Archive of Our Own

A gentle wind blew across the small plain, picking up leaves and dancing along to their silent melody. It was a peaceful time, birds singing in the branches of trees somewhere nearby, the edge of the ocean lazily lapping at the shore, but it was all a facade for the hell that was happening to a blonde teen in the midst of his exile.

Watching in dismay as his younger brother’s stuff was reluctantly thrown into a small hole dug by his overseer, or as others would call it, his abuser, Wilbur’s eyes burned with a sort of anger that could crumble men with one glance. Tommy’s eyes looked so dull as he dropped his brand new set of iron armor into the hole, and it pained the dead man to watch his once rambunctious and boastful brother be reduced to a shell of what he once was.

An explosion from the ground brought him back from his angry thoughts, and he watched as Dream spoke to the teen about needing to learn his lesson and that the boy kept forcing the masked man’s hand. He then pulled the blonde into a hug, and to his utter dismay Tommy returned the embrace, practically sagging into the slightest sign of affection, and Wilbur bristled at how Dream was using this knowledge against him. Though it only lasted for a few seconds, the brunette had seen enough to burn entire armies if it meant that Dream would stop tearing apart his sibling.

Once the crazed man had left, which was much to Tommy’s reluctance, Ghostbur, the desaturated and much nicer and probably dumber version of himself, came over to the slumped teen and offered him some blue dye with a reassuring smile. Wilbur thought for a second that he was going to try and talk to Tommy about his current situation, but of course, he completely avoided it and began to talk about some ridiculous sheep he had found a while ago. Wilbur was seething. This idiotic version of him wasn’t doing jack shit for Tommy, and by the way the blonde would sometimes look at Ghostbur when he wasn’t paying attention, he knew that the constant reminder that his older brother was dead was nearly as painful as the entire exile experience, and this sent a pang into the brunette’s still heart.

After some nonsensical rambling about the dumb animal, Ghostbur finally floated away to his own little shelter; Logstedshire he called it. After watching the ghost leave humming a happy tune, Wilbur moved over to Tommy, who was sitting in the grass and staring into the ragged hole where his items had just been, his fingers messing with whatever he could get his hands on: the blades of grass, his shoelaces, the hem of his pants, pieces of loose dirt. It was a fidget he did whenever he was upset, or when he was lost in thought and it wasn’t a nice place.

Worry creased the man’s brow, and he crouched down beside him, examining the cuts and bruises that lined the thin boy’s body and face, the empty look in his once electric blue eyes, and he sucked in a breath at the dismal state of him. Wilbur placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, and he could see a shiver pass through his body from the contact as he glanced over his shoulder. Wilbur had discovered early on that he could interact with people, but only if they were standing still, and they could never tell that it was someone else there with them, instead believing it was just their own thoughts. The same thing happened whenever he talked to somebody. His words became something like intrusive thoughts, except for Ghostbur. While his desaturated self couldn’t see him, he was aware that those “thoughts” in his head was Wilbur speaking to him, and would sometimes reply to him. How he knew it was Wilbur was beyond him.

A heavy sigh escaped the dead man, and instead of scolding him for letting the masked man walk all over him or try and speak some words of advice, he just thought that the teen really needed some contact that wasn’t full of malice. So he shifted to behind the younger and enveloped the broken teen in a hug, putting his head on the top of those dirty blonde curls and focusing everything he had into that one embrace. Tommy let out a shaky breath, trying his best to choke back the whimpers that threatened to tumble from his mouth, but soon enough he was crying, dirty sobs racking his body as he curled in on himself, relishing the distant feeling of his older brother comforting him.

“Shhh it’s okay Tommy. I’m here,” He said, carding his hand through the boy’s hair as he trembled, the blonde whispering under his breath, “I miss you so much Will, why’d you have to fucking leave?”

They stayed like that until the sun began to dip in the sky, turning the baby blues into deep pinks and oranges, and Wilbur finally let go of the tired teen, who immediately let out a sound of dismay and longing. Wilbur stood and gave Tommy small proddings, telling him that he needed to go to bed so he could have the strength to face tomorrow, and Tommy slowly rose to his feet, dragging his tired and broken body back to tnret. When he had fallen into the small cot, Wilbur sat cross legged in the air next to him, watching as he tossed and turned, trying his best to get comfortable and fall asleep, but nothing was working.

In an effort to help out, Wilbur brought his otherworldly guitar out and began to play a simple tune, one that he would play whenever it was the four of them back home, sitting in the living room as the fire crackled and they all had a cup of hot tea. As he had started strumming, Tommy had stilled, staring up at the ceiling of the tent as his breathing became steady. Even in the dark, Wilbur could see the tears that pricked the boy’s eyes, but he quickly scrubbed them away and turned onto his side, facing the brunette but staring right through him.

“You know, I’ve always thought that song was stupid, and you were always playing it. I didn’t wanna tell you that I liked it cause then you’d get this stupid smile on your face and start making fun of me about it, so I kept quiet, but I always liked it whenever you played guitar. If you were here I bet you’d tell me some deep shit or tell me to get off my ass,” Tommy said, mostly to himself, but he was also speaking directly to Wilbur, who was grinning at his guitar strings as he plucked away at them while the blonde continued, “and if you were listening, you’d say something like ‘Damn right I would.’ ” This got a small chuckle from the brunette, because he was just about to say that. Tommy knew him too well.

After that the blonde fell silent, staring at the spot where Wilbur would be, but never actually seeing him. Wilbur continued the tune.

“I miss you Wilby.” Tommy admitted into the night, believing that only the wind would hold his admission with careful hands and carry it far away where no one would ever find it again.

Wilbur looked at his brother with sad eyes, the nickname that much younger and springy Tommy had given him hitting a sensitive spot in his heart, “I do too Toms,” he whispered, “I do too.”

The longer he played, the more he could see the tension leave Tommy’s shoulders, and after a while his eyes fluttered shut, his breathing deepening as he fell into a peaceful sleep for the first time in weeks. The poor kid needed a break.

Once he was sure that Tommy wasn’t going to be waking up anytime soon, Wilbur put away the instrument and uncrossed his legs, making them connect to the floor again before walking over to Tommy and running his gloved hand through his hair again. The teen hummed in his sleep and tilted his head up towards the ghostly contact, and Wilbur smiled and leaned over, placing a small kiss on the teen’s forehead and wishing him goodnight before exiting the tent with one final glance.

Down a little ways, Wilbur could see the soft glow of Logstedshire, it’s bare log exterior stretching up to meet the sky as the stars stared down into the little clearing inside the walls. The dead man made his way down the wooden path to the small living space, trying to ignore the many holes that littered the ground on either side of the walkway. Coming up to the small entrance, Wilbur examined the clean, almost peaceful space before going towards the small house that stood in the corner.

Phasing through the wooden door, Wilbur watched Ghostbur scribbling away in a journal, his only light source an almost useless candle. The quill scratched away methodically at the pages before it was put down, a small sigh escaping the normally over joyful celestial being.

“Having fun there?” Wilbur asked, tilting his head to the side. Ghostbur nearly jumped out of his grey skin and whirled around, pale blue eyes searching the small structure for the source of the unknown but all too familiar voice that intruded his mind. Wilbur blinked, wondering what was with the paranoid reaction. As Ghostbur quickly put away the journal he had been working in, Wilbur walked closer to him, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you like that. What’cha got there?” He asked, leaning a bit to try and see the name of the book, but it was shoved into a drawer and shut before he could see it.

“It’s, it’s nothing important, just a little project I’m working on.” Ghostbur said, turning in the stool and clasping his stained hands together in nervousness. Nothing important my ass Wilbur thought coldly. He hadn’t realized he had been uncomfortably silent until Ghostbur began to search the empty space again, worry creasing his pale face. The brunette sighed, “Fine then. None of my business,” he said, but then he dropped his voice to a dangerous tone, “but Tommy is my business. You watched what happened today, why didn’t you do anything?”

Ghostbur went quiet, obviously noting the way that Wilbur was almost growling his words, and he seemed to think over his response carefully, but not carefully enough, “Well, weren’t they just playing a game?” he asked innocently. This question was like a physical slap to the face, and Wilbur took a step back in recoil.

“A game? What fucking game would they be playing where Tommy’s shit gets blown to smithereens!?” Wilbur retorted, fire in his voice. Ghostbur shrunk back in his stool, looking down at his faded shoes as he messed with a piece of blue dye in his hands, “I-I don’t know. We’re on vacation so I thought it was a game that Dream and Tommy were playing.”

Vacation? If he could, Wilbur would simply deck the ghost right now for such an idiotic assumption, “You have to be joking Ghostbur. There’s no way you think this is some getaway resort. Have you seen all of the pits outside where Tommy’s stuff had been destroyed? What about the way that Dream is just breaking the poor kid from the inside out? How can you stand there and not do fucking anything ?” he said, clenching his fists. Ghostbur was certainly frightened at this point, “I-I don’t know! I just thought that, that Dream was trying to teach Tommy a little lesson! He’s always so chipper whenever I’m around!”

Wilbur grabbed the ghost by the shoulders, and the pale version of himself flinched at the staticy feeling, “I don’t understand how you can be so absolutely blind to how utterly destroyed that kid is. One of these days, if you don’t fucking do something about it, you’re gonna regret it.” he hissed, getting so close to the ghost that Ghostbur could distantly smell the scent of cigarettes and cedarwood, “You got me?” Wilbur spat.

Ghostbur nodded vigorously, and the musician roughly let go of his pathetic echo and swiftly left the small house, seething with rage. If he could, he'd throttle that son of bitch. A deep pit of hatred boiled in his stomach for that stupid mask, and all he wanted to do was murder the man and get Tommy as far away from here as possible. Fuck Dream. Fuck L’manburg. He was tired of seeing everybody using his little brother like some doormat, blaming all their issues on him and then throwing him aside like some old toy after everything he had done for them.

If Ghostbur wasn’t going to be there for him, he’d be damned if he wasn’t.

It had been a few weeks since the outburst he had with Ghostbur, and gladly the ghost had listened to at least a little of what the dead man had to say. Nowadays, it was rather rare that the echo wasn’t hanging around Tommy. It didn't matter if he was mining or attempting to find some food, the ghost was there with him, talking about random subjects or cracking small jokes that would make the tired teen smile. Sometimes the blonde would simply sit down with no warning, exhausted and trembling slightly from the malnourishment and hard labor, and Ghostbur would shove the blue dye into his blistered hands and offer him a spare carrot he sometimes had. It was just enough for him to get through the day.

While Wilbur was glad that Tommy was finally getting some help, even in the slightest, he still wished he could do more. It was agonizing only being able to sit on the sidelines and watch everything happen, but what else could you do when you’re totally dead and can barely interact with other people? Shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his trenchcoat, Wilbur watched on as Tommy and Ghostbur experienced a moment of silence. Dream hadn’t visited all day, and Ghostbur had convinced Tommy to follow him into the woods and sit down in a grassy clearing to relax for a bit before he went and practically burnt himself out in the mines.

A soft breeze blew across the clearing the two were seated in, Wilbur lazily drifting around the sunny area as Ghostbur made a blue flower crown. Tommy was laying down, his eyes closed as he soaked up the sun. He actually looked relaxed and at peace, but that didn’t take away the fact that his clothes were tattered, or that he was skinnier than he used to be, or that the bags under his eyes were rather dark.

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence before Ghostbur finished his crown and gently asked Tommy to sit up, who did so with an annoyed grumble. Once he did, the ghost placed the intricate crown on his head, and never did anything just belong like it did. The different shades of blues looked wonderful circling his golden curls, and somehow brought some of the blue back into the boy’s eyes. He looked up at what he could see, and reached a hand out to lightly nudge a stray leaf that poked out of the entanglement of stems.

Wilbur had paused in his drifting and watched as a small, and now unfortunately uncommon smile stretched across his tired face. The blonde faced his echo and thanked him for the gift. Ghostbur smiled back at him, telling him that it was no problem and how it looked wonderful on him. It really did.

Alas, moments like this never lasted for long.

Somewhere just out of the trees, the calling sound of Dream arriving and searching for Tommy made the blonde visibly slump in knowing what was going to happen. Begrudgingly, the blonde stood up, making sure the flower crown was still in place before dragging his feet out of the clearing and towards the treeline. Wilbur looked over at Ghostbur, who stayed in the clearing as he worked on another crown, and promptly headed towards the treeline with a frown. Despite hanging around the teen all the time, Ghostbur had a knack for just sticking back whenever Dream came into the picture, and it was rather annoying.

As he floated towards the edge of the treeline, he could hear what sounded like a bit of an argument, and he picked up the pace. When he finally made it to the treeline, he could see that just by the walkway Dream and Tommy were fighting about something. He couldn’t hear what, but both of them were visibly agitated. Then, as a form of aggression, Dream dug a two block deep hole and pointed at it whilst staring the blonde down with his gleaming white mask. The boy had gone quiet, staring down at the small hole before violently taking the few items out of his inventory and throwing them into the hole. Good thing he didn’t go mining.

Dream pointed at the crown on his head, and Tommy took a step back, shaking his head no. Wilbur could infer that the man had told Tommy that he had to put the crown in the hole as well. What the hell, it was just a flower crown. It’s not that big of a deal. Apparently it was a big deal, as the man made a grab for the headpiece, which Tommy quickly ducked out of the way. Wilbur could hear the, “Fuck you!” from where he was, and he smiled at the signs of Tommy’s old self shining through.

It was short lived though. Dream took out his shovel and promptly whacked the unarmed teen on the side of his leg, knocking him over with a cry. He stepped over to him and plucked the crown off his head, whispering something to the boy who was cradling his injured leg, before going back to the hole and dropping it in. An explosion followed soon after.

With nothing else left to be said apparently, Dream gave Tommy a small pat on his head before going back through the nether portal. Tommy laid there in the dirt, breathing heavily as rage burned in his eyes. Wilbur went to go to him, but he didn’t even get halfway over to him before he was stopped short in his tracks. Confused, he tried to move forward again, but it was like some world border was placed right in front of him. Growing frustrated by the second, Wilbur turned around and saw a thin silver thread connected to him that led straight back into the forest.

Whatever this was, it was keeping him from getting to Tommy, so with one last glance Wilbur began to follow the thread back into the woods. After a bit, he came back to Ghostbur, who was still in the clearing and finishing up his second flower crown. With a sense of dread, Wilbur realised that the thread led right to the echo of himself. Now he couldn’t stray too far from this idiot. With a huff, he marched over to Ghostbur, “Hey Ghostbur, get up. We gotta go help Tommy.” he said harshly, quickly catching the ghost’s attention, “Huh? Why? Is he hurt?”

“Yeah, now c’mon.” He said impatiently, his boot tapping silently in the dirt as the ghost rose to his feet, the unfinished flower crown clutched between his forever dyed fingers. The two moved quickly through the forest, arriving at the break in the trees in a matter of a couple of minutes. Tommy was still where he had fallen, but he was sitting up and examining his leg, a string of curses falling quietly from his lips. With Ghostbur closer now, Wilbur left the echo behind and crouched down beside the blonde. There was already a large dark bruise on the side of his leg, and the edge of the shovel had nicked his knee, a small line of blood running down his calf and leaving dark dots in the bright green grass.

Ghostbur came up beside Tommy, a worried look on his pale features, “Oh dear, your leg Tommy! Stay here, I’ll go get some bandages for you.” and with that statement, Ghostbur put the flower crown down and left down the path to Logstedshire to retrieve supplies. Meanwhile, Wilbur stayed crouched beside Tommy, watching helplessly as the teen did his best to keep the pain he felt off of his face, but that’s something inherently impossible for him to do; Tommy always wore his emotions on his sleeve like a badge of honor, and always would no matter what.

With a heavy sigh, Wilbur sat down beside his sibling, his shoulders sagging at how useless he was in the moment. All he wanted to do was help Tommy, but he can never seem to do that, huh? He couldn’t think of anything to say, so instead he put a hand around Tommy, who shivered again and glanced around, “Seriously what the fuck is that?” the teen hissed under his breath. Wilbur guessed he was referring to the strange feeling of his arm around his shoulders.

After a bit, Ghostbur came floating back from his little hut, carrying bandages and a small bottle of rubbing alcohol. Putting the items down in the grass, the ghost gently moved Tommy’s hands away from his injured leg and examined the damage he had taken. Ghostbur took a small breath and opened the bottle, pouring some on a small piece of gauze and swiping it over the affected area. Tommy hissed in pain and Ghostbur apologized profusely as he wrapped his leg up in the bandages. Wilbur murmured encouragement to the blonde, but he wasn’t sure if he heard him or just didn’t want to listen.

After it was fixed up, the ghost did his best to help Tommy to his feet and guide him to Logstedshire, saying how it would be safer if he stayed there for the night. Even though he complained the whole way, Tommy went into the small home with no hesitation and sank down into the bed in the corner. Sweat prickled the teen’s brow, and despite his eyes being closed Wilbur could tell that he couldn’t just fall asleep.

As his echo placed a blanket over the injured teen, Wilbur began to play a soft melody again like he had all those nights ago. Tommy was out cold in no time, and Ghostbur smiled to himself from the familiar tune as he gathered some spare food items he had so he could make Tommy something to eat when he woke up. Wilbur continued to play. It eased his nerves to do it.

Outside, the wind tugged on the incomplete flower crown, pulling it into the jagged hole in the ground.

Ghostbur had decided it was a good idea to go visit Technoblade. While Wilbur wanted to see his twin again, he wanted to stay and keep an eye on Tommy even more. But the ghost had made up his mind and was already drifting away from the area. Tommy had woken up for a moment, just long enough to eat the offered broth from Ghostbur before passing out again. Wilbur quickly ran his hand through those blonde curls one last time, the teen still fast asleep, before he was pulled through the wall and away from his struggling brother.

A growl came in his throat as he was dragged by the spirit like some leashed dog. Did they really have to visit the frozen tundra now? Why couldn’t they just wait until Tommy was in a better position, or persuade him to come with them? Hell, they could kidnap the boy and he wouldn’t care, at least he wouldn’t be by himself. But there was nothing he could do as he was pulled along by his echo, watching as the structure of Logstedshire became more and more distant.

“So what made you want to visit dear ol’ Techno?” Wilbur asked, crossing his arms once he had caught up to and floated along with his pale self.

“Well,” he said, his gaze not straying from ahead, “I just remembered that I had accidentally forgotten Friend at Techno’s, so we have to go get him of course. He must be worried about where I am right now.”

Wilbur groaned and turned over on his back, laying in the air as he moved along, his hands behind his head, “It’s just a sheep Ghostbur, it can’t worry about where you are.” he stated with a roll of his eyes. Ghostbur shook his head, “Friend isn’t just any sheep though. When I found him, he came right up to me instead of walking away like all the other sheep did! I knew right then he was special.”

Springy grass gave way to freezing ice, and soon enough they were in the chilly tundra. It was lightly snowing when they arrived in the bitingly cold biome, and unlike Ghostbur, who would melt at the touch of water and thus had to methodically dodge the falling flakes, Wilbur watched as the soft pieces of snow fell through his lounging body. It was quite the strange thing to watch.

After some time of trudging along the snow, Wilbur watched the sun set and wondered what happened to Tommy after they had left. Did he eat some more? Had he gone mining? Did Dream visit again? Does his leg feel better? None of these questions would be answered anytime soon, so Wilbur would have to wait until they got back, much to his disappointment. The stars twinkled, giggling down at the two ghostly figures that traversed the cold land before them, the wind swinging about the small flakes that still fell from the sky. Wilbur could see Ghostbur flinch every now and then when he was unable to dodge a snowflake, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Then, just over a small hill, the two could see the dim glow of a cabin, smoke rising from the chimney from a lit fire inside. Spotting the little home, Ghostbur picked up the pace, silently climbing the wooden stairs that led to the front door when he reached it. While he got ready to knock, Wilbur just let himself in--strolling through the door and into the cozy home. It’s not like anyone was gonna stop him.

Phil sat in front of the fireplace, facing away from the door as he slowly sipped a cup of what appeared to be tea. His large dark grey wings were draped over the chair, framing the man in quite a way, and Wilbur did his best to not take notice how one of them looked worse for wear. His dad looked comfortable, so he chose not to disturb him. Wilbur’s gaze moved to the small kitchenette window where the breakfast bar was, and he could see a single broad shoulder of his twin brother Technoblade peeking out; he was obviously in the middle of making something to eat for the two of them.

At the small noise of half real knuckles rapping at the door, the two men perked up, Techno stepping out of the kitchen and turning his red gaze towards the older of the two. Phil had turned slightly in his chair, looking over at the door with his cup still in his hand. He put the porcelain down, standing from his plush seat and making his way over to the door. Techno discreetly placed a hand on his broadsword, which was always strung at his hip, as Phil reached for the handle. The room held its breath for a moment, and the door swung open with a creak.

Ghostbur offered a little wave and a cheery greeting before asking if he could enter. “Yeah sure mate,” Phil said, stepping aside so the ghost could enter the home and shutting the spruce door once he did, “What brings you all the way out here?”

“Oh! Well, I forgot Friend over here, so I came to retrieve him and then return to Tommy.” Ghostbur said, sliding down to sit on the floor in front of the fire to watch the flames perform their song and dance.  Wilbur sat in the air off to one side, closest to the small doorway into the kitchen and hovering just behind Technoblade. At his echo’s explanation, he snorted mockingly, rolling his eyes as he said in a sarcastic tone, “Yeah because the sheep is in soo much danger here, we just had to get him as fast as possible.”

He wasn’t expecting anyone to pay him much attention, only receiving a small acknowledgement from Ghostbur with the slight turn of his head, which he anticipated. What confused Wilbur was when Techno turned his ear in his direction. Wilbur blanched, the conversation between Phil and Ghostbur about how Tommy was becoming muffled. Had his voice manifested just like that in Techno’s head? Just another voice instead of a trail of thoughts? Whatever the explanation, Wilbur clamped his mouth shut, staring at his twin intently. After so long of no one else being able to hear him properly, it felt wrong for Techno to hear him now. The first thing he wanted to say to him was an apology, not him talking mess about some farm animal-

His breath, if he had one, stuttered when the tall piglin turned towards him, scarlet irises looking just past where his eyes were, and it was the strangest feeling Wilbur had ever gotten. It was like he knew that Techno knew he was there, and he didn’t know if he should be overjoyed or terrified. Despite his mixed feelings, Wilbur floated a little closer to his twin and read the emotions that swirled in those deep pits of blood. There he saw confusion, determination and, and what was that? Relief? Worry? Anguish? Whatever it was, it was gone in a moment, and Techno heaved a heavy sigh.

Almost like he was injured, Wilbur slowly reached a hand out to Techno and placed it on his upper back. The staticy feeling made him draw back, almost flinching at the sensation. This sudden movement drew the attention of Phil, “Hey, you good Techno?” he asked, walking over to him after he had given Ghostbur a cup of tea. The pink haired man nodded, glancing over at the avian before searching around Wilbur’s general direction for a second. He ultimately gave up though, and walked into the kitchen, absentmindedly rubbing the spot where Wilbur had placed his hand before getting back to cooking what appeared to be potato stew.

Wilbur watched his twin for a moment, only retreating back to the living room when Techno glanced up due to the feeling of being watched. Floating over to Ghostbur, he whispered in his ear, “I think Techno knows I’m here.” The ghost shrugged, “Well yeah, I’m right here silly.” he whispered under his breath, taking a sip of the tea so as to not seem rude towards Phil, though it was pointless as the old man had moved into the kitchen to ask Techno what had him so perturbed.

He huffed, “No, I mean me as in Wilbur. Dead man stuck with you for now?” This seemed to get Ghostbur back, as he hummed in understanding before asking, “Is that why Techno was acting all strange?”

“Yeah I think so. It felt like he knew I was there, like whenever I talked earlier he actually heard me instead of it sounding like his own thoughts. I think it might have something to do with all the voices in his head? Maybe because they’ve been there for so long that intrusive thoughts aren’t in his own mind voice but as others, and mine came through as my own voice? I don’t know I’m grasping at straws here, but, but he heard me! Ghostbur he actually heard me!” Wilbur raised his voice in glee, gripping the bright yellow sweater in his hands as a wide smile came to his features. Ghostbur giggled, his pale eyes drifting over where he believed Wilbur was, before focusing on the small window that led into the kitchen. There, two sets of eyes were watching the ghost in curiosity and confusion.

“Um, we have a bit of an audience.” Ghostbur hummed, taking his eyes away from the men and back to the fire as he nonchalantly sipped his tea again. At this mention, Wilbur paused and let go of his echo, looking over at the kitchen where a silent conversation was taking place. In a bout of curiosity, the brunette made his way to the small window, sitting down on a brown leather stool as he leaned on the small counter, head in hand as he listened in.

“-start talking to himself. Ghostbur’s never done that before Phil. Something’s up.” Techno rumbled lowly, facing the avian who had taken up the duty of stirring the pot of stew to keep it from burning. If Wilbur could smell, he bet it’d smell incredible and his mouth would water at the thought. But that wasn’t the thing he was focused on. It was the look on Phil’s face, his brow furrowed and lips drawn in a thin white line, “I don’t know Techno, doesn’t that seem a bit of a stre-?”

Phil was cut off by Techno’s hand, brought up to silently tell him to go quiet, “What is it?” Phil whispered, greatly confused by how his oldest was acting at the moment.

“We’re being watched right now.” Techno said gruffly, eyes slowly dragging across what he could see of the living room from the kitchen. Wilbur was completely still as those scarlet eyes dragged over his face. They focused on something for a moment--but only for a moment-- and the piglin hybrid blinked, narrowing his eyes as he tried to find whatever he had just seen.

Phil placed a lid over the steeping pot, “By what?”

Techno huffed in response, a reluctant admission to that he didn’t know. Just then Ghostbur popped up in the same seat Wilbur was in, scaring the hell out of the dead man as he practically fell off of the stool, even though he technically couldn’t. It was an awful feeling with Ghostbur literally inside his body, so he moved out of the way. “Hi friends! What’re you guys doing?” he asked cheerfully. Two sets of eyes fell on the ghost, tense shoulders unwinding and throats being cleared.

“Nothing.” Techno said.

“Just making stew.” Phil spoke at the same time.

They glanced at each other, a silent conversation passing between them in the span of a second. Then Phil chuckled, and removed the top from the large pot, its contents bubbling. His hand reached over and turned the knob, cutting off the supply of gas to the stove. Techno retrieved three wooden bowls and placed them down beside Phil, who picked up one at a time and filled them with the gorgeous dinner.

“Oh! Well that sounds lovely! Can I have a bowl?” his echo asked innocently, eyeing the still steaming contents of the bowls as they were set out on the counter in front of him.

“Of course Wilbur, that’s why we got three bowls out,” Phil said, his gaze still fixed on the ladle in his hand as he filled the last bowl. Wilbur--real Wilbur--stiffened at his father’s slip up.

“Ghostbur,” the ghost reminded patiently, politely pulling a bowl towards him. Yeah he didn’t need to eat, but this looked absolutely delicious. Tommy would’ve…

“Ah, sorry Ghostbur.”Phil apologized, a look of grief flashing in his eyes, but it was quickly suppressed when the lid was replaced by Techno, who had retrieved utensils for the group of them before walking around the doorway and taking a seat on the other end of the overhanging counter. The avian sat between the two, massive wings resting behind them as they ate.

“It’s okay Phil! You know, I’m not sure I’ve told you about Friend yet!” Ghostbur exclaimed, waving his spoon about absently.

“No I don’t think you have. I’d love to hear about him.” Phil chuckled, a warm smile on his face as he listened to his deceased sons’ one sided conversation about his beloved blue sheep.

Wilbur floated into the kitchen and sat on the counter opposite of the nook, watching the trio eat and talk amongst themselves. He wished he could join in with them--cutting up and recalling old memories and laughing until his head spun--but obviously that was what he would call wishful thinking. So instead he just observed, a small smile on his face; if he did his best to ignore the way that Techno would sometimes look up into the kitchen if his eyes lingered on his pink head for too long, would that really hurt anyone?

The snow fell heavier, and the stars continued their dance with pieces of ice that could be a refreshment or a slap to the face. It was a peaceful night.

They have been here for far too long. That one night had turned into multiple, and Wilbur was getting more and more restless and anxious the longer they stayed away from Tommy. Something in his gut was telling him that something was wrong, and he was practically begging Ghostbur to leave at this point, but it was always to no avail. The stupid ghost kept getting distracted by things Phil or Techno were doing, or his ridiculous blue sheep, or would just simply forget their conversation.

He had had enough.

If Ghostbur wasn’t going to listen to him, maybe Technoblade could. Despite him having done his best to stay away from his twin, he was desperate now for his blind echo to go back to his younger brother. Should he probably have thought about what he was going to say? Yeah. Was it a good idea to make up some totally believable excuse as to why Ghostbur had to leave as soon as possible? Absolutely!

But did he do any of these things? No. The brunette was too caught up in trying to move along the pestering ghost, and thus did not think that far ahead.

Techno was upstairs in his room, polishing one of his many swords. Alone. Perfect. Phasing through the floor, Wilbur bobbed over to his twin and stood just in front of him. The pink haired man was sitting on the bed, so Wilbur was towering over him.

“Techno.” Wilbur said, a bit of an edge in his voice, but his twin didn’t react, “ Techno.” he tried again, but still nothing, “Technoblade I know you can hear me, so if you don’t respond I’m gonna start calling you Techie all over again like I did the day of your 21st birthday.” It was a stupid thing to hold over his brother’s head, but it definitely worked, the piglin’s head snapping up as a look of deep confusion burrowed into his features.

Wilbur didn’t know, but the voices in the blade’s head were going a little something like this:

Wilbur?

OMG WILBUR SCOOT???

Blood for the Blood God

Technoooo I dropped my bagel :(

E

Wait how the heck is Wilbur here I thought he blew himself up????

TECHNO NOTICE ME

No idiot Phil killed him

Apples am I right chat?

THAT STILL DOESN”T EXPLAIN HOW HE”S IN OUR HEADSPACE

Techbro!

Wilby my beloved

WILLBBUURRRR

“Wil?” Techno said quietly--almost hesitantly-- which was a very strange thing to hear. The brunette gulped; no turning back now. There was so much he wanted to say to his brother--his twin, his other half--but the acknowledgement turned his tongue to rubber, and he couldn’t seem to say anything for a moment, making them sit in silence for a moment too long.

Techno sighed deeply and looked back down at the weapon, his shoulders slumping as he dragged the cleaning rag across the brilliant blade. This sign of defeat the pink haired warrior showed finally got his mouth to work with him.

“Hey Techno, it’s been a while huh?” he said, his voice ringing with emotion.

The Blade looked back up, his eyes wide as he searched what appeared to be his empty room, “Where are you?”

“Standing right in front of you. I can see that terrible balding spot on your head from here.” Wilbur chuckled, trying his best not to sound like he was about to cry.

A low breathy laugh escaped the piglin hybrid as he looked up; he had practically memorized where the brunette stood, and Wilbur felt a tremor in his body when Techno seemingly locked eyes with him. A shaky laugh left him, “I’ve missed you Tech.”

“I, I have too Wil. How long have you been here?” Techno asked, staring at that one spot in the ceiling where he swore he could sometimes see the glint of watery brown eyes.

“The entire time Ghostbur has been here. I’m stuck with the bastard,” Techno opened his mouth to say something, but Wilbur hurriedly interrupted, “but Techno, look, I know we just reunited and all, but Ghostbur has to leave and go back to Tommy. I’m worried about him.”

Techno’s eyes turned steely, “But you just said that you’re stuck with him, and if he left then so would you. Is Tommy in trouble?” he asked. Wilbur sighed, “No? Yes. Probably. Look he wasn’t doing too well when we left, and I just wanna go and check on him, but Ghostbur keeps ignoring me.”

“So Ghostbur can hear you too?”Techno asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Wilbur nodded, then remembered that Techno couldn’t see him, “Yeah, he can.”

“So he was talking to you a couple nights ago. Can anyone else hear you?” he questioned. “No,” Wilbur said dejectedly, “If I try and talk to anyone else they just think that I’m an intrusive thought. I think that my voice doesn’t register as my voice, but in their own like, mind voice or whatever.”

Techno hummed, looking down as he moved the blade off of his lap and onto the soft red sheets, “How come you haven’t tried to talk to me sooner if you knew I could hear you normally then?”

Wilbur clenched his hands at that. What was he supposed to tell him? That he didn’t want to intrude in the good times that he was having? That if he did while he was around Phil the old man would get suspicious? Or simply that he didn’t want to talk to him just yet? He sighed, deciding to move away from the subject, “We’re getting off topic. All I’m asking  you to do is ask Ghostbur to go check on Tommy since it’s been awhile, and then we can come right back and you and I can keep having this lovely conversation, okay?”

Techno eyed him, even though technically he couldn’t, and with a heavy sigh he nodded, “Fine Wil, but whenever you get back I want answers.”

The dead man deflated in relief, “Thank you Techno, this means a lot to me.”

Technoblade hummed in response, standing from the bed to replace the weapon in the wardrobe it had come from. Wilbur went to float out the door but paused, looking over at his twin silhouetted against the evening sun that shone through the open window.

“Techno?” Wilbur said. His twin looked up, searching the room for a moment before somehow settling on where he was, “Don’t tell Da-Phil. Don’t tell Phil about this, I don’t want him to get hurt more. Please?”

Technoblade nodded, sheathing the sword and putting it away. “Thanks.” Wilbur said with a small smile, and walked silently down the hallway to go check on how his father was doing.

If Techno stopped just in front of the bed before leaving his room and inhaled the air deeply, taking note of the slight smell of cigarettes and cedarwood that lingered where his dead brother had stood, no one needed to know.

Thank End they were finally leaving. That night, Techno had gone up to Ghostbur and had a small discussion about Tommy. Even though the admission of how they had left the teen alone was hard on the ghost, Techno had convinced him to go check on him the next morning. All the while Wilbur had been practically bouncing in glee.

It was going to be a mostly sunny day, the clear sky shining down on the two ghosts as they trudged across the white terrain, one of them holding a leash with a royal blue sheep attached to it. Wilbur floated along on his back again, staring up into the endless blue depths of midday above them as he wondered how Tommy had been these last couple days. He hoped that nothing had strayed too far from the usual, regrettably the ‘usual’ being Tommy’s stuff blown up in a small hole in the ground and Dream manipulating the poor boy, but as long as nothing extreme happened while they were away, like Tommy accidentally breaking a limb, or worse, getting murdered, Wilbur could handle the destroyed items and honey coated sharp words.

As snow gave way to shoots of bright grass, Wilbur turned over on his stomach, examining his echo as he moved along, floating just an inch off the ground. The ghost had been quiet most of the trip, possibly because Wilbur hadn’t said anything and he had forgotten he always had company. It was fine though, Wilbur quite liked the silence. Although the day promised to be bright, he could see grey storm clouds brewing on the horizon. It was going to rain later that evening.

“You think Tommy’s alright?” Wilbur asked suddenly, breaking the wall of silence between them. Ghostbur nodded with utmost certainty, “Oh I do yes. And if he isn’t, then I’m sure having Friend with him will make him feel better.”

Wilbur chuckled at his enthusiasm. He was so naive and optimistic. Maybe he missed this part of him just a little.

As they neared where tnret should be, the clouds moved in with a great speed, propelled by a backwind that had shoved at the storm aggressively. A piece of lead formed in Wilbur’s gut the closer they got. It was still silent, but eerily silent now. No birds were singing, the wind wasn’t sighing anymore but growling at their feet, even the earth seemed to have stilled at whatever had happened here. Even the ever optimistic Ghostbur seemed to sense the change in the atmosphere. Something was wrong.

Then, just up ahead, a thin trail of smoke could be seen making its way into the continuously darkening sky. His still heart plummeted to his toes. Coming up on the white wool tent, Wilbur saw that there was no tent to come up to. A large crater sat where the temporary living space had been. What happened here? Where was Tommy?

Part of Wilbur hoped that the teen had finally gotten tired of his treatment here and ran away, destroying any memory of this godforsaken place, but that was a very small hope that started to wither away when he noticed pieces of a diminished jukebox laying in the grass. Tommy wouldn’t have destroyed the jukebox, even if it was from a bad place.

While Wilbur examined the remains of the machine, Ghostbur continued on, hesitantly stepping onto the wooden pathway that used to invoke even the slightest bit of joy in the blonde; the Prime path as he would call it. Now it felt like a walkway leading to a funeral. If Tommy wasn’t in his tent, then the only place he possibly could be was the small clearing surrounded by stripped oak logs.

Noticing that his echo was leaving him behind, Wilbur spared the broken box one last glance before floating over to the specter, looking around at the barren land around them as they went down the foreboding path together. Then Logstedshire came into view. Or at least, what was left of it.

Snapped logs stretched into the sky like pitchforks, jagged against the threatening clouds that growled menacingly. And that’s when he saw him. Crouched in front of the massive hole where Ghostbur’s temporary living quarters had been was Tommy, his shirt torn and soot covering half his body.

Wilbur shot forward, leaving the frozen ghost to himself as he rushed over to his younger brother. “Tommy? Tommy what happened?” Wilbur asked frantically, watching as the blonde’s shoulders trembled and tears streamed down his face.

“I’m done,” he hissed under his breath, “I’m fucking done with this shit. If no one wants me around then fine.”

Wilbur went to wipe away the neverending tears that fell down his face, but his gloved hand passed right through him as he stood up, “Wait, Tommy what do you mean? What are you doing? Tommy!” The brunette yelled, going to try and grab his arm and stop him from walking away, but his grasp went right through the teen again. He cursed and went after him. If he couldn’t stop him physically, maybe he could persuade him.

Ghostbur was nowhere in sight, watching from just behind Logstedshire where a broken log provided an overhang. He observed as Tommy walked down the path with a bent sense of determination. Determination for the wrong thing.

Wilbur scrambled after the teen, ignoring the soft drops of rain that began to fall from the sky as he tried to keep up the brisk pace the teen had set, a steely but fractured look on his face, “Tommy what about going to Techno’s instead? How about that, yeah? I bet he’d be thrilled to see you! Big brother Blade, remember?” he said with a hopeful smile, but his words got twisted when they reached the boy’s ears. His warped mind turned Wilbur’s gentle offers into sneering taunts, and pained tears sprung to his blue-grey eyes.

Picking a spot next to the still smoking remains of tnret, Tommy began to build up with the few mismatched blocks he had on hand.

“Tommy, what are you doing? Get down Tommy, there’s gonna be a storm soon, it’s not safe up there--Tommy stop going up!” Wilbur yelled up at the teen, watching in anguish as his jagged tower stretched closer to the grey sky.

Wilbur was getting desperate now, not liking one bit what he thought his younger brother was planning to do, “Tommy please get down, I promise I won’t leave again! C’mon Toms you’re getting awfully high, I need you to get back down here!” he pleaded.

The dead man went to follow the teen up the tower, but a despicable silver thread appeared, halting his progress before he could even get six feet off the ground. Ghostbur was leaving the area, not wanting to watch what was happening anymore and instead choosing to retreat into the trees.

“No-” Wilbur choked, looking down at the line, “No no no Ghostbur stop! Get back here you fucking coward! Tommy! TOMMY STOP!” He screamed, gloved hands reaching for the base of the tower to hold onto--to stay put, to not go anywhere, to not abandon his sibling in his greatest time of need--but it was futile and pointless. His hands slipped right through the cobblestone as his body was dragged away from his brother, his right hand man, the glaring sun to his brooding moon, and he had never felt more helpless.

The sky crashed, lightning glaring down at the people in the clearing and silhouetting the form of a bruised and broken teen, standing at the top of a large and crudely built tower.  Wilbur edged closer to the tree line, his feet unsuccessfully digging into the dirt to halt his retreat. He grabbed at the line, trying to sever it so he could stop having to follow the cowardly ghost and go back to help his clearly struggling brother. But like everything else going wrong, and maybe even unsurprisingly, the line didn’t budge.

He was running out of options, and fast. His mind going a million kilometers per minute, all Wilbur could do was turn around and keep trying to persuade Tommy to get down, but his pleas were cut short when the sight of blonde hair disappeared over the edge of the dizzyingly high tower. And it was silent for a moment as Wilbur processed what he just saw; that is, until a guttural scream rang out from his chest, thrashing against the silver hook, doing his damnedest to go back to that hell hole of a place. There was no way he just...he wouldn’t... oh my fucking god there’s way he just did what he did.

Please…

Please let this all be a nightmare…

Wilbur begged the universe to wake him up so he could go give Tommy a big hug and hang out with him in his room and spend all day doing whatever he wanted to do, but the universe was a cruel thing, and although it looked down on the man with pity, what’s done was done.

Over the howl of the wind, a haunting and heartbreaking cry echoed through the forest as a dead man died all over again, grieving the collapse of his sun--a moon now only drifting alone in space.

What Wilbur had failed to see as the teen plummeted down the side of his damnation was the change of heart. He missed as the blonde aimed for a pool of water instead of the dirt. He missed watching him rise from the small lake, rather unscathed, and leave his exile. He missed the spark returning to his eyes, and the way he walked forward with a new, better sense of determination.

If only he had stayed a little longer…

Wilbur stayed silent the entire trip back to Techno’s, staying as far away from Ghostbur as the silver deadweight would allow him. The entire time Wilbur floated along aimlessly, staring at the direction they had come from as he was dragged farther and farther away from it. The dead man brought with him a trail of despair so heavy even the local animals felt it, scurrying away as soon as the brunette passed them in his blank state.

Ghostbur felt it the most. Even though it hurt to feel that level of sadness for as long as he did, he was unable to forget it like he normally did, and so there was a dull throbbing behind his temples as the small wooden cabin came into view. Maybe the neverending sadness came from Wilbur, who hadn’t spoken a single word to the echo since they left Logstedshire. He had thought it was for the best, but maybe he made the wrong decision. It felt heavy on his chest at that thought, but he did his best to put on a joyful smile and brighten his face when he knocked on the door.

This time Techno was the one to answer the door, looking down at his brother’s ghost before stepping aside with a small hello to let him in. The atmosphere shifted in the cabin once Ghostbur stepped inside. It was a sort of heaviness, or a crackling tension that ran electric in the air with how strained it was. Phil was sitting down in his red chair again, reading a book, but his wings puffed up and he turned his head; the book was placed on the table without the bookmark.

“Ghostbur? What’s wrong? What happened?” the avian questioned, standing up and making his way to the struggling specter, who waved his hand, “Nothing’s wrong Phil! I’m doing quite, quite wonderful actually!” he said cheerfully, but it wasn’t genuine. Phil frowned.

They stood there, looking at one another thoughtfully, pale blue eyes staring into deep oceans of wisdom and patience, and his thin wall started to crumble. Phil watched with a saddened look as Ghostbur’s smile faltered, his lip trembling as he did his best to choke back the tears in his eyes. He didn’t want to get burned by them. He didn’t…

Hiccup.

Ghostbur’s unnaturally blue tears streamed down his face as he looked down, gingerly brushing his fingers across his steaming cheeks. Why was he crying again? Why was there this suffocating pit in his stomach and a heavy feeling in his chest and a pounding headache that just wouldn’t go away? He couldn’t remember the reason as to why he felt so horrible, but he hurt anyway and didn’t resist when Phil pulled him into a hug.

Burying his face into the green robe, his frail body trembled with the effort of the sobs, trying his best to focus on the hand rubbing his back and the comforting words being mumbled next to his ear, but it was difficult when all he saw were dark clouds, lightning flashing and blonde hair whipping in the wind and desperate cries that echoed into the night.

Phil threw Techno a concerned glance, mind boggled on why the ghost of his son had shown up late at night and is now breaking down in his arms. Techno shrugged, just as confused as he was. He went upstairs to retrieve a spare piece of blue dye Ghostbur had given him. He hadn’t seen the ghost clutching it, so he figured he was fresh out. Opening a drawer in his desk, he rifled through it with a tense look on his face.

“He left him.”

Techno froze at the distant sound of his dead brother, his hand stilling around a decorative pen that had been carelessly tossed in with all the other miscellaneous items. Slowly, he turned his red gaze to the door, which was now open--he had closed it when he entered, a force of habit.

“What?” he asked, trying to find the glint of brown eyes that he would sometimes catch that would indicate where Wilbur was, but he couldn’t see anything. Instead, the overwhelming smell of foul cigarettes and freshly cut cedarwood enveloped him. It was overpowering, and Techno went to take a step back to escape it, but his leg hit the desk he was up against.

“He left Tommy behind, Techno”

Techno could hear over the roar of the voices in his head the anguish in his voice, but also the seething rage that lathered his words. He searched the empty space still, but his darting gaze was halted when he felt the staticy feeling of what felt like two thin hands gripping his shoulders.

“Techno he, he left Tommy behind. And I couldn’t,” Wilbur paused, his voice breaking in what sounded like sobs, ”I couldn’t do anything.”

“Wilbur, what are you talking about? What happened to Tommy?” he asked, concern evident in his tone as he stared blankly ahead, still attempting to catch some sign of where the brunette’s eyes were. A split second glint of water caught his attention, and his sharp eyes caught the sparkle of a tear running down a disturbed face for just a moment. Then he caught his brother’s gaze, and it lasted for longer than just a second. Techno sucked in a breath as he caught glimpses of the trouble, anger, and despair that roiled in those dark brown depths.

In his peripheral vision, he could see reddish brown hair under an auburn beanie, the upturned collar of a milky brown trench coat, the dull yellow sweater that almost matched Ghostbur’s, the well worn gloves that held his shoulders tightly and trembled. He could just barely see Wilbur’s face wrinkle in a grimace, his face glittering with tears as he prepared his answer, “Tommy’s, Tommy’s gone.” he choked out.

Something like a sword seemed to pierce his chest at those words, and his whole body tensed up as he stared at his twin, his other half that he hadn’t seen in months now. He looked just like the day he was slain. Techno opened his mouth to say something, but movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. His gaze tore from what little he could see of Wilbur and turned towards the door. There stood Phil, staring at him with concern and and something akin to confusion.

“Techno? Who are you talking to?” Phil asked, stepping through the open door and into his room, his wings shuffling a bit as he adjusted them to not drag against anything.

Techno glanced back at where Wilbur had been, but there was no sign of his deceased brother anymore, the staticy feeling that had enveloped his shoulders gone, but the lingering smell of cigarettes and wood clung to his clothes. He stayed silent, turning around and going back through the drawer. Wilbur had not wanted him to tell Phil about him, and he understood why. The grief the man had gone through after he killed his son was immeasurable, and he didn’t want him to go through that pain all over again at the thought of his little music boy roaming his home, just out of reach and yet so tangible.

Instead he did his best to dodge the question, taking his time looking through the small drawer before retrieving a piece of the blue dye. Sparing Phil a glance, he shook his head and left the room, heading back downstairs to give the still trembling spirit his beloved blue.

In the empty room, Phil’s brow furrowed at Techno’s strange behavior before he went to leave the room. A prickling sensation sat on the back of his neck, the feeling of being intently watched heavy on his consciousness, and he paused at the door for one more glance around the room. The smell of cedarwood was just palpable, and it only added to his confusion. With a shake of his head and a heavy sigh, the avian exited the room to follow his oldest.

Over in the farthest corner from the door, the one right next to the desk, Wilbur stood rigid, his fingers digging crescents into his palms as he eased himself into letting out the breath he was holding--even though he didn’t have to breath.

With heavy eyes, Wilbur looked down at his hands, recounting the many cigarettes he had rolled while in Pogtopia, his fingers now stained ashen grey from how often he did it. The others had always scolded him for the bad habit he had picked up, but he never found it in himself to care. The only times he did care was when Tommy would give him that look, the one of deep dismay and concern while he focused on the blue smoke that rose from his lips. Whenever he caught that look, he made sure to snuff out the paper and stash it for later. He didn’t want Tommy to pick up on his habit.

Tommy was always looking out for him, but was Wilbur ever looking out for Tommy? Tommy was…

He was…

The palms of his hands dug into his eyes as more tears sprung to his eyes, threatening to spill once more. Tommy was too bright for this earth. They didn’t deserve him at all. If he was here he’d probably make some joke about how he looked while he cried, or try to divert his attention to something else. Tommy was always trying to make others feel better, but no one really ever did that for him, casting him out and deciding to leave him to the sharks.

Wilbur bit back the sob that crawled up his throat, sinking down to the floor and curling up in the corner as he thought about all the things he could’ve done to prevent this.

The day had stopped shining with the disappearance of golden hair and striking blue eyes.

The night grew colder.

Wilbur had decided to stay up in Techno’s room for the rest of the night, watching with exhausted red-rimmed eyes as his brother dragged himself through the door, a yawn forming from his mouth as he slid onto the comfy looking bed after he took his boots off. A glance at the clock showed it to be nearing three in the morning.

He listened as his breaths got deeper, signifying that he had fallen asleep, and the brunette rose from the corner he had been in, going over to his twin and leaning over him. A stray pink hair laid across his face, and Wilbur gently moved it out the way, a soft look coming to his distressed features. He sat down on the bed, watching Techno sleep peacefully. While Wilbur didn’t need sleep, he couldn’t help feeling like he wanted to rest just for tonight so he could forget about everything for even just a moment.

He laid down, his head resting on the pillow but not leaving an indention in the fabric, and faced away from Techno to stare out the window over the desk at the night sky.

As he allowed himself to drift off, he failed to notice the slight rumble that came from Technoblade’s chest as he fell deeper into sleep from the sense that his sibling was nearby.

When Wilbur woke up the next morning, Techno was already gone, the bed made and the tweeting of birds coming from outside. Checking the clock on the wall, Wilbur noted that it was close to nine in the morning. Maybe everyone was already downstairs having breakfast?

Rising from the bed, Wilbur went down through Techno’s floor, sliding into the empty kitchen. There were dishes in the sink, so someone did eat, but now there was no one in the house. Not even Ghostbur was inside.

He scrunched his nose up. Wilbur didn’t think he could talk to Ghostbur right now, especially after what he did yesterday, but he needed to know where Techno and Phil went. Passing into the living room, he was about to pass through the door when the sight of a small paper on the coffee table caught his attention.

Confused slightly, Wilbur made his way over and looked down at the small note that read:

Dear Will,

I’m not sure where you went, so I figured I’d leave this behind just in case you came back. Phil and I left to get some stuff from the Nether, so we’ll be back by either tonight or tomorrow morning. And don’t worry about Phil reading this, I’m writing this after he left to go get the horses ready so you’ll be fine. I’ll make sure to be in the house first to get rid of this note, but if in some way you can then go for it. I’ll see you later bud.

Sincerely,

Techno.

Ah, so they won’t be back all day. That means it was just him and his echo for now. Speaking of that nuisance, where was he? Walking over to the front window, Wilbur peered out the panes down onto the snowy lawn. No sign of him.

He hummed distractedly, wandering downstairs and examining the villagers that hung out down there before he heard an echoy laugh from outside the doors. Turning his gaze to where the sound came from, Wilbur walked towards the stone wall and peered his head through, looking around the white plateau for signs of the ghost. There, just off to the right and hovering by the automatic farm, was Ghostbur and Friend. The specter was holding tufts of grass in his hand, allowing the animal to eat from his cold palm and giggling every now and then if he was grazed by its tongue.

The brunette rolled his eyes and went back inside, going back up to where he felt most comfortable in the house: Techno’s room. At least he knew where his echo was now. Sitting down on the bed, Wilbur heaved a sigh and closed his eyes, listening to the sound of the wind as it wove its way into the wooden supports for the tough cabin. Hopefully today could be quiet, so he could sit around and do nothing and try his best to ignore the rolling storm of thoughts that sat at the back of his head.

The sound of a glass bottle dropping downstairs made him inhale in pure annoyance.

Wilbur cracked an eye open, groaning loudly as he floated off the bed. He didn’t feel like going through the floor again--it felt weird sometimes--so he just went the normal route. What the hell was that moron doing now? And with Techno’s potions of all things?

Descending down the line of ladders, Wilbur stepped into the chest filled room with a huff, “Ghostbur, what the hell are you doing now-?”

Wilbur stopped short.

He was 14 again, waking up groggy as hell in the middle of the night when his door creaked open. He sat up, rubbing his eyes as he squinted into the darkness. Just barely, he could see the silhouette of a small child with untameable blonde hair and a cow plush tucked tightly under his arm.

“What the-? Tommy? What are you doing, it’s like two in the morning,” he said sluggishly, and even though he asked his baby brother what was wrong, he already knew what happened based on how the brunette could see the seven year old trembling from where he was.

“I uh, I had a nightmare, and I was wondering if, uhm, if I could stay in here with you.” he said timidly, picking at the edge of his nightshirt while he stared down at the floor. With a sigh, Wilbur scooted over in his bed and patted the sheets, “C’mon.”

The boy practically ran over, clambering onto the bed and getting himself situated under the quilt. Wilbur laid on his side, his head propped up on his hand, “You wanna talk about your nightmare so it doesn’t try and bite you in the butt again?” he asked, a bit of humor in his voice that gained a small smile from the child.

The smile died away as he began to recall the frightening dream though, “Well, I remember that I was living in a tent, like a cool traveler, and there was a green man there who was my friend. Or, at least I think he was. I had these massive wings, like so big! And I wanted to fly around really badly but the green man didn’t want me to, so I did it in secret. But he caught me doing it and got really mad at me, so he,” Tommy gulped, his little hands trembling as he clutched the stuffed animal tighter, “He took away my wings. That’s when I woke up.”

“Oh Tommy,” Wilbur gently said, gathering up the child in his arms and hugging him close, carding his hand through his hair to calm him down, “If that ever happened, I would never let the green man get away with it.”

Tommy looked up at him with watery blue eyes, his lip quivering, “Promise?”

“Promise.” Wilbur said with a reassuring smile, closing his eyes and rubbing small circles on the child’s back as they fell asleep.

Wilbur would go on to break that promise.

And it was like the tables had turned, Wilbur walking into Tommy’s room looking for comfort but not wanting to be a bother as he stared at his should be dead baby brother while he dug his hand into another chest, a sort of jitteriness to his movements. Wilbur’s old and tattered trench coat practically swallowed his form, gathering on the floor in a small pile where he crouched.

“ Tommy .” he breathed, tears gathering in his eyes. The small whisper of his name made the teen whirl around, dark eyes blazing over all the surfaces around him as he tensed up like he was preparing to fight. The jumpiness almost hurt Wilbur physically to see his Tommy reduced to an anxiety filled mess.

“It’s okay, there’s no one here that’ll hurt you.” he reassured, stepping towards the blonde. The reaffirmation got the teen to unwind, sighing and turning back towards the chests of goodies. Wilbur stood next to him, taking in the sunken cheeks, his jutting bones and overly pale skin. He looked awful.

Tommy then paused in his searching, tilting his head and sniffing the air curiously. The bridge of his nose scrunched up, and he shook his head.

“Wonder if Tech smokes now,” he muttered under his breath, pulling out a few pieces of bread and stuffing them into his small bag, “Hope he doesn’t, I don’t want two smoking siblings. Not very pog if you ask me.” he said to himself.

Wilbur sucked in a breath. Did he really smell like the soul cigarettes? Wow, that’s an awful thing to smell like, but it makes sense. He glanced down at his grey fingertips for a thoughtful moment, only to look back up at the trailing sight of Tommy disappearing up the ladder. Wilbur quickly flew upstairs, watching in dismay as Tommy put his hand over the door handle. He was about to leave again. And go where? He had no idea, and the thought that Tommy was going to go somewhere where he couldn’t follow terrified him.

“Wait! Why don’t you just stay the night? There’s no one home right now.” Wilbur said, choosing to be the hopeful voice in the back of his head. Tommy paused, staring down at the handle. He kept going, knowing his attention was caught, “You remember how Phil and Techno would go out on adventures for days or even weeks at a time, so obviously they won’t be here for a while,” he lied, “so why don’t you just stay for a night?”

Tommy hummed in thought, “But what if today is their last day out and they come back? My luck has been pretty shit lately, and I don’t think they’d be too thrilled to see me,” he said in a sour but hurt tone, going to open the door again.

Wilbur panicked, “Uh! The chances of that happening are pretty slim you know! They could be gone for a whole month, so one night here wouldn’t hurt anybody. You’ve been walking all day so the least you could do is rest. You could even go through Techno’s room! You’ve always wanted to.” he said, laying the piece of bait out in hopes Tommy would take it.

The universe decided to be kind to the dead man today, the brunette watching in overbearing relief as the blonde smiled at the suggestion and let go of the door, “Yeah, one night wouldn’t hurt I guess. I wonder what crazy shit the Blade keeps up there.” he said, climbing up the ladder and going straight over to his twins’ room.

Wilbur followed behind him, a small smile on his face as he watched the teen drop his bag on the floor and topple onto the bed. A joyous but muffled laugh came from him as he curled up on the sheets, “Man, I haven't laid in an actual bed in,” he lifted his head and started counting silently on his fingers, “a long fuckin’ time. Shit.” he said with a humored huff. He wormed his way up the bed, leaning over to slide his well worn shoes off his feet and toss them across the room before dramatically flopping his dirty head onto the fluffy pillow with a content sigh.

“What about taking a shower before you fall asleep? You smell like actual dirt, gremlin.” Wilbur suggested, grinning a bit at the term of endearment. Tommy groaned into the pillow, “Five more minutes.”

Wilbur sighed and sat down next to the teen, placing a slightly shaky hand on his head, “Five more minutes,” he echoed. Absently, Tommy placed his fingers over where the brunette rested his gloved hand, scratching his hair where the staticy feeling resided with a thoughtful hum.

They stayed like that for a couple minutes, Wilbur keeping his hand where it was and trying his best not to cry because he was here and alive and finally getting the break he deserved all while Tommy had his face half buried in his arm and the pillow, one hand still rubbing the strangely cold spot on his head.

Wilbur then removed his hand, watching as the blonde had started to drift off to sleep with a fond look, before he poked his head, “You need to shower.” he said, a smile evident in his voice.

A tired sigh came from the red pillow, the skinny hand that had been rubbing lazy circles in his head stilling and falling over to dangle over the edge of the bed. Then the teen sat up with a grunt, rubbing his eyes and blinking, “Fine fine fine, fucking hell.” he grumbled, standing up and walking over to the wardrobe nestled in the corner. He pulled the doors open and rummaged through Techno’s things, a focused look on his face. His searching hands went low, pulling out boots and clothes that had fallen off of hangers, before a triumphant laugh escaped the dark space. Tommy came out of the small space with a medium sized box in his hands. On the side was a single piece of tape labeled Tommy’s things. The items in this box were things that Phil had bought for the blonde, mainly extra clothes, as the old man had planned on getting Tommy to move in with them. From what Wilbur could remember, Phil had chatted with the teen for a moment about how there was space for him to stay, and that he already had extra clothes for the winter waiting for him. Ultimately, Tommy had turned him down, but had apparently retained the knowledge of having spare clothes in Techno’s home.

Dropping the box onto the floor, he crouched down and opened the flaps, plunging his hand in and pulling out a red hoodie and a clean pair of jeans. Tommy stood once he had collected his clean clothes and shook off Wilbur’s coat, dropping it onto the bed and making his way to the connected bathroom. The door closed with a click, and a moment later Wilbur could hear the shower turn on.

The brunette let out a stuttering breath, bringing his hands up to his hair and holding on tightly. Tears threatened to spill as he stared at the bathroom door with a wide smile, “Holy shit, he’s fucking alive,” he whispered, a small laugh escaping his lips, the tears driving their glittering path down his cheeks.

“Wilbur?” came a familiar call from downstairs, the clip clop of an animal accompanying the timid question. Wiping his face, Wilbur made his way downstairs. Although Tommy was alive, it still didn’t sit well with the man that Ghostbur would’ve left his brother to die alone. A small scowl dug its way into his features, replacing the relief and joy he just had, “What.” he said, more venom in his voice than he intended there to be.

Ghostbur either didn’t hear it or chose to ignore it, “Oh! There you are, I haven’t heard from you all morning and I got a little worried, but I came to tell you that I think someone is here! When I came to get Friend more hay, I saw footsteps that came to the door! Has anyone entered? Are Phil and Techno home?”

Wilbur stared at his echo for a moment, considering what to say. On one hand, he could tell Ghostbur that Tommy was here and possibly watch that look of hurtful memories play out on the teen’s features while they talk again, or he could lie and say no one was here and make the ghost either go back outside or stay downstairs. He chose the latter.

“No,” Wilbur said in as convincing a tone as he could muster, “no one’s here. Why don’t you keep playing with your sheep? He looks like he’s getting bored standing in here,” he glanced at the farm animal, who didn’t quite look bored but rather something more along the lines of staring directly into his soul. Friend’s dull brown eyes bore into Wilbur’s, and he looked away curtly. He’s so weird .

“Ah, okay! I’ll talk to you in a bit! Bye bye Wilbur!” Ghostbur called cheerfully, waving at the empty space in front of him before opening the door and bounding back outside with the blue sheep in tow. The two stared at each other, a shiver running down the brunette’s spine at the intense feeling he got from the sheep, before the somewhat trance was broken by the soft shutting of the door.

Wilbur grumbled and ran a hand through his hair, looking back up at the ladder that led upstairs. He just barely caught a glimpse of dripping wet blonde hair disappearing back up. The soft patter of footsteps briskly walking across the hardwood floor could be heard, and Wilbur’s nonexistent breath caught in his throat. To hell with the weird feeling, Wilbur flew through the stone ceiling straight into Techno’s room; Tommy was facing away from him, slowly shutting the door and backing away from it.

The blonde turned towards the bed, now facing Wilbur--who was floating just above the red sheets from where he had come out of--and he could see the deep look of confusion written across his face. He grimaced at that expression; Tommy shouldn’t have heard that seemingly one sided conversation.

“Ghostbur has definitely lost it.” Tommy stated flatly to the open air, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He placed a hand in his damp hair and rubbed vigorously, water droplets being slung from his curls from the action.

“Talking to Wilbur now apparently,” he scoffed, “News flash bud, Wilbur’s fucking dead, and last I checked he’s not a ghost,” the blonde said, bringing his legs up onto the bed and wrapping his arms around his knees after he had wiped his wet hand on his jeans, “cause if he was he would’ve stayed with me.”

Wilbur bit the inside of his cheek at the comment, wondering if he had seen Ghostbur yesterday when he… He shook his head free of the thought and moved closer to his brother, sitting down next to him and watching the teen shiver at his arrival.

“Fuckin’ hell it’s cold in here. Screw Technoblade and his Nether bullshit,” Tommy grumbled, rubbing his hands on his forearms as he glanced around the room.

“You should probably take a nap,” Wilbur suggested, leaning forward a bit to look at Tommy’s face. The bed creaked at his careful movement.

The two froze at the sound, Wilbur mid lean and staring intently at the teen, who kept his gaze straight ahead before slowly turning his head to look at the spot to his left where the shifting of the bed had originated. His eyes were wide, and he eyed the strange impression on the bed next to him. That is, until Wilber stood up.

Tommy practically flew across the room, his dark eyes alight with fear as he stared intently at where there had just been a dented spot in the bed sheets. “What the fuck,” he breathed, “what the fuck what the actual shit is Techno’s house haunted now?” the teen exclaimed, slowly edging his way back over to the bed to get a better look at it.

Wilbur just stood in front of the bed, shocked into silence at the events that had just transpired. Blankly, he watched Tommy creep closer and place a hesitant hand where Wilbur had just resided, his face scrunching up at what Wilbur could only think was the strange cold he had left behind. Then a realization dawned on the brunette. If the thought of Techno’s house being haunted bothered the blonde too much, he would have no second thought in fleeing the scene. Wilbur almost deflated at this revelation before picking up the role of that one little nagging voice in the back of the teen’s head again.

“Psh, really? Actual ghosts in Techno’s house? If that were a thing then he would have hella poltergeists or something from all the crimes he’s committed,” he tried, doing his best to make his voice sound casual and easygoing. Tommy paused at his inspection, drawing his hand away from the sheet and standing back up, “Maybe,” he said softly, glancing about the contents of the room again in an undesirable attempt at making sure he was safe to still be here.

“You said it yourself. There aren’t really ghosts, and you know the only one around here is outside playing with a sheep.” he said, crossing his arms. Tommy hummed at the pointer, a calculating look on his face.

“It was more than likely your imagination. You had been walking for a long while, and haven’t gotten a proper rest in what feels like forever, so you might be delirious at the moment.” Wilbur informed. These facts seemed to roll around that blonde head for a moment before his shoulders sagged; Wilbur silently cheered as Tommy admitted, “Yeah, that’s true. It’s been a long day, huh?”

The teen climbed back into the bed--staying on the opposite side of where Wilbur had been seated--and laid his slowly drying hair on the pillow. The red pillowcase turned a darker shade as it got wet, and Wilbur shied away from the thought that it looked like blood pooling out from under his head as he stared up at the sloped ceiling.

A heavy sigh escaped the blonde, and he closed his eyes. The wind pushed at the windows, the glass rattling a bit at the force, and Tommy curled deeper into his hoodie, which the top of it had reached his eyes as he sunk deeper into the felt. Wilbur chuckled lightly, and would’ve sat next to him and combed his fingers through his hair like he did earlier, but he didn’t trust the bed to not give him away again. So instead, he opted for just moving over to the side that Tommy was on and crouching down in front of him, studying the boy’s face again as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

The last time he saw his sibling this relaxed was when he was still in exile, during a brief moment of peace. A sunny clearing, blue flower crowns and lazy drifting. It had been nice, but was all ruined not a moment later by angered words and violent actions. The memory was both sweet and sour in his mind, depending on what part he chose to look at.

A disgruntled sound came from Tommy, snapping Wilbur back from his mindless thoughts, and he watched as the half-awake boy turned over on his side, facing his dead brother. Wilbur smiled to himself and brought a hand up, gently placing it in the teens hair. Tommy flinched a bit at the staticy contact, but he settled down and sank further into the comforting depths of a peaceful sleep. Wilbur hummed quietly the tune he always played on his guitar, and any tension that had stayed in the teen’s body simply evaporated.

For the first time in months, Tommy slept without having any terrible nightmares or waking up in a cold sweat, and it was utter bliss, for not only the teen, but his brother as well. Wilbur stayed with him the whole time he slept, carding spectral fingers through hair as bright as the sun.

And his sun was finally back with him.

The boy slept the whole day away, and Wilbur didn’t find anything wrong with that. Ghostbur had returned inside a few hours ago, and thankfully stayed downstairs. The sun was starting to dip below the horizon when he heard a door clambering open from downstairs. Standing up, Wilbur floated over to the ladder and gazed down it. The tell-tale green and white bucket hat passed just below him, disappearing into the kitchen before a familiar pink head followed not a moment later.

Eager to talk to Techno, he left the upstairs and made his way into the kitchen, waiting for the moment that Phil would leave to go talk to Ghostbur so he could tell his twin the news. The brunette rested on the kitchen counter, not really listening to their hushed conversation as he thought over what he was going to say. Coming to the conclusion that he would just tell the piglin outright, he rose from his spot as soon as his father left the room, making his way over to his brother.

“Techno,” he whispered, glancing around for a moment, “Techno it’s Wil, I have to tell you something important.”

Technoblade paused in his activity--which had consisted of placing fresh potatoes into the cupboard--and tilted his head to show he was listening.

“Tommy’s here. He’s in your room upstairs asleep, so don’t scare him off or I’ll haunt you forever.” he said, tilting his gaze up at the ceiling.

Techno grunted in acknowledgement, putting the rest of the food away before walking back into the main room where Phil sat with Ghostbur. The pair looked comfortable sitting around the fire, but he wasn't focused on that right now. Wilbur followed behind him, nervousness about what Techno might do when he went upstairs pricking at his gut as he watched his twin climb up the ladder.

When he reached the top of the rungs, the brunette hovered over the wooden floor as he watched the piglin hybrid enter the room cautiously, his ear twitching when his head had entered the darkened space just far enough to see their younger brother curled up asleep in the blankets. When his twin slowly entered the room, Wilbur quickly followed after him, ducking around his form and moving to float next to his sibling. He looked so incredibly peaceful, one arm wrapped around the pillow under his head and the other tucked close to his chest. His face was half buried in the red cover, and the sheets were wrapped all around him like some cocoon. His golden hair was covering his eyes and curled around his ears, and the brunette’s hands itched to tie it into a small braid.

Techno closed the door behind him with a soft click and padded over to the teen, crouching down on the floor just in front of him and peering at him with a sort of curiosity. Wilbur could tell he was taking notes of the good and bad about the blonde; his new clothes, the way he smelled like eucalyptus, how thin he was, how pale his skin was and the way that, despite how peaceful he looked, there was a slight shiver to his form.

The pink haired man tentatively reached a hand up, running it through those sunshine locks. Wilbur watched him wipe something away from his eye with his other hand, and the brunette pretended he didn’t see the glint of a small tear come away on the warrior’s hand.

“I think you should wake him,” Wilbur said into the quiet night air, leaning over to get a better look at the teen’s frail features, “He’s been asleep all day, and I think now would be a good time for the two of you to make up.”

Techno hummed in acknowledgement, a rumbling noise that rose from deep in his chest, and he carried the hand that had been rhythmically running through Tommy’s hair to rest on his shoulder, a light shake gaining a sleepy grumble from the teen. The blonde curled farther in on himself, his face disappearing into the red pillow, and Wilbur couldn’t help but chuckle at how much he looked like a little kid at that moment.

His twin shook their sibling again, “Wake up Tommy, I want my bed back,” he said good humoredly. Tommy groaned and batted the hand away, “Five more minutes,” he slurred into the fabric, a thin hand scratching at his nose before vanishing under the covers.

“Not a chance, now get up,” Techno huffed, giving the teen another gentle shake, who sighed heavily and sat up in the bed, rubbing his eyes and grumbling under his breath. The ruby colored sheets fell down around him when he got up, and Wilbur unintentionally tensed up, waiting for the moment that Tommy would open his eyes and see his brother. The last time the topic of their sibling had been brought up, the teen had seemed convinced the piglin hated him and never wanted to see him again, and the brunette could only stand there and grimace to himself.

Now, anxiousness curled up inside his chest and prepared for the worst when Tommy’s hands dropped from his eyes and he blearily blinked them open, his grey-blue gaze settling on the hybrid in front of him. For a moment, he appeared confused, studying Techno’s face before his mind seemed to catch up to him. His eyes grew wide, and he went to fling himself out of the bed but was stopped by the piglin’s outstretched arm. The teen gasped, fear evident on his face, but it seemed to dial down a bit when Techno wrapped his arm around the blonde and pulled him into a hug.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re fine,” he murmured, a sound coming from deep in his chest that no doubt vibrated in the air; the arm that had come up around the teen was now idly rubbing small circles on his back. The blonde was still breathing unsteadily, but had ceased his struggle in escaping the piglin’s grasp, now just staring ahead at the wall. His dull eyes seemed to take in every nick, every scratch and indention in the wood as he sat there, encompassed in an all too warm hug and rendered incapable of moving.

A few minutes passed like that, with Techno keeping the teen in his embrace and Tommy staring blankly ahead; Wilbur was trying his best to resist the urge to hiss at Techno to let the blonde go. Then, almost hesitantly, a thin hand rose from where it dangled uselessly against the bed and clasped at the bicep that encircled his head. A small whimper, and the teen’s fragile form began to tremble with the effort of the sobs that dragged themselves out of his throat. Wilbur watched with nervous hands clasped together as his twin only hugged the broken child closer, the small circles he traced in his hoodie never ceasing.

“T-Techno?” Tommy choked out, his voice barely audible between the cloth his face was buried in.

“Yeah?” he replied softly.

The teen sniffed, his sobs having subsided, “You don’t...hate me?” Tommy asked timidly, and it twisted the brunette's heart at the almost child-like fear that he would get in trouble for asking such a question that weaved its way between those words.

The piglin simply shook his head, a rumbling hum emitting from his chest, “No Theseus, I don’t.”

A shaky laugh came from the hug, and the two finally withdrew from each other. Tommy rubbed his eyes, a sheepish smile on his damp face, “Fuckin’ hell, sorry about that Tech. I uhm,” he cleared his throat and brought his attention up to meet the scarlet gaze, “I guess I just missed you.”

A rare smile appeared on his twin’s face as he chuffed, hoisting himself up onto the bed to sit beside the teen. A silence spread between the two of them, Tommy fiddling with a spare thread on the bed as Techno stared down at his hands, the telltale twitch of his eye a sign that he was struggling to think of something to say. Fortunately though, his introverted train of thought apparently decided that it would work with him tonight, for Wilbur saw an idea flicker to light in those ruby red depths.

The bed creaked as the piglin shifted his weight, “Do you,” he cleared his throat, “you wanna come downstairs and get some tea?” he offered.

Tommy paused in his nervous activity, his fingers shaking slightly as they hovered just over his knee with thread still pinched between his thumb and forefinger. Wilbur had moved from his spot in the corner to just beside the blonde, and watched in growing relief as he gave their sibling a small nod. With a huff, Techno rose from the bed and looked down at the teen expectantly, who wrung the bed sheet between his hands as he struggled to say something. This hesitancy to speak his mind was like a sharp hit to Wilbur’s knees, and if he had been actually standing he probably would’ve tilted on his axis.

“Is, uhm,” the blonde paused, mustering up his courage before continuing, “is Phil down there?” he asked.

Techno nodded without a second thought, and Tommy sighed, his form slumping in on itself for a moment before he appeared to brush it off, standing from the bed and marching towards the door with a sense of his old confidence, but Wilbur knew better. Sadly, he could see the tremble in his shoulders and how stiff his back was with holding this facade afloat, but if Techno noticed it as well, he didn’t mention it.

“Go on ahead, I’ve gotta clean up your mess,” the piglin said good naturedly, and the teen nodded, padding his way down the small hallway towards the ladders that led down to the living room filled with light banter and steaming drinks. As Techno fixed the bedsheets, Wilbur floated over to his twin and watched him for a second. There were a million different things the brunette could say, but the main subject on his mind was, “Do you think he’ll be okay now?”

Techno paused, and he sighed, glancing over at the door where they could just barely make out a tuft of blonde hair gleaming in the torch light at the end of the hall, “Depends on what you mean by ‘okay’,” he said.

Wilbur glanced down at his hands, silent for a moment, “Will he be safe here?” he decided.

His twin nodded, “He will Wilbur, I promise.”

The brunette smiled, “That’s good. You should probably hurry up and finish making that bed, I think Tommy’s getting impatient,” he chuckled. Techno scoffed and finished up the sheets, fixing the pillows before leaving the room. He paused at the doorway, glancing into the darkened room with the gloom of the half shrouded moon outside the only light source. Just barely, the glint of too familiar brown eyes and a torn trench coat caught the faint streaks of moonlight, and Techno offered the not so empty room a small grin, “I’ll see you later Wil,” he said.

“You too big man,” the brunette responded in a fond tone, and he watched his twin leave the room to meet up with the rest of their family and his fill in.

He wouldn’t get to see his brother until many months later.

Dragging his gaze from the empty doorway, he focused on the rolling clouds strewn across the sky outside the window, snippets of the icy moon peeking out between them like a small child. He could already feel himself slipping away, and with a heavy sigh, he stared down at his ashen fingertips. Hopefully, in their next lifetime, he could hold up that promise.

As the brunette faded away back to darkened tunnels and red rimmed stations, the moon came out of hiding, washing the dark room with cold light, but Wilbur had never felt warmer. He closed his eyes, a single, content tear sliding down his face as he whispered to himself, “Finally, we can both have some fucking rest.”

And with that, the older brother, the madman of a broken nation, a man who cared too much for his family, disappeared into a cloud of his own, one made out of memories of soft guitar melodies, of laughter filled conversations and the soft crackling of a fire and chilled hands warmed by steaming tea.

Despite the cold that blanketed the ground outside, the cabin was warmer than it had ever been, for the sun had finally returned to shine.