Chapter Text
Phil beat his hand against the desk in frustration as he crumbled up yet another draft of his apology.
“This isn’t working!”
Sorry I killed you. <3
-Love Phil
Stared back at him on the paper. He growled and crumpled it up again.
“No more starting with sorries, write from the heart.” He kept mumbling to himself. He picked up his quill, dipped it into his ink pot, and became lost in writing...
I’m Blue Will
by Philza Watson
Page 1 of 5
To Will,
Should this book ever find you, I’m sorry. I know you don’t like it when we get serious, but these are words I need you to hear. These are words of a guilt ridden old man who made the greatest mistake.
My mistake?
I let you rot away in your mind and pull children into a war they would never truly win. You had already stacked the cards before they had the chance to deal their hand.
I’m want you to know I’m not writing this to blame you. I’m the one to blame. I ran you through with your own sword, for what? To play hero? To get rid of the ‘evil’ that had plagued L’manberg? Fix a symphony who’s notes got lost through multiple transpositions? I killed you as if it would make the problem disappear. You’re not a problem Will, you’re my son! For God’s sake, I held you in my arms until your heart puttered to a stop! Your words of encouragement and prayers of thanks falling deaf on my ears as I took in the horror of what I’d done. Your brown eyes, my son’s beautiful browns, glazed over in the dim confused light of the control room. I lowered you to the ground sweeping away any rubble that would disturb your slumber, as if you’d wake up from this. As if I hadn’t been too overwhelmed by the aftermath that I thought probable killing my own son was a solution. I placed a kiss on your head and fixed that stupid beanie you always wear because you insist it hides your ‘balding’. You liked to wear it a lot with that yellow sweater.
I removed your sword from your chest. The sword I used to kill my son, the sword I would use to stop my son’s from falling further from greatness, the sword coated red with your blood. Withers rage on as I flew towards the combat. Heavy is the heart I’d split in two. Then soon the Withers were destroyed taking what little remains of L’manberg with them. Techno fled the scene before I could get in a word with him.
Have I failed him like I failed you Will?
I’m blue Will.
Page 2 of 5
Dear Will,
The sun rises on a new day in L’manberg. Your boy throws his hat in the air and cheers as Tubbo proudly gives a speech about the freedom of their new nation. A speech I wish you were there to hear. I bandaged wounds after the fallout. There were children fighting a war for independence. They were just kids.
Tommy.
I had held him for hours Will. He wouldn’t believe you were gone, that his big brother, his hero, would go down with the country he had fought so hard to build. He kept telling me how he thought you’d come around and change your mind, give up the ‘villain’ act. Instead he watched on in anxiety for the man who lost sight of his morals for the mission of independence or death. I wish he was mad at me. I want Tommy to scream at me Will. I took you from him! I took my son from this world with well trained hands, and a swift blow! Come back home please. I need you to come back home.
I’m blue Will.
Page 3 of 5
Dear Will,
I followed Techno through the snow and we settle our disputes. He tells me he’s going to keep his hair long like you always liked it. Not that you remember that anymore. We’re not welcome in L’manberg anymore and I hear Tommy is not either. Please watch over him Will. I can’t get away from my work at the moment. I can’t stop thinking about what I did. Maybe if I work hard enough on the farms for Techno then it will become a distant memory.
I’m blue Will.
Page 4 of 5
Dear Will,
I haven’t heard from Tommy in weeks. Have you been with him? I heard there was a beach party, but I never received an invitation? Was the party nice? I’m headed to L’manberg on errands for Techno. I worry a lot. Should I be worried?
I’m turning blue Will.
Page 5 of 5
Will please,
It isn’t true. It isn’t true. Will tell me it isn’t true! I stopped the Butcher Army from going to murder Techno and L’manberg placed me on house arrest for helping a fugitive of the law. I spent days alone not being allowed to craft anything new. I was stuck with nothing but my thoughts.
Then there came a knock at my door. I opened it.
There’s the president, he slams into my chest bawling. I hold him close and try to soothe him.
He catches his breath then whispers in a hollow tone “Tommy fell from a high place.”
I didn’t believe him.
I told him “that’s not my Tommy. My Tommy is loud, a party, and makes death fear him.” There was no way, not my son, your brother couldn’t have.
He shakes his head sniffing and takes me out of house arrest, perhaps it was pity or revenge. I could save one son but not the other. We travel by Nether portal and the first thing I see on the other side is craters. Craters left and right. The few remaining logs of your campsite mere splinters sticking out of the ground.
I’m overwhelmed.
I don’t think to look up. I don’t want to look up. And yet, I look up.
There’s a tower so tall and not made of cobble like how my boy makes his towers. No. It’s scraps and pieces of whatever was left: splintered logs, blocks of wool, dirt, anything and everything to tower to the sky despite how rickety and unstable it may be.
If I close my eyes I can almost see him.
Above the clouds looking at how small the world around him is. Hopefully seeing the sunset from a birds eye view, just like how he used to beg me to take him flying when you were all tots.
But when I open my eyes there is no warm sunlight. There’s no glowing painting in the sky that my boy would spend hours waiting for.
No.
It’s a cold night and the mobs are coming and falling into the craters and inhibiting the pitiful plot of land my son spent exiled in. The tower stands tall and defiant mocking me.
I failed him. I killed him like I killed you Will.
He was just a kid! I was too late. I’m always too late. I made the same mistake again. Don’t let him forget Will. Make him happy. He doesn’t need to be blue. Don’t let him be blue.
I’ve become blue Will.
—
Phil finished signing the book and with a heavy sigh placed it in one of the many chests in his house. Drying the tears that welled up in his eyes.
A knock at the door
It was Will or Ghostbur as he preferred to be called these days. Phil tried to maintain his appearance, he wouldn’t be able to handle the news if he found out. They make quick conversation before he makes his way to Techno’s home to hold his son in a tight hug and grieve once again. Philza was completely unaware of the boy hiding under the house in sickly condition.