
He can't do this. He can’t do this, he can’t do this!
He couldn’t watch Tommy walk away. He couldn’t watch the concern shift to disgust and anger.
He couldn’t see what lengths Tommy would go to in an attempt to get away from him-
But that was just selfish, wasn’t it?
Tommy deserved something from him. He deserved an apology. He deserved it all. He deserved everything that Wilbur had ever had and even more than the man could possibly give him in a lifetime.
He had to, he had to get the words out now. He had to do it now.
Now, now, now!
Do it now!
“I-I’m-”
Spit it out!
"I'm-"
Say it!
“I’m sorry! ”
Silence fell.
The admittance of those words, shaking with so much vulnerability it almost felt like they would break from the smallest touch, ripped away the last bits of self-control Wilbur had. Tearing the words from his throat felt like raking a knife through his insides and leaving it all cut up like pretty ribbons of red.
Somehow, he felt worse.
Tears had started spilling from his eyes and down his cheeks, but he wasn’t finished.
There was still so much more to say.
“ I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I-I-” Wilbur sobbed, eyes squeezed shut to avoid any chance of looking at Tommy. Of seeing what possible expression could be on the boy’s face. He couldn’t handle anything that his mind was thinking of. “ I’m sorry for the wars, I-I’m sorry for- fuck, I’m sorry that I- I strung you along, I fucking ruined your life! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry- ”
“Wilbur,” Wilbur jerked, his breath faltering. He was hesitating, slowly sliding his eyes to glance up and chance a glance at Tommy’s face. “I know.”
It felt like his heart had stopped.
Tommy wasn’t angry at him. He didn’t look completely disgusted with his existence. In fact….
He looked happy.
Happy…?
“I’ve known for a while now,” Tommy let out a soft laugh, his lips bended in such a sweet soft smile that Wilbur couldn’t take his eyes off of it. “I know, Wil. I know you are.”
“You-” Wilbur choked, vaguely recognizing the wet tears pouring down his face. “What?”
“It took me a bit, maybe, to realize, but… that visit to Phil gave me a pretty good idea,” Tommy paused. “I’ll admit, maybe I was eavesdropping, but… I heard what Phil told you, and… and I saw how you avoided me after that.”
“That’s- I didn’t-”
“Wilbur, I know! Jeez, man,” Tommy huffed. “I know that you weren’t ignoring me because you didn’t think I deserved an apology. You just… didn’t want me to go.”
Wilbur felt far too out of place. He didn’t want to be here any more. He wanted to run, he wanted to hide.
He can’t have Tommy looking at him like this. So- so wrong. It’s all wrong, it’s just-
He can’t handle how Tommy was looking at him like he was relieved. He can’t have Tommy looking at him like he wasn’t some kind of disgusting undead monster. He can’t have this, he can’t, he can’t-
Tommy sighed. “Wil. It’s alright, man. I know what you want to say. I forgive you.”
“...What?” Wilbur finally stood up, blinking away the tears that were still caught in his eyes lashes. “No, you- you can’t-”
“It’s my choice, isn’t it?” Tommy cut him off, huffing softly. “Whether or not I forgive you? Whether or not you end up leaving? Because I don’t fucking want that, Wil. I don’t want you walking off to fuck all after this. I can’t-” He grimaced. “I can’t fucking do that shit again.”
“Tommy….”
“Because my life went to shit when you died,” Tommy muttered. “It went to fucking hell. So I’m not fucking having that happen again! You can die again when I’m fucking chained down in hell!”
“That’s- Tommy, I’m-”
“You know that L’manburg blew up again? It wasn’t even a war. It was just three dickheads going and blowing the place up to 'send a message',” Tommy hissed. “They just… showed up! They said they would show up at a specific time, but no! They fucking came early and blamed us for not preparing enough when the place got blow to bedrock!”
“No, I mean- wasn’t that me? That crater, it’s- it’s my fault, right?!”
“Maybe a little, but it wasn’t nearly that deep before. Not before Doomsday. Not before Dream. ”
“D-Dream…?” Wilbur echoed, a sudden chill overtaking him. That inclusion of the moniker of the person who had revived him was foreboding, for some reason. Something in his gut was burning with anticipation for something horrific. “What does- what about Dream?”
“The big obsidian grid was his doing. He set up TNT, and, well… it rained. It rained gunpowder and ashes.”
It was enough of a description to have Wilbur’s mind quickly filling in the gaps of what had happened that day.
There would be no time to put the TNT out, to douse it in water and keep it from destroying the place entirely. It would just be death raining from above. Destruction that was nearly impossible to prevent once it started.
It sounded-
It sounded horrific.
Like watching hell come raining down early.
Like it would be watching the world fall into pieces and being completely helpless as you would watch everything burn into nothing.
“So that wasn’t your fault. In fact, maybe it was my fault, technically.”
“No, Tommy, you didn’t- you didn’t do anything-”
“That’s what you say. You weren’t there, Wil. You don’t know what happened.”
I should. I really should have been there. I should know what happened.
But he wasn’t. He hadn’t been there, and he didn’t know what happened.
“Because I ended up betraying Technoblade, because I ran from- from Dream, from exile- ”
“Exile?” Wilbur’s heart rate was spiking again, but he didn’t know why. “What do you- what do you mean about exile? Pogtopia?”
“No,” Tommy muttered, his hands now curled over his stomach as he avoided Wilbur’s gaze. “Logsteshire.”
Logstedshire?
“I thought that was the place that you went on holiday with Ghostbur with. Like, ‘Lads on Tour’?”
Tommy didn’t respond, his face scrunching up in thought again.
Wilbur didn’t like the silence.
He really, really didn’t like how quiet Tommy was being. He never really did. It always felt too unnatural, it always felt like something was wrong when Tommy was quiet.
And something was very, very clearly wrong with whatever happened in this apparent ‘exile’.
“I can’t-” Tommy hesitated. “I can’t really explain it here. I need to… I need you to come with me.”
There wasn’t much arguing between the two of them, as Tommy walked away with Wilbur in tow this time around. With Tommy at the mantle and leading them away towards their nether hub and across the precariously crafted cobblestone and obsidian bridge over a lake of lava.
Tommy was completely silent over this time as they went, his eyes set on a nether portal that was tucked away and so hidden that it was difficult to know there was anything over there besides the fact there was a path leading over there.
Tommy stood in front of the portal when they arrived, breath rattling in his chest as he stared at the purple sparks flicking out towards him.
He was clearly nervous.
Wilbur didn’t know what to do about it.
He wasn’t strong enough for this. He wasn’t strong enough for Tommy.
Why did he forgive me? Why, why, why?
He doesn’t deserve it.
Tommy stepped through the portal.
Wilbur followed after.
It looked… normal, to say the least. From what he had of the memories from Ghostbur, this place matched perfectly.
The same sandy beach, the remnants of what looked like a beach party, Logstedshire itself-
He stopped.
There was a very obvious crater where he remembered Logstedshire was supposed to be. Logstedshire, a small house, that was supposed to be surrounded by sheared wood was completely missing. Just a hole in the ground with burnt charcoal, ashes, soot, and a hint of gunpowder was what replaced it. What remained of it, echoed in his head.
“Tommy? What- what happened to- there was a house there, there was, I know. What- what happened?”
Tommy blinked at it, slowly. Emotionless, almost, and that frightened Wilbur more than he could admit. “Dream.”
“Dre… Dream...?”
“Mhm,” Tommy sighed. “C’mon.” He started walking towards the dirt, a shovel in hand as they went. “Careful where you step. There’s a chance that you could fall into some holes.”
“What do you mean?”
Tommy hummed, mostly to himself, as he stopped at one point and placed his shovel into the ground. He barely pressed it into the ground when the dirt fell away almost immediately, giving way to a barely covered up hole that looked to have been caused by yet another explosion. The small searing of black over the exposed stone below was what made that obvious, but there was something a bit more concerning about the contents below.
There looks to be a charred outline of tools, perhaps maybe some armor, as the contents of the hole. Various miscellaneous materials were scattered around it as well, but they were all clearly destroyed from what looked to be TNT.
“There’s more,” Tommy started, walking away from the hole and digging into another one. Wilbur walked over to glance over his shoulder, seeing more of the exact same thing in this hole as well. “And another one,” Tommy would continue, digging into another one just a couple of feet away. “There’s more here, I know, but… I don’t remember. I don’t remember where they all are.”
“Tommy, that’s okay, it’s just- what- what are these?” Wilbur couldn’t help but feel the dread clawing across his insides. “Are these-”
“Those were my items. My things, my belongings,” Tommy let out a bitter laugh. “But Dream told me, every single day that he came here, to- to ‘throw them in the hole, Tommy’. And he would blow them up. Every day of my life while I was in exile.”
Tommy looked back over towards Logsteshire’s remains. “I tried to keep some things to myself. I tried to hide some of my items away, but… Dream found out, and…” He paused for a moment, taking a second to look at the crater for a little longer before turning back to Wilbur with a pained smile painted across his face. “Well, you can guess what happened there.”
The fireworks in Wilbur’s brain stopped.
There were no worse-case scenarios to think of when he was experiencing the worst-case scenario.
“One more thing, Wil,” Tommy’s breath shuddered on itself. He raised a hand up, pointing towards the sky behind him. “Look up.”
Wilbur didn’t want to know what Tommy was referring to. He didn’t want to turn around. He didn’t want to look up and see whatever last, horrific thing was in this place. “N-No, I-”
Tommy frowned. “Wilbur, please.”
“Just- hold on! Why were you- why were you exiled?”
“I didn’t know what to do. You died. Tubbo was busy. So I did what I do when I’m bored and stole some shit for fun,” Tommy snorted. “An accident happened, I burned a house down, and then Dream came along and had me exiled.”
“That’s- burning a house down? Isn’t that- isn’t that a bit extreme? People do that all the time and get away with it.”
“ Exactly! ” Tommy shouted, anger decorating his expression all of a sudden with vitriol so intense that Wilbur was shocked back into silence. “A-And- and no one visited! No one came to visit me! Just Dream! Only fucking Dream! He would- he would say these- these fucking things, like ‘oh, they all hate you Tommy! They don’t care about you! You deserve getting abused like this, because I’m your best friend, Tommy! I know what’s best for you, I know-’” Tommy choked on the words, shaking his head wildly. “‘I-I’m your friend, I’m your- I’m your only friend, Tommy, you- your-’”
Tommy grit his teeth, his eyes shining a little with unshed tears. “Fuck him, fuck you, Dream! Fuck off, you fucking- homeless green-ass prick! I fucking hate him, Wil! I hate- you- you called him your hero, Wil, I didn’t- I didn’t know what to fucking do when you said that! You had just come back, and I was- I was scared, I thought that you were- I thought you were going to break him out, and then- then he’d come after me and-”
“No, I- Tommy, I wouldn’t-” Wilbur hesitated, reaching out towards Tommy and gently placing his hands on the kid’s shoulders. They were shaking, rising up slightly with the small sniffles breaking from Tommy’s chest. Guilt was eating him up on the inside at the reminder of his previous behavior. He couldn't imagine how Tommy felt, couldn't imagine going through the pain of knowing that someone who you once considered you friend call the person you hated their 'hero'. He wished he'd never said that, if so to avoid the horror and pain that was destroying him internally at the revelation provided to him. To avoid the pain that Tommy had felt when Wilbur had returned from the dead with the words that practically worshipped the person that Tommy had despised. “I won’t, I won’t do anything with Dream, okay? I’ll- I’ll fucking kill him the next time I see him, I swear. I swear on my life, on- on every life I might have, I swear it, I swear.”
“You can’t promise me that when you want to fucking leave, Wil,” Tommy spat bitterly, angry tears sliding from his eyes. “‘M not a fucking idiot. Those apologies weren’t just an apology. They were fucking suicide notes.”
Wilbur felt his blood run cold.
“You-” Wilbur’s face twisted in sorrow. “You knew…?”
“I knew, Wil,” Tommy laughed, wet and choked up as he pressed Wilbur away from him and turned them both to face whatever he was pointing at before this breakdown happened. “I know a lot better than you think I do.” He pointed up, towards the sky once again, and Wilbur finally spotted what Tommy had wanted him to see. "I would know, at least... pretty well what it looks like when someone is that desperate to get away from everything."
Wilbur finally let himself follow Tommy's finger, his breath shaking as he looked up, up, up towards the sky.
It was a tower.
Built up with a hodgepodge of materials of dirt, stone, wood, and whatever else could be found around this area. It definitely wasn’t structurally sound, with how it seemed to slightly sway in the small wind and with the dirt and stone crumbling a little towards the mild of the tower.
There was no ladder attached to it.
It was too thin to be the base of a building.
It was too messy to be an attempt at making an actual build.
It was too tall to be a practical lookout.
It was too tall to be useful for anything, really.
This was something made in desperation, in quick succession to get something done quickly.
Wilbur felt every single thing in his body shatter into pieces.
The message was clear, now.
Tommy had tried to kill himself.
He had built up to the sky, to the heavens, and looked down at the world below with the thoughts of leaving this place behind entirely. To never return, to follow after Wilbur and join him in hell.
Tommy wanted to commit suicide.
Tommy had wanted to die.
“It was after Logstedshire blew up,” Tommy admitted, quietly. Far too quietly for Wilbur to be comfortable. “I didn’t know what to do. So I… I tried to- I tried-”
“T-Tommy-” Wilbur’s voice quivered, as he turned to look towards Tommy. Tommy didn’t look much better, his lip quaking as he blinked rapidly to get the tears out of his eyes. He was avoiding Wilbur's eyes, but the man couldn't blame him. “I-I- I didn’t know, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t want this for you, I didn’t- I’m sorry, I’m sorry- ”
Tommy laughed, but it was sad. So, so sad that Wilbur felt his heart shattering into little pieces in his chest. “Please don’t- please don't do something like this again. I don’t- I can’t go through this again, I can’t, I just- I can’t do this anymore, Wil! You can’t- you can’t leave me again! You just- you can’t! I won’t-” His voice broke, as he hunched over himself and his hands raised up to dig them into his own curls. “I won’t fucking let you, dickhead-”
“I’m not,” Wilbur tried, his voice shaking as he stepped forward and grabbed Tommy’s hands, dragging them away and cupping them into his own. “I’m not, I promise, I won’t. I won’t, I won’t. I’ll stay here, I’ll stay- I’ll stay right fucking here. I won’t, I won’t leave you, I promise, I promise I won't, I won’t- ”
“It’s so shit, ” Tommy spat, shaking his head again as he glanced up at Wilbur through the blonde hair that had swung over his eyes. “T-This is- this is so fucking awful. I just- I want a home, I want to be fucking happy! But I just- I can’t, can I? I never can, and it’s-”
“Tommy-”
“And neither can you! I- I saw what happened, I saw what happened with Fundy, and I- I don’t know how you feel, but fuck- I can’t- I can’t imagine that, I can’t- I ran, I didn’t come see you, I left you to grief like that, and I-”
“No, Tommy, T-Tommy, it’s alright, it’s okay, that’s- that’ snot your responsibility, it’s okay- ”
“I’m sorry, Wil, I just- I can’t- I heard some of that, and- and I’m fucking pissed! It’s- I know that Fundy has his issues, but he- he disowned you, back in Pogtopia, and he didn’t- he didn’t say anything, he just-”
“Tommy, Tommy, shh… hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, I know, but- but we don’t need to-”
“It’s not fair! ” Tommy cried, shoving forward and barreling into Wilbur’s chest. He tugged at the fabric, having Wilbur stumble on himself as he wrapped his arms around Tommy’s shoulders to keep him from sending the two falling to the floor. “None of it’s fair, it’s n-never fucking fair!”
“I know,” Wilbur squeezed Tommy just a bit closer, tucking the younger’s face into his shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s- it’s alright-”
“Fuck you,” Tommy hissed. “This wasn’t- it wasn’t supposed to go like this, I was- I was supposed to help you- ”
“You’ve done that enough, haven’t you?” Wilbur laughed softly, broken and barely there with the fact that there were still tears reappearing in his eyes. “You got me independence. You kept me alive as long as you could. Fuck, you were just you, Tommy. That’s- that’s all I could have asked for.”
A sob racked Tommy’s body, as Wilbur felt the fabric of his jacket twist a little more tightly into Tommy’s hands. “Fuck you, fuck you. I fucking- I-I-”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Tommy, I’m so fucking sorry… ” Wilbur’s throat closed, tight as he tried to swallow down the congestion building in his throat. “I didn’t want it to happen like this. I’m- I’m sorry I left, I’m sorry that I couldn’t help you, that I couldn’t protect you, I’m- I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry…. ”
Tommy tensed.
And he started wailing.
Wilbur was right there alongside him, his sobs ugly and choked up with snot, squeezing Tommy tightly into his arms as the other would shove forward and claw at Wilbur’s back to twist the fabric of the trench coat into his hands.
It felt so disgusting, with salty tears sliding down their faces and staining their clothing with large wet stains with snot alongside it. Shaking with the inherent intensity of the sobs, they would only cling onto each other harder out of some kind of fear of the other simply disappearing into thin air.
But really, this could be considered the best it could have gone, wasn’t it?
Tommy would rub his face into Wilbur's shoulder, a futile attempt to muffle the cries that were tearing his throat into pieces.
Wilbur may have sounded like he was dying, with how the sobs were cut up by hacking coughs and strangled sounds that barely sounded human.
Apologies fell out between them both. Some of them didn't even make sense, but it was all that was capable of falling past the cries piercing the air.
Tommy would start laughing, bright and cheery but still filled with bittersweet sorrow that Wilbur found himself picking up on just as quickly. "F-Fuck-" Tommy shook his head, more sniffles and hiccups breaking up the words trying to leave his mouth.
Wilbur shook his head as well, a genuine smile starting to draw itself across his face as he blinked away the last o his tears. "Fuck."
Tommy snorted, lifting his face with a similar blinding grin as he pulled back a little to look Wilbur in the eyes. There were still tears on his face, wet and sticky but he didn’t care. “Guess we really are like brothers, huh, Wilbur? Crying bitches and all.”
Wilbur would start laughing again, a smile upturned so bright with fondness it was like the tears on his face weren’t even real. “Y-Yeah. I guess it kinda is!”
“Can’t cry this time, you already did,” Tommy cackled, leaning back with an infectious grin. “Get outplayed, bitch. ”
“Oh, fuck you, child. ”
“I’m not going to be having this fucking argument with you right after what just happened.”
“Mm… so you are one then?”
“I’m killing you in your sleep.”
“But then you’ll be lonely, ” Wilbur teased, coughing a little as he flicked at Tommy’s forehead. “Can’t have big brother dying on you, can you?”
“Nevermind, I disown you immediately- ”
“You can’t, it’s too late! Legally binding verbal contract makes you my little brother.”
“Fine! I’ll just play the long game, then.”
“The long game? How so?”
“Not telling.”
“Okay, Tommy,” Wilbur grinned. “Okay.”
There was something unspoken underneath all of this. That when previously, when Tommy had said the same thing, Wilbur would always respond with ‘don’t say that, I’ll cry’. The fact that it was different, especially today, said something a little more.
Something that neither could quite place.
But, there really isn't anything wrong with that, was there? They had time.
They had a little more time, at the very least.
They could figure it out eventually.
They could figure it out together.