Chapter Text
When they didn’t hear from her the next day, they didn’t even realise.
When they didn’t hear from her the day after that, they didn’t mention it.
When they didn’t hear from her for the rest of the week, they weren’t worried. It wasn’t like she hadn’t gone a couple of lengths without showing up before, after all - this would probably just be another one of those occasions where she reappeared without an explanation, and the rest of them smiled and welcomed her back, and everything continued much the same.
When they hadn’t heard from her for eleven days, Techno approached Wilbur in the middle of a cloudy afternoon.
“Hey, Will?”
“What’s up?”
“Do you think Cicada’s alright?”
“Yeah? I mean - I wouldn’t be able to say, I haven’t seen her in a couple of weeks, but I assume so. What, are you worried she’s… I don’t know, got caught up in something? We’d have seen it on the news if she’d been arrested, surely.”
“Sure. Sure, it’d - you’re right, it’d be news. I just -” he sighed, cut himself off. “I don’t know. I have a bad feeling.”
“Just, like, endemically?”
“No, there’s -” Techno wrung his hands and took a fidgeting step closer to Wilbur. “You know they hit her, in the fight?”
“Yeah. Yeah, of course, and you healed her afterwards. If anything did happen, then it’s not your fault, Techno.”
“Right, but - but she - I’m just - you know how the glamours don’t work on her?”
“Hmm?”
“Or did Niki never tell you?”
“I’m not familiar, no. What d’you mean, the glamours don’t work? They definitely work, or the news would have figured her out on day one -”
“No, not on her like that, on - and the bee stings. Ranboo told me they were hanging out one time, and she made Tubbo give her a bee sting, and it did nothing. She can’t see the glamours the same way the rest of us can. I’d wager she’s not affected by your voice throwing either, even if she never told us. I’m - what if the healing didn’t work either, and she just didn’t say anything?”
“What do you mean,” Wilbur frowned, already starting to piece it together a little too clearly for his own comfort. “Of course it would have worked. It’s not like you were - were undercharged, or anything, were you?”
“I was fine. I’m worried about Clem. I’m worried she was immune.”
“It’s okay,” he insisted, and patted Techno on the shoulder, and walked away. That didn’t help to quiet the newly planted seed of concern in his mind, though.
When they hadn’t heard from her in two and a half weeks, Wilbur was about to leave the house before realising he’d just stepped on a letter.
He stumbled back, and picked it up, and examined it - it was made out to him, no address, no last name, no stamp, just “Wilbur” in a stranger’s hand on a plain white envelope. Nothing but junk flyers ever came through their letterbox. He turned it over and found it not even sealed properly, the flap just tucked into the slot on the end, the adhesive left unlicked, if it made any sense to phrase it like that.
Inside was a piece of paper and another, smaller envelope.
To Wilbur -
I have no idea who you are, but Tom told me that when it’s all over this was the person to send this letter to, and you were the person to address it to. If you’re the place he’s been going all summer, thank you for keeping him happy. Otherwise, I have no idea what importance you have, but it must have been enough, so thank you for being there in the first place. He’s told us not to stick around and talk to you, so I suppose we must respect those wishes, but I wish you all the best, whoever you might be.
It wasn’t signed. Wilbur wondered, for a moment, if this author had the wrong house, the wrong idea, the wrong Wilbur, somehow - but how could there be another Wilbur to write to so close by? It had to be for him. He pulled the second envelope out, and realised that it was covered in a range of butterfly and beetle stickers. So it really was for him - for all of them, surely? (Maybe just for Phil and Niki - but it was addressed to Wilbur - and how easy could it be to find a sticker of a leech, anyway -)
He ripped it open; if it really did belong to someone else, he could hand it over when they came knocking for it. And if it was for the Swarm…
Hey, Wilbur, read scratchy handwriting he didn’t exactly recognise, but could place in an instant, and the rest of you as well, but I didn’t want to tell my mum about everyone, so I just went for Wilbur, what are you gonna do about it?
If you’re reading this, I’m not coming back. Like, nothing you can do about it not coming back, and you can probably guess why. Sorry about that. I would have told you lot if I didn’t think it was going to bring the mood down, you know? I just wanted to spend the last summer I was gonna get having fun and kicking arse and fucking around. You know I never got to scream before I started hanging out with you guys? It was too dangerous. Plus my mum and dad were hard up enough with how loud I was as a baby, let alone when I manifested. Wouldn’t have wanted to upset them like that. Never told them I could. That’s how they didn’t know it was me in the news and all. They mentioned the blonde girl but they never connected it to me. I suppose I’m lucky for being a cicada, I’m not the only one in the city, Ranboo would be a bit harder to hide from people.
Sorry this is all a bit of a ramble, I don’t know what to write really. I guess I should explain why I’m gone. Don’t worry, it’s not cancer, I just have the shittiest immune system known to man and back in April round about when I turned 17 the doctors told me I had about a year left on the clock so I made a deal with my mum and dad that they wouldn’t ask questions if I went out on my own. I knew they would never agree to “I’m going to go do crimes for fun and you’re going to let me because I’m gonna die soon” you get me? Something vague was the best way. That’s why the letter’s not signed, sorry. I hope you like the stickers. Pound fifty at Wilko if you want some.
Anyway the point is that it’s gonna be over a lot sooner than I wanted it to be and let me be clear that’s not anybody’s fault. It was my fault to get stabbed really, I should know how to dodge a knife by now, I’ve been sparring with Tubbo for long enough. I know I told Techno that he’d sorted it out but I just didn’t want to make him feel like a failure you know? Turns out the whole being bigger and more poggers than anybody elses powers thing applies to those powers too and it’s definitely just me being stupid that I didn’t realise that and think to say something before it all went wrong. Anyway the wound healed alright but I got an infection and it spread to my blood and I’m on my way out now. So not long to go. Fuckin hurts if you wanted to know. Don’t feel bad though it was my stupid mistake and it’s my punishment for it.
I just wanted to let you all know that I love you and I hope you’re gonna miss me as much as I miss you. Sorry if I start crying and it fucks up the ink I’m having a bit of a little bitch moment. And I also wanted to say thank you guys for giving me the best summer of my life.
So that’s it really. Bye. Good luck with the rest of your lives. I’ll be reading the news for you for as long as I can, so I hope you do something cool. Best of luck lads.
Clem
Wilbur folded the paper back up, slid it back into its source, and wiped away the tear that splashed on to one of the stickers before it could seep into the fibres of the envelope. Then he turned around and headed back downstairs, distantly hoping that he’d find Phil first.
Thank you guys for giving me the best summer of my life, she’d said. And her mother had written he.
They really had, then.
And that, Wilbur reckoned, was all that he could really ask for in this situation.