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When Wilbur was just a kid; around ten or so, he could never fall asleep by himself.
He either needed one of his brothers with him, or Phil. The boy could never get himself to fall asleep by himself due to the high amount of nightmares that followed him. There would never be a person to understand why he had these nightmares, but just someone being there made them calm down.
A coping mechanism he had taken up was to play his guitar. He had never really taken any interest until the nightmares became more and more frequent. That was the only good thing about having them, that he had found his passion. Either way, he probably would have got bored some day and ended up trying some sort of instrument out anyway. So in fact he decides there's nothing good about the things that hide in his mind.
However, Wil hated seeming needy and like he was doing it for the sake of attention. He would never want Phil to think of him like that, it would probably be his worst real-life nightmare.
But he's not like that, not Wilbur Soot. He's as brave as Icarus, as strong as Zeus and as independent as Artemis. He'd learnt all of those from his brother, Technoblade, who was a strong believer of Greek Mythology. Wilbur never asked why, he just liked listening and learning. In fact, their name for Tommy was Theseus. He liked that name.
So tonight, he would sleep alone. He wouldn't ask for someone to come in his room with him, this is his time to do something for himself.
His whole 'as independent as[...]' didn't last.
He ended up barley closing his eyes until the late hours of the evening, and on the occasion he did close his eyes, the nightmares found him again.
"Phil?" Wil called out, walking around the camp. It was very dark at this time of night and he normally lost track of where Phil slept. He spun around, looking everywhere he could, "Phil!" He shouted.
He remembered a time when he could sleep peacefully. It was when he was a toddler, his mother would cuddle him close and sing him sweet songs of knights and princesses, and whatever else she could think of. After he had grown, Wilbur had never slept again.
"Dad!" He called for a final time.
Wilbur looked around when he heard rustling, Phil had bolted out of his room in a white shirt and boxers, slowing down when he noticed there weren't any threats nearby. "What's wrong, bud?" He asked, kneeling down on one knee so he was around the same height as his son, "Another nightmare?"
"Nuh-uh." Wilbur shook his head, with glassy eyes, threatening to overflow.
Phil frowned, it was blatantly obvious that the child had a nightmare, but Phil didn't feel the need to bring it up in the moment. He stood up and ruffled the boy's hair, resulting with Wil swatting his hand away before grabbing the bottom of Phil's sleeve.
"I'm not leaving, mate." The boy continued to hold it tightly, rubbing his eyes in the process, sniffling, "Come on, let's go to your room."
"I don't wanna." Wilbur pouted, standing in place.
"My room?"
The kid shrugged, letting Phil pick him up and carry him gently inside.
When they were sat down, Phil sat up against the headboard, letting Wilbur sit on his lap and sniffle and cry into his chest.
"You wanna tell me about it?"
"No." He replied bluntly, breathing heavily against his father's shirt, gripping the fabric in his little hands.
The older rubbed circles on his kid's back, what should he say? He's dealt with this enough, he should know by now. Maybe they needed to see someone, maybe they needed a doctor. In fact Phil had heard of a therapist not too far away, Puffy her name is. Or at least he thinks it is.
"You sure?" He didn't want to push Wil, but he was genuinely intrigued- well maybe intrigued wasn't the right word, but concerned and ready to listen, nevertheless.
"It's always the same." Phil stayed silent, "They just want my blood...they can't have it! I- I don't want them to take me, Dad."
"They won't take you, they never will. They just want to scare you, but you're far too brave for them!"
Wilbur giggled a little, "I guess I am pretty brave."
" 'Course you are!"
The boy smiled lightly with his head against his father's chest.
"They're so weird."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I can only see their little red eyes, the rest is just a figure." He sighed, stretching himself out a little.
"We'll do something to make them go away, I don't know what yet, but I'll help you every step of the way." He gently cupped Wil's cheek with his hand, "Okay?"
"Okay, dad."
"For now though, you need some sleep."
"Alright." The boy groaned.
"How about I sing you a song?"
"Yeah!" He exclaimed in a tired manner.
"Run boy run. This world is not made for you
Run boy run. They're trying to catch you-
Run boy run. Running is a victory
Run boy run. Beauty lays behind the hills-
Run boy run. The sun will be guiding you
Run boy run. They're dying to stop you"
This had to be about him, it was obvious if he thought back on it now. Some weird, fucked foreshadowing.
By the time the song had finished, Wil had fallen limp against his father, sound asleep. Phil sighed, gently laying himself down in a more comfortable way. Wilbur sleeping by his right side, hugging the arm the was wrapped around him.
Maybe tonight would be a good night, maybe his son wouldn't wake up another time in the now morning. That would be good.
He can't remember a time when Wilbur hadn't woke up in the night, either crying or shaking. His son shouldn't have to go through this, a child his age shouldn't have bags under his eyes that look makes him look a little like a zombie.
The man ran a hand through Wil's hair, kissing his forehead.
"What am I going to do with you?"
Eventually, Phil closed his eyes and drifted off into a peaceful sleep.
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Even when Wilbur grew older, he could never get to sleep properly. Maybe that's what drove him to insanity. He had enough time to think about it now in Limbo.
"Whenever I'm here, I'm reminded of the song scribbled on the walls." He spoke out loud to himself, gently running his hand over the writings he had written in a what must've been psychotic episode. "You know, there once was a special place. There was a special place." The man started speaking the lyrics of the song, letting his hands tap a slow beat against his thighs, "Where men could go and emancipate, you know... there definitely was that special place did exist once. It did- it did." He wiped a hand across his face, sweat beading at his temples, "But even- I- even with Tubbo in charge... I don't think it can exist again."
That was a pretty hard thing to say. He didn't know why, but it hurt.
Now Wilbur says he wasn't crazy, he convinced himself he was just stressed. Stress leads people to do a lot of bad things. However it would have to take a hell of a lot of stress to drive him to this point. Blowing up his L'Manburg. It would never be Manburg. If he somehow lives after this rigged trap, he fucking made sure it would kill him off, he lost sleep (not that he got any either way), making sure it would blow him up as well. But if he does live after, and somehow people can still stand to look at him, he's going to ask and beg and plead for it to be called L'Manburg again.
"I don't think it can exist again." He repeated. "So..." He hovered his shaking over the wooded button. "The button's right there." He paused, "This is- if I'm ever gonna press it, it's now, and the thing that I made this nation for, doesn't exist anymore !" He shouted, stepping away from the button to pace. He needed to be sure, it had to be the right time. "The- the thing I worked towards doesn't exist anymore!" The man frustratedly put a hand through his hair, "It's over." He returned to the button, he's going to press down in three, two, o-"
"What are you doing?"
Wilbur's heart skipped a beat. He felt like when he was a kid being caught doing something stupid, "Phil?"
"What are you doing?" The man repeated calmly.
"Phil, where a-are you?" He called out, turning to face the door. The older wasn't there.
"I'm coming to where you are, right now." His father said over the coms.
"Wait- what? How? You- this is private land."
"I'm sneaking in."
"What do you mean you're 'sneaking in' ?" Wil said with a stifled laugh, "Do I need to come get you from the borderlands?"
"It's taking me a while..."
Wilbur's heart started beating again, or at least it felt like it only just started again, "I'm not- I wasn't doing anything. We just made Tubbo president!" He smiled nervously, "We um, we made Tubbo president- we made him president and we won! We won the war, Schlatt's gone, Schlatt's gone, Phil." The son rambled.
"Uh huh," He nodded as Wilbur continued to babble on, "So you are where exactly now?"
"In L'Manburg," It took the man longer than he wished to to get the country's name out, "In the area, you wouldn't know. I don't think you've been here, but it's the area on L'Manburg- it's complicated... it's ge- geography and that!"
Why the fuck did he say that?
"You know it's- it's-" He took a deep intake of breath, "It's geography and stuff and-" Fireworks shot off around him, making him lightly jump. His head snapped around to the entrance, breath getting caught in his throat.
"Mhm." Phil stood in the thin hallway, arms crossed.
The disappointed look in his father's eyes tore him apart. Although Wilbur was taller and now an adult, his Dad's stare made him feel like little anxiety-riddled Wil again, "Uhm."
"Yeah. It's 'in L'manburg' you said."
"The- this is L'Manburg." Phil walked over to him, standing closer but allowing distance, "Okay, I will admit... this does look bad, but um- do you know what this button is?" He might as well carry on, his father is here now. He's going to do it whether he's here or not, it might just be harder this way.
"Uh huh, I do."
He took a breath again, "Have you heard the- the song on the walls before? Have you heard the song?" Phil looked like he was going to say something, but he carried on anyway, "I was just saying to myself, I made this big point an it was poignant, and it was the- there was a special place where men could go, but there's not anymore, you know? It's not-"
"It is there." The man kept his voice soft and calm so he could try and calm down his shaking son, "You've just- you've just won it back, Wil."
"Phil, I'm always so close to pressing this button!" He shouted, grabbing at his hair, breath shuddering, "I have been- I have been here like seven or eight times, I have been here seven or eight times!"
The father sighed, reaching out to Wil who just walked away, either ignoring or completely missing the act of comfort.
"Oh they're gonna come and- ugh, I need to block this off." Quickly, Wilbur blocked off the entrance with some spare blackstone he had on him, "I don't want them in here- I don't want them in here."
Phil rubbed his neck nervously, he never thought it would come to this.
The father imagined Technoblade doing something like this, mass murder, genocide, whatever cruel thing he felt like. He wouldn't imagine Tommy doing something like this, but he expected him to do something mischievous that leads to something big by accident. Wilbur however, his sweet musician, to think of him doing something like this was like imagining that pigs can fly. Is that how long it has been without seeing his boy? Why didn't someone tell him that his son was struggling sooner?
"Phil, I've been here so many times- they're fighting, they're fighting!" Wilbur exclaimed incredulously, with a hard to read expression on his face. Phil put a hand on his shoulder.
"And you just want to blow it up?" Phil was dreading the answer.
His son took a deep breath, "I do. I think."
"You fought so hard to get this land back, so hard."
Tears pooled in Wil's eyes, "I don't even know if it works anymore, Phil. I don't even know if the button works, I could-" For a minute Phil swore he sore red in his son's eyes. Pure insanity and revenge. "I could press it and it might..." His eyes darted frantically between his hand and the button.
"Do you really want to take that risk? There is a lot of TNT potentially connected to that button."
Wilbur stared at him, "There was a saying, Phil. Can these bloody fireworks shut up?- Ugh, Phil, there was a saying, uh, by a traitor, uh- once part of L'Manburg." Worry and doubt pooled in Philza's stomach, "A traitor, I don't know if you've heard of Eret."
"Yeah?"
"He had a saying, Phil." Wilbur turned to face the button, eyes swimming with crimson hints. A small smile appeared on his face, not mixing well with the tears that fell out of his eyes, "It was never meant to be."
The button was pushed by a shaking hand, Phil's eyes widened, "Oh my God. You didn't-"
Explosions wracked through the country, shaking the floor. Wilbur raised his arms, opening them wide, bracing what was about to happen. Ever the dramatist.
As soon as the stone was broken, Phil jumped into action, rushing to his son protecting him. He surrounded him in a hug, Wil shook his head, muffled shouts just about hitting his father's ears.
He was supposed to fucking die.
"Oh my God!" Phil shouted, standing up, letting his son go gently and walking to the edge of the newly made cliff. His wing was bent, he let it spread, groaning in uncomfort. Ash covered his form, he shook slightly, letting some of it fall off of him.
His son followed in suit, face gray from the ash, tear tracks letting his pale skin show through.
"Wil, it's all gone!" He looked at his son who just carried on staring straight ahead. He noticed a spot of blood by his head, slowly cascading down his temple, to his cheek.
"Ah, my L'Manburg, Phil! My unfinished symphony, forever unfinished!" He exclaimed, his eyes red. He took a deep breath of what looked like relief, taking in the smell of fire, the look of absolute destruction, even the the taste of ash, "If I can't have this, no one can, Phil!"
"Oh my God." Phil repeated in disbelief.
"Kill me, Phil. Phil, kill me." A crazed and anxious look was in Wilbur's eyes as he threw an enchanted diamond sword onto the floor, "Phil, kill me."
Phil's heart dropped, he can't- he cannot kill his son. "What? "
"Phil, stab me with the sword, murder me now. Kill- kill me now, Kilza!" He raised his voice with an empty laugh.
"Kilza!" He repeated, it was the wrong time for jokes, but he was glad that he could still see that tiny bit of his son remaining. "Do it. Kill me, Phil. Murder me- look they all want you too!"
In front of the two, the remaining members of L'Manburg had paused any running and had joined to look across the krator to their ex-leader.
"Do it, Phil. Kill me." Wil clenched his fists.
He had never seen Wilbur this desperate, if he didn't do this, he was sure Wil would off himself anyway.
"You're my son!" The father shouted back.
"Phil, kill me."
"No matter what you do, no matter what you've done, I can't-"
"Phil, this isn't- it's, look, look! " Phil glanced to the side, not wanting to see it anymore. "How much work went into this and now it's gone."
The father looked at all of the citizens, "Do it."
"Do it-" Wilbur's words stopped short as he felt an agonising, burning pain through his stomach. Tears filled his eyes as he looked down and the blood-covered sword being pulled out of his torso.
When he heard all-too-familiar screams from far away, he knew he wasn't dreaming.
"D-Dad." He whispered, his knees buckled, legs giving up on him. Phil was quick to catch him though, holding him tightly on his way down.
“God, you couldn’t just let- you couldn’t just win, you had to just throw your toys out the pram.” Phil managed out, tears angrily falling down his cheeks, though his voice didn't give it away.
A strained voice was heard from Phil's shoulder, "M' sorry- so fuckin' sorry."
"Wilbur it's okay-" He tried to calm the dying man down, as horrific as it is, he didn't want is son to feel angry or scared on his way out.
"No." Wil strained, " S' not okay!" He shouted, ending up coughing blood painfully. He turned his head as much as he could and spat it out, it dribbled down his chin regardless of his efforts. "I-I should've just stopped... I shouldn't have-" The man sobbed, whimpering as he felt his organs failing him, limbs numb. Phil hugged him tighter, letting his head rest on Wilbur's, "Dad m' scared."
Phil's breath caught in his throat, he coughed lightly, "It's okay, Wil. I-I'm here with you. I'm not leaving you, sweetheart."
"C-Can you sing me t-that s'ng as I go?" He asked, tightening his grip on his dad's arms.
"Of course," He agreed, managing a smile. Wilbur had to see something positive as he left, and if a smile was the only thing he could give his son, then that was enough.
"Tomorrow is another day
And when the night fades away"
Wilbur closed his eyes, any strength he previously had fading away.
"You'll be a man, boy!
But for now it's time to run, it's time to run!"
He had ran for a final time.