Chapter Text
Sweat trickled from his forehead, as he ran until he could no longer hear any of their shouting. Stumbling on the uneven grounds he found himself in, His throat burned and he felt his heart about to burst out of his chest. The heat wasn’t helping either, as he slowed down taking in his surroundings.
He paused for a minute to catch his breath before continuing to walk again despite his legs that were beginning to ache. Tall trees brushed the sky, with the sun making it’s way through the leaves creating flickering shadows on the ground.
The trees seemed to mock him for how little and fragile he was. He examined the freshly made bread in his hands that could last him for a week. It was worth the run, he told himself. It wasn’t his first time stealing from them, but this time he was nearly caught. Tommy really needed to find an easier way to get to his home. He traversed through the trees, crushing branches and leaves under his feet. Wanting to find an easier path to get to his little dirt shack.
It was Until An old small house came into view in the midst of the thick forest. He quickly rushed over to it, with his grip still tight on the bread he just stole. He didn’t bother knocking on the door as he saw how deserted it already looked.
The grass around it was already too tall, A broken lantern hung out from its porch, and small shards of glass scattered from a broken window. Careful not to step on any of the fragmented glass, he pressed his hand on the door knob and proceeded inside with caution in his step.
The house smelled of dust and mold. He eyed a fireplace on the other end of what used to be the living room which was devoid of any furniture, except for an old mattress. It looked as if it hadn’t been lit up in years.
Empty Item frames were hung on the walls and There was an old photograph that was starting to fade to the point that Tommy could no longer make out the faces of the people in it. He peeked in the kitchen, there he saw a table and three chairs all lined up away from it. On the table was a fruit bowl with a single red apple. It was the only thing that stood out in the gloomy home.
He was a little too small for the sink but luckily there was a stool if ever he needed it. He didn’t check to see whether if water still ran through it or not. The floorboards creaked as he made his way upstairs, causing him to flinch at the sound.
Surprisingly, the upper floor was in a much better condition. He found himself in a hallway of two rooms. Much to his dismay, He was unable to open the doors to both. He decided that he’d maybe throw a rock at it later or get an axe to open it.
At the end of the hallway was a hatch door. Eyeing it closely, he grabbed the stool near it so he could reach. A ladder fell down once he did. Carefully climbing up, Only to reveal an old attic that had a single bed across from a window where motes of dust danced in the sunlight that seeped out of it.
Sunlight filtered through the cracks in the ceiling. Tommy wondered if the house could hold a huge storm. Stacks of paintings could be found near chests that contained nothing but leather and old board games. Clearly history had written itself in the walls and floors of the house. He wonders what else has the house seen in all the years that it stood here. It was as if the abandoned house found him instead.
Sitting down on the old bed that creaked with age and the hazy view from the window in front of him, He smiled to himself as he had found yet another wondrous place. Maybe with a bit of work, he could move here and leave his old dirty home.
“What the fuck”
His heart stopped at the sound of the echo-like voice. A tingling feeling made its way to his skin. With his eyes still on the tree tops. He slowly turned his head to face the voice. Their eyes met as he held his breath before a loud shrill scream escaped his lungs.
°˖✧✿✧˖°
“How the fuck did you get here!? This area is supposed to be secluded from most things!”
Oh my god. Oh dear universe and entity above, he couldn’t prevent his jaw from dropping at what appeared to be a ghost in front of him. He had never believed the stories about ghosts that haunted mansions and such. Perhaps now was the best time to believe in them.
Tommy could only stare at the translucent figure in front of him. A tall brunette who wore a yellow sweater and a collar shirt underneath it. He looked Slightly blue and pale in color. His feet floating a bit from the dusty floorboards of the attic.
The ghost snapped his fingers in his face. And it made a sound, oh god, Tommy didn’t know ghosts were capable of that.
“Can you hear me? I shouldn’t be invisible right now to you, hello?”
Tommy shook his head in disbelief
“You're a ghost.”
“So you can hear me! How did you get here!?”
“You're a ghost!”
“You’re a child!”
The ghost put his hands on his face and groaned. Tommy shook his head, and turned to the bread he stole hoping to get back in touch with his sense of reality if he stared at it long enough.
“Alright kid-“ the ghost sighed before turning to face him again and continuing “I’m Wilbur, Wilbur Soot! and you’re on my premises, If you don’t leave I will curse you too.”
Tommy’s eyes widened as he turned to face him.
“You’re going to kill me!?”
He flicked his gaze upwards.
“gods no!”
The ghost quickly exclaimed. How could he be so sure? They're in the middle of nowhere too, judging by how he could just raise his voice at him, No one is able hear them if he ever yelled for help, it would be pointless. His body wouldn’t be found for a few days either. Oh well, who would look for his body anyways? Wouldn’t be too bad to die by the hands of a dead person. It could be worse.
Wilbur looked back him with a glassy stare. Oh, he must already be planning how to kill him and possibly hide his body. Can ghosts really do that?.
Tommy, without thinking, threw the loaf of bread at straight at his chest. The loaf of bread passed through the ghost’s chest, as expected with his slightly translucent appearance. This is it, He’s really going to die now.
The ghost clasped his hand on his mouth and let out a small chuckle before turning to look where the bread had landed.
“I gotta keep reminding myself you’re just a kid, mind telling me your name?”
Tommy paused and thought hard of what answer he was about to give.
“It’s wife haver”
He did not look amused.
“I-It’s Tommy”
He said in a weak shrunken voice, contrasting completely with his first tone. He could already feel the adrenaline of the day slowly leave him. As he didn’t feel like fighting the ghost or bombard him with questions to further annoy him.
“Will you let me stay?”
Wilbur stared at him for a few seconds before giving him a reply.
“No”
“Please?”
“No”
“I am merely a child all lost in the woods-“
“This is practically a house supposed to be lost in the woods”
Tommy didn’t understand what he meant when he said that, he crossed his arms at him. If the angry method didn’t work, he’d have to do the puppy eyes method later on instead. Wilbur only blinked at him, all signs of irritation lost and replaced with some sort of off-putting amusement. It made Tommy’s stomach churn.
“How old are you?”
Tommy wondered if he should lie again. It didn’t work well the first time he did. And from experience, his appearance would give it away otherwise.
“I’m eleven, I think”
The ghost titled his head at him. Before he could even reply, Tommy gave him a quick nod. Wilbur took that as a sign to not pry any more.
“Where are your parents? And why are you here?”
The blonde shrugged.
“Don’t have any, also I just wanted to take... a walk you know?”
Wilbur rolled his eyes at him with arms crossed that imitated his earlier gesture. Tommy gave him another quick nod again, and this time Wilbur knew that it meant ‘it’s true, please believe me’
The ghost got a closer look at Tommy with the rays of the afternoon sun seeping through the window behind him. Eyeing him from top to bottom. Dirt tainted the boy’s seemingly golden hair making it darker than it naturally was. His white shirt was quite obviously covered in dirt too and the brown coat he wore which was too big for his size, had patches with stitches that already started to loosen. From the way the blonde sat, it was clear that he was hiding scratches on some part of his leg as well.
Wilbur couldn’t bring himself to care about that, but he felt an emotion he couldn’t quite place as he met the boy’s blue eyes that seemed flicker with a hint of fire in it, that if it was fanned even more it could send the entire forest into flame and ash.
Despite that, Wilbur shook his head. He didn't want or need to care.
“I can’t let you stay here”
“Why not?”
The boy said with a serious weight in his tone.
“Because… aren’t I reason enough?”
Tommy shook his head slowly, with his eyes still on his chest where he threw the bread at.
“I don’t see why it’s a problem”
Wilbur’s mouth opened briefly but nothing came out of it. He wanted to drag the boy out of here if it weren't for his weak grip on living beings. The boy looked like he was about to start laughing like he did earlier.
“Go away”
“No”
Wilbur’s brows furrowed at his reply keeping his arms crossed. There was just this feeling that Tommy couldn’t place upon seeing the ghost figure in front of him. He didn’t look threatening at all, in fact, he seemed rather friendly. Perhaps because of the bright yellow sweater he wore.
“You know kid, you just reminded me of a story”
Tommy’s ears twitched at the mention of the word ‘story’ He loved stories, he hoped that one day he could tell his own. He then sat cross legged near the bed in the attic. Giving him a look that pressed Wilbur to go ahead and tell the story. Wilbur had his arms crossed as he floated towards him at a safe distance.
“It’s a story about a traitor”
Wilbur started, with a strong emphasis on the last word he muttered. Thinking it would either sound threatening or cool to the kid eager to listen to his tale. Tommy instead titled his head at him
“What’s that?”
Tommy’s only ever head of the word tractor.
All sense of pride left Wilbur’s face as his shoulders dropped. The blonde shuddered at how the word must be something that he should’ve known.
“Its… its a bad guy, you’ll understand more when we get to the story”
Tommy nodded in agreement. Labeling traitors as bad guys in his head.
“There were once 3 friends who fought for the freedom of their country. With swords and arrows. All to gain the lands of what was rightfully theirs to have against their oppressors”
Tommy shifted in his position. He wanted to ask what oppressors meant too, but decided not to.
“But then in one of those 3 men was a traitor… The traitor led them in a room that he claimed was to be useful in their war. He led the other two men in, only for them to meet their demise in the hands of the people they fought so hard against. All thanks to the betrayal of who they thought was their loyal friend and the reason… the reason that he did it was for the sake of becoming a crowned a king.”
Tommy started fidgeting his fingers as he listened.
“What does demise even mean?”
Wilbur gave him a short laugh. In that moment, he saw a bunch of mixed emotions on the face of the ghost. It was scary but it was warm.
“It means death”
In an instant, Any sense of warmth on the ghost’s eyes turned cold. It was something so heavy for most people, yet Tommy couldn’t find it in him to feel afraid of it. He didn’t care about the when he would one day die or even how he will.
It was only his human instinct of survival that pushed him to stay alive on his own for this long. But Wilbur’s story, of the 3 friends, and one being a bad guy that betrayed the other two. It made Tommy’s heart ache at the thought. He imagined what it must have felt for the other two friends, to be betrayed by people you trust. He felt it back at the orphanage, when another kid caught sight of him stealing food from the pantry, and the kid would point at him and yell for the caretakers. Later on, he'd see the same kid be praised. And he finds himself preparing to be punished. So It’s just like that? Tommy thought.
“is that it?”
Wilbur blinked rapidly at the boy’s reaction. He nodded and his shoulders looked a lot less tense. Wilbur nodded at him.
“Well that’s a lame story”
The ghost stared hard and long at the wall for a good minute. What could he have possibly said that made the man go into some sort of trance. Was it because he said that his story was lame? Will he be punished for it as well?
This story was different than what Tommy is always used to. It’d usually be about dragons, and kingdoms, knights, and happy endings. This one however does not have any of that. Perhaps because it was a lot more realistic. Tommy liked the idea of actually realistic stories. He dangled his feet and stretched it before saying:
“is this your way of saying you're gonna kill me?”
“I’ll count to ten-“
With that the blonde boy scrambled to his feet. Running towards the door in his worn out coat that dragged along to his feet. Wilbur was surprised that it only took that much to get the boy out of the house.
He looked at him running back into the forest from the window attic, A small sense of guilt inhabited his mind once he saw the loaf of bread that the boy left behind.