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schlatt closes his eyes as he drags himself down to the bottom of the ocean, smiling when he ghosts over sand and coral. he opens his eyes, watching as fish and manta rays fly past him, their tails wagging back and forth, their gills working to keep them alive. schlatt reaches up, touching his neck. he feels his own gills, shoulders slouching. gods don't need to breathe, he doesn't need to breathe, but it's a nice sentiment. although, he isn't as comfortable breathing underwater as he is on land. he has both lungs and gills, and every time he breathes in water, his lungs think that he's drowning.
schlatt could probably get rid of his lungs, but they're human. he misses being human.
being immortal really isn't all it is said to be. everyone whispered tales of godly hood, of godship and fortune. how immortality was the key to happiness, how eternal life was the best gift of them all. schlatt can't really blame the humans who think that for thinking it. he used to think that being immortal would be fun, that it would be amazing to spend an eternity with his best friend. schlatt sighs, holding out his hand. a fish gently presses its face against his palm, swimming around him a second later.
schlatt created them. he created every single creature in his ocean, and every single one of them knows him. they're sentient, and schlatt is thankful for that. when he didn't have wilbur, when he was nearly exiled from the rest of the gods, he had them. he had his fish and his manta rays, his sharks and his seals and his sea slugs. he watches as a manta ray, one that glows neon blue, swims past him, circling around him once, twice.
he knows that wilbur will be coming to visit him soon, and schlatt..he's started to look forwards to their impromptu vistations. schlatt knows that it was hard for wilbur to see him again - to be fair, it was hard for schlatt to see him. wilbur isn't the only one who got hurt in their friendship, and it was bullshit that he acted like he was.
schlatt died for wilbur.
he died, he put himself in front of the sword that was meant for his friend. he did it on purpose, he did it because wilbur deserved to live. he did it because wilbur was always better than he would ever be, and from a young age, schlatt had realised that. wilbur always had more potential, everyone always put him on a pedestal, overshadowing schlatt without a second thought. he used to resent everyone who did that, but he eventually came to understand.
schlatt agreed with them. he did everything he could to put wilbur in the spotlight, to get him ahead in life. everyone thought he was a terrible influence, that he was evil and wrong and a mistake, but they were all wrong, because he just wanted to help his friend. it was just because he had horns and yellow eyes, it was just because he looked different and wasn't the same as everyone else. maybe they were right, maybe he was evil and wrong. schlatt is evil and wrong now, he's a mistake and a scourge and a di-
"what are you thinking so hard about?"
he breathes out, feeling his chest still for a second. self-loathing thoughts swirl around in his head for a moment before they disappear, fizzling out at the sight of messy brown hair and soft brown eyes. "the past," schlatt tells wilbur, reaching out to touch the side of his neck. he feels power buzz at his fingertips, creating something entirely new. "there. you can breathe now." wilbur laughs, long and loud. it's so full of life and light and serenity and peace, and it makes schlatt smile.
"thank you, schlatt," wilbur smiles, sitting down, burying in his hands in the sand. "why is this.." he tilts his head, opening his mouth. he immediately snaps it shut, frowning. "i..this is weird," wilbur snorts. "it feels weird. to breathe water. but not really," he offers. "it feels like air. is that meant to happen? is that what it's like to breathe here?"
when wilbur became a god, he got rid of his lungs. he got rid of his lungs and the things that made him human. schlatt knows that being human was difficult for wilbur, he knows that he never wanted to be reminded of the things he lost when he allowed himself to become a god. "i can't breathe," schlatt tells him. "i kept my lungs. if i breathe down here, it feels like i'm drowning."
"oh," is all wilbur says. he's silent for a few moments, although they feel like centuries. time is unimportant when it comes to gods. "why did you keep them?"
"to feel human," he smiles. "i never really got that chance back when i still was human. ironic, huh?"
wilbur ducks his head, a small frown worming its way onto his face. "i'm sorry."
"don't be," schlatt laughs, letting his back hit the sand, staring up at the sun that shines through the ocean. "oh, you like.." schlatt sits back up, shaking off the sand from his back. "you like orcas, right?" wilbur's eyes light up, and schlatt knows that he's gotten it right. "his name is will," he grins at the look on wilbur's face, gently humming. he watches as the beast appears from the shadows a moment later, solidifying into its natural form. "here he is!" schlatt grins even wider, watching the orca hover next to wilbur.
"i.." wilbur's eyes are huge, shining and darting back and forth. "i've never seen one up close. is- will he- is he-"
"he likes you!" schlatt tells him, reaching out to touch the orca's back. he transfers his memories, all of the happy and good ones, with wilbur in them to the creature. the orca syncs with his mind, and schlatt smiles. "see?"
wilbur laughs, putting his hands on the sides of the orca's face, bringing his head to rest against the sea creature's. his hair floats in the water, and he looks ethereal, everything a god is supposed to look like. "schlatt?"
"yeah, wilbur?"
there's a long silence that stretches on for centuries. schlatt lets it, knowing that it's only natural. his friendship with wilbur has never been easy. it's always been full of hurt and anger and misery, but it's also always been full of happiness and joy and love. sometimes, a lapse in their friendship happens. it's natural, it's part of how they work. schlatt understands that better than he ever has.
he'll give wilbur all the time in the world.
"we're friends," wilbur whispers. "we're friends."
oh.
oh.
"you.." schlatt blinks. "i thought you hated me."
"i thought so, too," wilbur laughs, awkwardly and nervously and tensely. "i thought i hated you. i thought..i was wrong," he admits. "remember what you told me, that day when i destroyed our world?"
destroyed the world is an overstatement, schlatt thinks. although, to wilbur, the human family he had made for himself could have easily been the world to him. "yeah. i do."
"you told me that we were the only consistent things in each other's lives," wilbur's talking faster, his words rushed, his breathing sounding panicked and laboured and scared. "i don't..i don't want to hate you. not when you're the only thing, the only person, i have left. you're the only.." he shakes his head. "you were always a shitty friend," wilbur laughs. "you are a shitty friend. you were the worst person in the world when you masqueraded as a human."
"i am sorry about that," schlatt admits. "i regret it."
"i regret it, too," wilbur nods. "but that's, that's not the point. we're friends," his words are desperate, like he's trying to get schlatt to understand something important. "we're friends. we always have been, we always will be. no matter what happens, we always fall back on each other. we always have. we always will, won't we? even if i hate you, you won't hate me. and if you hate me, i won't hate you. we have each other. we have each other, and that's all we've ever had."
schlatt nods, slowly. "yeah?"
"yeah," wilbur is breathless. "yeah. i understand."
"do you, really?"
wilbur nods once. "i do. we're bound together, no matter what. no matter if we like it or not. no matter how much i hate you, no matter how much you hate me." schlatt smiles.
"wilbur, you've got something wrong."
"what?"
"i've never hated you."
wilbur stares at him. "i've hated you."
"i know."
"oh."
"don't "oh" me," schlatt laughs, throwing his head back. "i'm a dick. a real piece of shit, the worst kind of person. and you're not. you're everything that i'm not. it's sort of why we work, you know? opposites attract. we work."
"we work," wilbur confirms. "we're friends. thank you. for being there. for..for the entire time," wilbur laughs. "i'll be there for you. the concept of friendship," he breathes out, "is real, i think. i used to believe in it. i believed in it back when we were human."
"i think it's real," schlatt murmurs. "i think we prove that it is."
"no," wilbur shakes his head. "the two boys, tommy and tubbo. they're the ones who prove it's real. they're better than we could have ever been."
schlatt rolls his eyes. "they are," he confirms, although it pains him to do so. "but we're not them, big guy. we've got our own kind of friendship. and," he stands up, watching the water ripple around him. "we've got a long ass time to figure it all out."
wilbur grins, standing up with him. he's always been taller than schlatt has. "here's to an eternity," wilbur's eyes crinkle at the edges when he says it. "to us. to figuring shit out."
"to figuring shit out!" schlatt echoes, grinning right back at his best friend. "two gods, finally fixing their problems."
wilbur beams. "they'll work it out," his voice is soft. "they always do."