Work Text:
Wilbur had gotten used to the biting cold of Hell. For 13 years he had been stuck on this platform, trains passing without fail each time. Of course this time, the first time a train has stopped, he looks up in shock.
The first thing he hears is...his voice? He stands and takes a step closer. After a moment, the doors open, and he sees what appears to be a ghost version of himself and Dream. Many thoughts scatter through his mind, emotions filling him to the brim. The ghost version of himself is crying, begging to go back. Back to the land of the living? A spark of hope ignites in Wilbur's chest. Dream shoves him towards the exit, looking towards Wilbur then. He gestures for him to come. Eyes widening in surprise, Wilbur rushes to the train, as if it might leave least he not hurry. He shoves the ghost out of the way without a second thought. Resigned, he goes quietly onto the platform, tears staining his cheeks blue. Wilbur grins, and the doors close behind him.
As the train begins moving, Wilbur steps towards Dream. "Is this real? Have you really come for me?" He reaches out a hand. Dream stays silent and still, allowing Wilbur to place a hand on his arm. Tears fill Wilbur's eyes as he feels warmth and flesh. He quickly wipes them away, stepping closer. His hands are all over Dream, not getting enough of the warmth that had become foreign to him over all those years stuck in the cold. He begins speaking quickly, needing to get words out suddenly. "By god, you have no idea what it's like! Thirteen years in the damn cold, for fucks sake it took you too long." He doesn't sound angry at Dream, contrary he sounds almost as if he's...worshipping him, the man who saved him from purgatory.