Work Text:
Ghostbur had lost his home, but he was a ghost and ghosts didn’t need homes. Or at least that’s what Tommy had assured him after Dream blew up L’Manberg for the final time.
At least he would no longer be known as the one who destroyed something that had once been so beautiful.
It was the first place he went as the others salvaged what they could from the crater, the room with the button. It was buried in rubble and most of the signs he had put on the walls had been destroyed, but it gave him some clarity.
He missed too many things. Even the people who were still around were too different for him to recognize.
Tommy, his little brother Tommy who he’d helped raise, had become a war-torn, broken little boy. Tubbo had been forced to grow up as soon as he assumed the role of president. Techno was something else entirely; crazed, working with Dream to destroy the place Wilbur had worked so hard to build. Phil...Phil looked so tired.
As the sun rose and he watched light bloom over the husk of his L’Manberg, Techno joined him. Wilbur continued to look over the wreckage.
“I don’t have a home anymore, Technoblade,” He said gently, resting a ghostly hand on Techno’s armored shoulder. “No sewer, no Logsteadshire, no L’Manberg.” Techno chuckled.
“Neither does Dream,” He cracked. “You didn’t care much about L’Manberg when you blew it up the first time-”
“Well, I do now,” Will interrupted, glaring at Techno. They were brothers and Wilbur could never deny that, but maybe The Blade was truly too far gone. “...or at least, I did.”
“You can’t blame yourself,” Techno started, his voice hoarse, but not with emotion. “L’Manberg was destined to be lost the second you and Tommy made it your home.”
“It could’ve been your home too, Technoblade.”
“No.” He shook his head solemnly, crown glinting in the golden light of the morning. “You don’t remember a lot, Wilbur, but you remember that song you wrote, don’t you?” Wilbur sighed.
“I do.”
“You remember the names?”
“With Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, fuck Eret,” Wilbur sang quietly. Techno nodded, hand resting on the pommel of his sword.
“L’Manberg was never meant for me. It was a country built on having a ruler and I could never live in a place like that.” Techno watched Wilbur scowl, unsurprised and unimpressed.
“Don’t you see how your position is flawed?” Will struggled to keep the anger out of his voice. “For every government you destroy, you only get more powerful. You are just as much a tyrant as any of us.”
Techno remained silent, a pretense of calm over his face. Dream might be the one famous for the mask, but Techno’s was made from years of hiding his emotions behind bedrock walls.
“You were sad that you didn’t have a grave, weren’t you Wilbur?” Techno asked gently. It was true, for a long time after his death no one had thought to make Wilbur a grave. Only when Techno had urged them, had a headstone been built. “I went there every day for a month.”
“I remember,” Will smiled at the thought. “I went there too.” Techno chuckled, running his fingers through his rosy ponytail.
“You used the flowers people left for you, braided them into my hair,” Techno recalled. “Phil laughed at me when I came home. He must have been jealous.”
“Rightfully so,” Wilbur replied fondly. “They left so many flowers. Niki must have torn up a field for all those daisies. And Fundy...my son Fundy, he brought me yellow roses.”
“Just like you brought for Sally.” Techno finished the thought. He had heard it many times before. They both knew what yellow roses meant; forgiveness.
“Can I tell you something, Technoblade? I have a theory.”
“Anything, brother of mine.”
Wilbur’s gaze drifted back to the sunrise. He watched the darkness melt back as the world filled with light once again. How dare the sun rise without L’Manberg to greet it.
“I think dead people receive more flowers than the living because regret is stronger than gratitude.”
The words washed over the brothers like molten lava over ice, forging a wall of obsidian between them. Techno’s expression hardened once more.
“Will, I-”
“Too much darkness can be blinding, Technoblade,” Wilbur interrupted. For the first time, Will could see something resembling shame cross his brother’s face.
“As can too much light,” Techno replied quietly, finishing the quote. Wilbur nodded solemn before replacing his hand on Techno’s shoulder.
“Tommy is still a boy, and Phil won’t watch over him anymore.” It was true. Philza had always tried his best to be a father to them but it was clear that he had loosened the reins long ago. “You have to take care of him now.”
“Are you going somewhere?” Techno asked. Will’s eyes scanned the wreckage in front of him, tracing the place where the walls used to stand.
“I haven’t decided yet. But I don’t think there’s anything for me to do now but leave.”
“And Tubbo?” Techno nodded to bees buzzing nearby. Wilbur sighed.
“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him in so long. Who’s that new one that you adopted? The enderman with memory issues like me?”
“Ranboo?” Techno raised a brow. Wilbur nodded slowly. Ranboo reminded him so much of a young Technoblade, so strong yet so lost. He was sure Techno could relate to being torn between your two halves.
“Take care of that one,” Will continued. “Dream’s shown some interest in him and I don’t want him to end up like Tommy, like me.”
“Wilbur, you know I would never have teamed with Dream if I didn’t think it was best for us-” Techno rambled but Wilbur hushed him.
“Just promise,” Wilbur’s eyes were cold, after all, Techno wasn’t the only one who knew how to put up a mask. “You have to hold this family together and don’t let Ranboo out of your sight.”
Techno chuckled darkly. “You always were the smart one. That is, until you lost your mind and ended up costing two of your brother’s their lives. I know you still don’t forgive me for what I did to Tubbo on that stage-”
“I don’t remember it,” Will said matter-of-factually. “Ghosts don’t hold grudges. All we have is our past so if we did, there would be nothing to stay around for except hate.”
“You’re trying to tell me you’ve been sticking around for love?”
“I’ve been given a new perspective and I’m taking advantage of it while I still have it.”
Techno laughed again. “Like I said, you were always the smart one, Will. I may have had the strength but nothing could beat your resourcefulness.”
“And yet, you’ll still always be dad’s favorite,” Wilbur said bitterly. Phil had a passion for picking up strays on the side of the road and giving them a home. Home. Such a simple word for such a complicated idea.
Home wasn’t a place, nor a person. Home was the one place you could never return to. For Wilbur that was his L’Manberg, it was his sanity. Will wondered what Techno’s home was.
“What are you scared of, Will?” Techno turned to leave. “Don’t answer, just think. Why are you still fighting for people who won’t fight for you back?”
“I can answer,” Wilbur said quickly. Techno paused midstep, back to back with Wilbur. “I may not remember much but I remember the good things. If you or Tommy or Tubbo join me, I want you to have good things to remember as well.”
“In this world? Those are high hopes.”
With that, Techno left, leaving Wilbur standing alone at the precipice. Will had found himself in this position so many times before, dancing on the edge of his former madness. Flirting with the abyss, because he had realized long ago that yelling into it wasn’t enough.