Work Text:
“I miss you, Tommy,” Wilbur spoke aloud.
His room was empty, he was merely speaking to the air surrounding him.
“I miss you so fucking much,”
A small shake of his head.
“I miss our streams. Our late night discord calls. You. I miss you,”
“Remember when we met up those few times? I can’t remember ever being happier. It was so great to finally be able to see you. To reach out, and be able to touch you,”
“I really fucking miss you,”
He ran a hand through his hair.
“Sometimes I convince myself that you’re still here. With me. Alive and breathing,”
“You’re not. I know that. But it’s nice to think.”
Wilbur paused, allowing his eyes to water as he hugged his knees tightly to his chest, rocking back and forth idly.
“I hate you,”
A sigh.
“Christ, Tommy, I really fucking hate you sometimes.”
“I hate you for what you put me through. What you put us through. All of us,”
“Do you have any idea how much we hurt? How hard we grieved for you, how much we begged you to come back?”
“Do you know how much it fucking hurts ? How much I’ve hated you for doing it?”
He allowed a singular tear to fall, now.
“I hate myself.”
“I hate myself for not realizing sooner. For not being able to help you. I wish I hadn’t been too late.”
“It’s been too long to still be wishing though, hasn’t it?”
“It’s been a year,”
“Seems like longer.”
Wilbur leaned forward, letting his fists rest on the floor around him as his voice was muffled by the hardwood.
“What did I do wrong?”
A dry sob.
“Why- Why couldn’t I save you?”
“Why are you gone?”
“I need you, Toms. You can’t be gone. Come back,”
He pleaded to the empty space.
“Please,”
“Come back, Tommy,”
“Come back,”
“Come back,”
“Come back, come back, come back, come back,”
“Tommy, come back,”
“Please, please, please come back Toms,”
Wilbur sucked in a long breath.
“COME BACK!”
He didn’t receive a reply. He hated himself for expecting one.
“Please,”
His voice was a mere whisper, defeat clear in his tone.
“Please, Toms,”
“You’re my everything. You can’t be gone,”
A pained breath.
“I saw you as a brother, you know,”
“Brothers don’t abandon each other,”
“Brothers, they- they’re always there for you,”
“But I wasn’t there for you then, so you’ll never be there for me now,”
“I’m sorry,”
“I’m so sorry, Tommy,”
“I’m sorry I fucked up so badly,”
“I’m sorry you were in so much pain,”
“I’m so, so, so sorry,”
“I wish it didn’t have to be this way,”
“I’d give anything to have you back,”
“I’d even-” Wilbur let out a strangled laugh. It was forced, but it would’ve been off not to. “I’d even chop my own fucking dick off,”
Tears flowed freely, now.
“With an audience,” He added.
He sniffed, sitting up and leaning against his wall.
“Phil says I need to move on,”
“How am I supposed to move on?”
“Moving on means accepting you’re gone.”
“I can’t do that, Toms, I need you here. Even if it’s just some mangled form of a spirit in my imagination, I can’t go on without you,”
He hiccuped, wiping his messy wet face with his jumper sleeve.
“It hurts so much,”
“I hate you,”
“..I miss you,”
“I love you.”
His voice was just a whisper now, a rasp going unheard by everyone and everything around Wilbur.
“I love you, Tommy,”
“I love you so fucking much, Jesus Christ man,”
“I need you,”
“I probably won’t forever, but god I do right now,”
Wilbur’s head was throbbing with pain, and his eyes were red and tired. It seemed he’d finally ran out of tears.
“Would you have wanted me to move on?”
“Can I? Is it even possible?”
“I think I’ll try. But I’ll never stop missing you.”
He smiled faintly, tracing the shape of his hand with his other hand’s index finger.
“I’ll try to be okay for you,”
“I know you liked me happy.”
The following words he spoke held a saddening finality.
“We can still talk, right? Even- Even when I’m trying to let go, I can still talk to you, right?”
“We’re brothers. I’ll never leave you, I’ll speak to you always. Until I die, Toms.”
“I miss you,”
“I love you.”
He stood up, making his way to his streaming set-up that hadn’t been touched since a year in the past.
He turned on his PC, and opened.. Twitter.
One word was all it took.
A simple ‘Hello,’ typed out on his keyboard and sent off to the internet.
And he was back.
With a lame smile and a fist bump to the open air,
“Here’s to trying,”