Work Text:
Ghostbur was on a train station and he was terrified. It was loud and crowded and awful . And it had remained unchanged for months. The same stench of mold, the same shadowy figures that flickered in and out of existence, the same ever-present harsh crimson light and the same distant rumble of trains. And the same fear that coated the back of his throat. Ghostbur had wandered miles up the station, up the tracks, but the only consistency in this limbo was the scratches on the concrete. Some were faint, barely visible, others practically gouges. Alivebur’s scribblings.
Day one thousand and thirteen. Fuck this place. Fuck Dream. Fuck everything.
I tried to talk to the shadow people. They are not friendly.
My L’Manberg my L’Manberg my
Where the fuck are the trains?? The noise of them is driving me insane
Death was supposed to be the solution
Saw a train. Techno was in it as it sped past. He was glowing green and didn’t see me. God I hate this place
Happy 11th anniversary in this shithole
Maybe it should’ve comforted Ghostbur to know that someone else had been here before him, someone real and tangible, but instead it just reminded him of how alone he was. Scared and alone. So instead Ghostbur had taken to curling up against one of the twisted iron benches and squeezing his eyes tight shut, trying not to cry, to will himself away, to remember anything about life before this place.
Already too many of his memories had receded into an untouchable blank fog and Ghostbur had given up doing anything but clinging to the memories he still possessed. How the sunlight fell on L’Manberg in the summer. Friend and his infinite canon lives. The endless grey sky at Techno’s cottage. Him and Tommy on their month long Lads on Tour. Blue staining his fingers. Phil, Eret, Tubbo, Ranboo, Niki, and… Tommy. How he failed Tommy. How he died begging, screaming for Tommy to save him, Dream’s unnaturally freezing fingers wrapped around his arm and the heat of the lava. Sam yelling at him, at Tommy, the pain of tears down his cheeks and Dream’s almost hysterical voice and then-
Then he’d been on a train, swapping places with Alivebur who stared at him with something like contempt as they passed. Too soon the train had left the station, leaving Ghostbur behind.
There was no blue in this place.
Months and months and months went by and there was only the walls and the rumble of trains and Ghostbur’s terribly loud thoughts. No one had come to save him then and no one had come to save him now. He didn’t know why no one had come back for him.
The metal of the bench began vibrating under him as a distant train drew closer and Ghostbur curled into himself even more. The trains never stopped running, but they never passed through this station, so why was the sound growing so unbearably loud? There was a rush of wind, a screeching of brakes and Ghostbur cracked open his eyes to see the concrete bathed with golden light from the train before him. It had been so long since he’d seen any other colour than the constant neon reds that Ghostbur stretched out an arm, watching as the yellow fell over his skin in wonder.
An invisible intercom spluttered to life somewhere above him, mumbling something incomprehensible as there was a soft ‘ting!’ and the doors before Ghostbur slid open. His eyes widened as the small blue sheep stepped uncertainly onto the platform.
“Friend!” Ghostbur was up and moving before he even registered it, sinking to his knees and hugging the sheep close. Friend gave a small baa and nuzzled back as the train’s door closed and it roared away into the darkness.
“Friend! Friend, I missed you so much.” The ghost’s words were muffled by a face full of blue wool, but he didn’t care, didn’t dare linger on the implications of why Friend was here and how he had died. Because he was here. Friend was with him when no one else was. Ghostbur just hugged Friend closer, blocking out the train station, the light and the concrete with the blue wool, letting his whole world turn blue. Friend was here and… and maybe it would be okay.