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"Do I shoot him, Will, or do I aim for the skies?"
Wilbur paces across the bridge, over and over again, his stomach twisting with every single step that he takes. Rain still soaks the wooden bridge, blood splattered everywhere. Tommy's blood. Wilbur breathes out, closing his eyes as he tries to calm himself down, wishing that he had somewhere else to go other than the room that Tommy's currently being held in. He doesn't want to sit on the side of his brother's bed and wait for him to wake up - he's been doing that for the past three days, and Tommy hasn't moved, not an inch. Wilbur paces, scuffing his feet along the ground as he walks, desperately trying to erase his mind of the events that happened three days ago.
The duel was a mistake. Wilbur shouldn't have let Tommy go for it, he should have refused to let him go through with it. He should have offered himself up rather than Tommy, he should have done everything differently. But it's far too late for that now, and all Wilbur can do is wallow in his regrets and wish that he had done something better. He should have never let Tommy join in on the war, he should have kept his little brother far, far away from the fighting and destruction that was going on. Though Wilbur knows, deep down, he could have never kept Tommy away for long. The kid's stubborn as fuck, especially when it has something to do with being involved with anything Wilbur's doing. Tommy is stubborn and hard to control, and after a while, Wilbur stopped trying to control him. There was never much of a point in trying to control Tommy, no matter how hard he tried.
He turns to look over his shoulder, staring at L'manberg's walls in the distance. He knows that that he should be with Tommy right now, that he should be sitting in that stupid, creaky chair that's unbelievably uncomfortable, but he doesn't want to be. He's terrified of what's going to happen when Tommy wakes up, if Tommy wakes up. Wilbur breathes out, closing his eyes for half a second as he starts to walk back to L'manberg, forcing down his worries and fears and everything else. He keeps his head high as he walk along the Prime Path, knowing damn well that no one is going to try and hurt him, not when he's here. He keeps walking, listening to the rain that pours down against him, soaking him to the bone. Wilbur wishes that it didn't rain as much as it did. He used to like the rain. He liked the rain until Tommy got shot in the chest and fell into the river, nearly drowning.
Wilbur thinks that he should have killed that green son of a bitch long before Tommy ever had the chance to be hurt by him. Too late for that, he reminds himself as he walks. He picks up the pace, his walking turning into a light jog, before it turns into a full-fledged sprint. Wilbur races as fast as he can to the walls of L'manberg, practically throwing himself through the gate when he reaches it, nearly slamming straight into Eret. "Eret," Wilbur stumbles back, eyes wide as he looks past him, panic suddenly bubbling up in his chest. "He's okay? He's still okay, right?" Eret looks at him, concern etching the lines of his face. "Is he?" Wilbur repeats, furrowing his eyebrows together when Eret still doesn't say anything, feeling his heart start to slam into his chest, his throat closing up to the point where he can't breathe.
"He's fine, Wilbur," Eret frowns at him. "Why wouldn't he be? He's just resting right now. He still isn't awake, but I think he'll wake up in another day or two, maybe a week from now, tops. Tommy is a tough kid, Wilbur. He'll be fine. Kid's too stubborn to die, you know?" Eret jokes, but it falls flat. Wilbur stares at him, shoving past the man a second later. He moves as fast as he can to the building that Tommy's been staying in, pushing open the door with his shoulder when he reaches it. He looks into the room, eyes scanning over the area. It's dim, but not dim enough to the point where he can't see.
Wilbur feels his shoulders relax a little as he sees Tommy, breathing out. Wilbur moves to sit on the chair placed next to his little brother's bedside, propping his legs up on each other. "Hello, Tommy," Wilbur murmurs, looking up at the ceiling, furiously blinking back tears. "Today is the third day that you've been sleeping. Your injuries are healing up nicely, though. We got you out of the water very early, so your wound didn't get infected. I'm thankful that I started to teach Tubbo and Fundy basic healing. They've been doing a good job taking care of you. I'm sorry," he looks away, burning a hole through the goddamn ground. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let you fight. It was my fault, all of this..it's all my fault, and I'm sorry."
He tilts his head back watching as light comes in through the holes in the roof. He had to rebuild most of the buildings in L'maberg when Dream tried to bomb them out of their homes. It didn't work, and despite everything, all of them managed to live. It was difficult, but with burn wounds and some broken bones, they all survived. Wilbur thinks that that was the day he saw Tommy's eyes change. Before, it had almost been like a game to him, something that he'd do in his free time, a war mostly built on letters and empty threats. But the day Dream destroyed Tommy's home, that was when Wilbur thinks that he started to take it seriously. That was when Tommy realised that it was so much more than a game, that it was war.
"I'm sorry," Wilbur apologies again. He does that a lot, he's noticed. "Everyone has been predicting that you'll wake up in another few days or so, but I really can't help but think that that's just not going to be true. You're a stubborn little shit, Tommy. You're far too stubborn to do what any of us want. You're going to take your sweet time waking up, and it's going to put me through so much fucking pain because I'll be sitting here, waiting, and you just won't wake up. You really..I would like it if you woke up soon, Tommy. I miss you. I miss you a lot, and that's stupid to say, but I do. It's true, Tommy. I miss you so much."
Wilbur sighs. "You're my annoying little shit of a brother, of course I miss you. I'd be lying to you and everyone else, including myself, if I tried to pretend like I didn't miss talking to you. I guess I'm talking to you right now, but I'm sure that you know what I mean. I miss you talking back to me, that's what I'm going for here. I miss your stupid, snarky comments. I miss you telling me that my face is dumb or that you hate my accent. I just miss you in general, and I know that if I ever told you that when you weren't comatose, you'd never let me live it down," Wilbur smiles, ducking his head. "But it's true, and you're comatose, so it works out."
"I really, really want you to wake up soon, Tommy. I know that everyone else wants you back, too. Especially Tubbo. Me and Tubbo, we're the ones trying so hard to get you to come back to us. I know that you're not going to die. You have two lives left. You died once from this, and you won't die again from it. But I can't..I can't help but be real fucking scared that you just won't wake up. The laws of this world are so fucked, Tommy. You have three lives, you died once, but who knows if you'll wake up. If you don't wake up, Tommy, I think I might actually lose my mind. How would I explain to Phil and Techno that I let our brother and son die? How would I explain that? I don't want to have to go to a headstone to talk to you, Tommy. I really, really don't."
"When you wake up, Tommy, I want to take you back home. And I know damn well that you're not going to let me do that, but that's what I want. People always tell me that when you're in a coma, you can hear what goes on around you. So, Tommy," Wilbur smiles. "When you wake up, I want to take you to Phil and Techno, and then you'll be safe. War's not a safe place for a kid, Tommy. I know you'd fight it, and I know it isn't going to happen, but I wish that you'd let me do that. It would save me so much stress. If you died when I was supposed to be protecting you, I don't know what the hell I'd do. Go insane, probably. I guess I'd just..give up. This isn't about L'manberg anymore, not really. L'manberg's not my country anymore. It's yours, Tommy. And so long as you want this nation, I'll fight with you for it. I promise."
Wilbur leans back in his chair, staring up at the sunbeams that pour in through the roof. "I really just wish that you would-"
"Can you shut up for two seconds? Jesus Christ, Will, I just woke up and you're already-"
"Tommy!" Wilbur feels his entire world stop spinning, an exhausted and giddy grin spreading across his face as he stands up, nearly kicking the chair over. "Oh my god, you're- you've woken up, holy shit."
Tommy laughs, wincing when he does. He moves to sit up, sighing after a few seconds. He looks tired, but not like he's in pain, thank god. "No shit, Will. You're being real fucking obvious right now, huh?" Tommy beams at him, closing one eye. "God, what the hell happened to me? Did that green son of a fucking bitch shoot me, or what? Is that why my chest's tryin' to murder me?" Wilbur breathes out, unable to keep his stupid grin off of his face. "God, don't look at me like that. You're acting like I died or something," Wilbur looks away, staring down at the ground. "What? Did I..did I die? Holy shit, that's just..not very cool."
Wilbur can't help but laugh, shaking his head at his stupid little brother. "Are you okay?"
"I mean.." Tommy sighs. "I just woke up from the world's shittiest nap only to be informed that I've fucking died and that I got shot. So.." Tommy raises an eyebrow at him. "Take a wild guess, Wilbur," he grins a second later. "But, uh, actually.." Tommy shrugs. "I think I'm okay. Chest kinda hurts like a bitch, but otherwise, I'm alright. How long has it been?"
"Three days," Wilbur murmurs. "You've been asleep for three days."
"Aw," Tommy smiles up at him. "Did you miss me?"
"No."
Tommy grins. "That's a fucking lie, Wilbur. I know you missed my charms. I'm very irresistible, it's why women love me. Did you know that? I've got, like, a lot of wives. That's called infidelity." Wilbur laughs, way harder than he thinks that he should at the joke.
"And adultery," he agrees. "I'm glad that you're not taking this too hard. I'd be terrified if I had lost a life." Tommy shrugs, looking bored.
"Not really a big deal, now is it?" He laughs. "I mean, yeah, dying sucks and all that, but I mean.." Tommy beams at him. "Can't change it. Plus, it's all good knowing that you had to sit here and wait for me to wake up so I could make fun of you," he pauses. "Yeah, um, thanks, though. Seriously. For waiting, and all that. If I woke up alone, I'd have just rolled out of bed and crawled around until I got attention. And you know me," Tommy grins. "I do it all for the attention. That's why I've got so many wives."
Wilbur sighs, fondly. "Yeah. I'm sure you do, Tommy," he looks away, his heart hurting in his chest, but in the good way. The best way possible. "I'm glad you woke up. I..I did miss you." Tommy grins at him.
"Knew it! I fuckin' called it, what did I say! I called it! Knew it!" Tommy laughs, clapping his hands together. "I mean, to be fair, I'm not surprised. I'd miss me, too. I always miss me, actually. I'm quite lonely, Wilbur." Wilbur scoffs, rolling his eyes as he flicks the side of Tommy's face.
"Shut the fuck up, child. You've got like, thirty friends, you dipshit."
Tommy grins. "And you only have one. And it's me."
Wilbur smiles. "Yeah. You're my friend." Tommy blinks at him, something sort of like disbelief in his face.
"Oh, don't get all mushy on me, Wilbur," he laughs, looking away. "Whatever, you're my friend, too. Anyways!" Tommy clears his throat, launching up in bed, and Wilbur winces when he does. "When the fuck are we gonna get L'manberg's freedom? I'm sick 'nd tired of laying around here all the time. I'm ready to go back into the fighting lines, Big W! Send me in, I'm gonna kick some green bitch's ass!" Wilbur sighs. Of course Tommy wouldn't want to rest.
"You can get up in another day or two when you're less likely to collapse," Wilbur tells him. "Okay?"
Tommy sighs at him, long and low. "You are a control freak."
"I'm trying to keep you alive."
"You are controlling my life. This is abuse. I want out." Wilbur sighs once again, wondering if he really missed Tommy or if he missed the idea of Tommy. He rolls his eyes at that thought, knowing full well that he missed his little brother.
"Not until you feel better," Wilbur grins. "Hey, Tommy?"
"What up, bitch?"
"I love you."
Tommy scrunches up his face, his eyes going wide for a second. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever, you're gettin' all soft 'nd shit," Tommy looks away, a small smile on his face. "But, yeah. Whatever. You..you too, Will."
Wilbur smiles as he sits by Tommy's bedside, listening to his little brother complain and insult him and yell out profanities, and Wilbur would never have it any other way. Even though he knows that they'll have to go back and fight soon, even though Wilbur is well aware that they're going to have to put their lives on the line again.
He still wouldn't have it any other way.
And as he listens to Tommy laugh and grin about the dumbest shit in the world, Wilbur knows that he feels the same.