Chapter Text
tw// suicide by creeper in first section
The death was quick. “As long as I can’t be the next Schlatt, you can’t be the next Wilbur.” Yeah bullshit. The ONE time he put his discs over L’Manberg, the ONE time he put himself over everyone else, is the ONE time he fucked up. Tommy was so unbelievably furious, betrayed, hurt and sad. At least Ghostbur followed, right? At least he still had the Ghost of his big brother with him, right?
He can’t help but be suspicious of Ghostbur. In life, Wilbur had gone batshit and gone off insane at him. His mental health was probably a big contributing factor, wasn’t it? But still...... Tommy didn’t want to doubt, he didn’t want to worry, he just wanted to kind of be like Ghostbur, forgetting the bad bits and only remembering the good bits. Nether, he missed being innocent sometimes.
He tapped a green, armless beast on the shoulder. And a satisfied smile tugged at his lips as it flashed white, and he barely registered Ghostbur’s concerned shouts as the Ghost desperately fought his way closer to the boy, who was broken and battered beyond repair.
It was quick and relatively painless. Just as he liked it.
---
The next time Tommy opened his eyes, there were gaps in his memories. The earliest thing he could recall was...... Abandoned by a couple? He was young? And left to die? Someone came to pick him up, was it Phil? His memory fizzes out shortly after that, with only occasional bits which were fuzzy, then suddenly he’s fifteen. SMPEarth? Random bits of memories strewn across, but none of it was too bad, mostly embarrassment or something similar. The Treaty of the Pit. Then he was sixteen and DreamSMP? Someone taking away discs? Memories were a lot more frequent in DreamSMP?
He stared at his hands, which seemed grey. It was definitely not supposed to be grey. He also felt awfully light. Hey...... Wasn’t Ghostbur grey? His memories concerning Ghostbur were fuzzy, but he was there in the background sometimes. Speaking of who, was sitting by Tommy. Or Ghost-Tommy? Did he become a Ghost? Why can’t he remember dying, then?
Wilbur - Ghostbur - didn’t know what to think. One moment Tommy was there, the next he’s dead and a Ghost, like him. But the little moments when Tommy was just dead. He was scared, and sad, and mad at L’Manberg for exiling him. Tommy was still his little brother, he remembered Tommy a lot, the playful bullying and teasing. Ghostbur wondered if something happened to Tommy, and that’s why Alive-Wilbur wanted to blow L’Manberg up ḽ̸̩̊i̸͓̋̚k̴͓̈e̷̡̛̒ ̵̝̽͋h̴̯͊̈e̵͈͛̚ ̵͉̑ǩ̶̘͔ĩ̵̻̤̂n̸̙̰̈́d̷̖̅ ̸̡̞̍o̸̲͑f̶̡͔͐̋ ̴̯̿̚d̷̳̙͐ȯ̷͈̎͜ẻ̸̞̬̓s̸̲̈́͝ ̴̘̕n̵̖̉͝o̸͈̫͐́ẁ̵̼͔͆ .
Were these emotions the memories he was missing? If yes, and they hurt so bad, Ghostbur was glad he didn’t remember those bits (But why did he remember dying if he can’t remember bad things?).
“Tommy!” Ghostbur cheered, “You might be a little dead but you’re still a little live, as a ghost!” Tommy only scowled and flinched away, images of Alive-Wilbur going insane running through his mind, and Alive-Wilbur...... Dying? Right...... His Dad killed him. Even his own Dad betrayed him. Wait, but...... Right, Ghostbur being the product of Wilbur’s death. Trying to be all nice, after everything? Tommy felt bitter. He can’t remember much of Ghostbur after that.
“G-Get away!” He stumbled backwards, tripping over something. He didn’t look. “Back off!” Ghostbur looked confused for a moment.
“You don’t remember?” He asked slowly, “The happy bits? The log? Log through the pain? I-I’m your big brother, remember?”
“Big brothers don’t fucking go insane, leave their little brothers to rot when they have fucking claustrophobia under some pistons and mock him! Big brothers don’t fucking blow up countries!” Tommy snaps. Ghostbur tilts his head. He didn’t remember any of that, but his head hurt as something about those words resonated within his mind.
“Y-You don’t remember happy bits?” Confusion and concern became apparent on Ghostbur’s expression.
“What do you mean happy bits?” Tommy spat, “Everything on this server is fucking shit. Everyone on this server is fucking shit .” Ghostbur froze, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Tommy was supposed to be happy. He was supposed to remember happy bits, not the bad bits. A selfish corner of his mind that wanted his memories to be whole thought it was good, they could compare notes! The less selfish part of his mind was hurting because his little brother forgot what it felt to be happy.
“R-Remember your music discs?” Ghostbur prompted, “You used to sit on the bench with Tubbo listening to them for hours. B-Before the revolution and after the Disc War. Remember?” Ghost-Tommy froze, before shaking his head.
“No,” Tommy shook his head, “I think that did happen though. You’re too awfully cheerful.” The boy looked away, slight envy settling in. He remembered Ghostbur could only remember good bits when he was annoyed at him for being so insufferably happy all the time. And he’ll admit it, he hated it because Alive-Wilbur would never act that way, and Alive-Tommy missed him. Ghost-Tommy not so much anymore, he can’t remember nice Alive-Wilbur bits.
“I want to go back though,” Tommy mumbled, “I want to remember the good bits. I hate this-” A pair of ghostly hands wrapped around the boy, offering comfort and one of the first tastes of warmth and joy and relief the Ghost felt in his time after death. He decided he liked this feeling.
“Dream took us really far,” Ghostbur ruffled Ghost-Tommy’s hair, which now lost most of its color and is just pale yellow, “It’ll be a while.”
“I hope it’s fuckin worth it,” Tommy grumbled, “But I’m a ghost now and I have forever to waste.”
---
Tubbo froze the moment he saw a familiar figure sitting on the edge of one of L’Manberg’s bridges connecting house to house. His feet were dangling above the crater and he was staring listlessly into them, the lanterns being the only thing lighting the area up. He looked a lot like Tommy, but wasn’t he in exile?
That thought made Tubbo’s head hurt. He knew he had to exile Tommy, it was for the better of L’Manberg, but it had hurt so bad. He wanted to apologize. He was running before he knew it, then stopped short the moment he got close. Something was wrong, and it wasn’t just because Tommy was quiet.
Tommy was grey.
Grey...... Like Ghostbur. Grey...... Like a ghost. The only color on him was the tint of yellow in his hair that seemed to be fading slowly more and more to white by the second, and the red stroke on his shirt and his beige pants. Now that Tubbo could see clearer, he could tell that Tommy was translucent. He could see through his best friend. That could only really mean...... That he sentenced his best friend to die in exile.
He took a tentative step closer, and Tommy snapped his head towards him. His eyes were still blue, but they were blank and- and lifeless. Despite that, they still bore emotion, and Tubbo knew he could never forget the pure hatred that swam within those eyes. Nor the way Ghost-Tommy stormed towards him to push him back when he tried to step closer, and the way anger lined his every action.
“Tommy, I-” Tubbo began, but was swiftly cut off.
“What do you want?” Tommy scowled. A stray thought flicked across Tubbo’s mind. Didn’t Ghostbur forget the bad things? But why did Ghost Tommy seem to remember every bad bit...?
“Do you...... Remember the bad bits?” Tubbo asked, that was probably a bad question, in hindsight.
“ Every single one, ” Tommy hissed, “I know we probably had good bits, but it’s pretty fucking hard to imagine with what I remember.” His fists were balled and his voice was slowly gaining volume. “Oh yeah, great fucking idea, ain’t it? Exile me with nothing, exile me and hand me off to someone who would take away all my fucking belongings, exile me and hand me off to someone who’s had a history of cheating and expect things to turn out as they should. Least you could do is to see if shit turns out the way you meant them to turn out! Or did you intend for me to die? I don’t even remember how I died!” He was shouting at the end of his speech, the ghost and boy both close to tears. The noise attracted attention as others began streaming out their houses from nearby.
“Tommy?!” Fundy was the first to respond, “Why are you all gre- oh.” Ghostbur floated closer, noting the crowd and winced a little. That sounds like the Tommy he knew, attracting a crowd, except this time it’s not for good or even funny reasons.
“Yeah, I’m fucking dead. Thank you all very much, ” Tommy spat, hands still tightly balled into fists. He’s practically radiating hatred, spite and anger at this point.
“I think something happened when he died,” Ghostbur piped up, “He can only remember bad bits, not like me!”
“Uh...... Do you remember me?” Ranboo tentatively spoke up. Tommy eyed him, and his aura of hatred died down a little as confusion settled in.
“Nope,” He tilted his head, “Are you new?” Ranboo wasn’t sure whether to be relieved he didn’t do anything hurtful to Tommy, or that one of his only friends on this SMP can’t remember him. Judging from Tommy’s expression, he guessed that the boy came to the conclusion that Ranboo was the only one who hadn’t betrayed him. Yet, a small voice at the back of Tommy’s head whispered, his wariness still not dropping.
Tommy could see the variety of reactions strewn throughout the crowd, more negative memories surfacing as he connected each of them to a specific one. Fundy: “It’s about the discs for YOU!” Phil: His own Dad thrusting a sword through Wil - his older brother - ‘s chest, the blue blade staining red. Tubbo: “Now he can’t breathe!” There were some faces he couldn’t connect to any memories, like a girl with dark hair and blonde fronts, and a boy with red and blue glasses. He could trust them, right? If he could only remember bad bits, if he can’t remember anything of someone, they’re good, right?
Most of them detailed regret and horror, like they didn’t mean for him to die. Well, he did anyway. He hated the gaps in his memories, he had a feeling that being happy felt good. Ghostbur gave him that much. They tried comparing notes, but apparently a lot didn’t line up due to the memories that stuck out for the two being different and sometimes belonging to when the two weren’t with each other.
“Just leave me alone,” Tommy mumbled, “Like you all did back when I was alive.” He walked off. Ghostbur glanced between the crowd of the living and Tommy, before deciding to hang around the younger Ghost who carried so much resentment for the living.