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In a little burger van outside the city limits of the massive, shimmering city of Las Nevadas, two men stand in companionable silence, the only sound being the sizzling patties on the grill as Ranboo flips them over.
From where he stands leaning against the counter, his bangs flopping into part of his vision as he begins slicing tomatoes, Wilbur softly questions, “Do you know what today is?”
With a confused tilt of his head, not understanding where Wilbur’s going with this, Ranboo slowly says, “It's November 16th, right?”
While smiling sadly and forlornly, looking down at the lettuce and tomatoes like they were there on the day L’Manberg perished, Wilbur mutters with a heavy, weary sigh, “It is. This is the day I died.”
Oh…
Right…
Sometimes Ranboo forgets that, just a few months ago, Wilbur was dead.
If it weren’t for the white streak in Wilbur’s hair, Ranboo doubts that he would ever remember that Wilbur went to Limbo, a place that has no doubt changed the man.
But, while everyone else insists that Limbo made Wilbur even worse, he holds onto the hope that the man standing beside him in a tiny burger van isn’t the same person he’s heard horror stories about, the ones in which deranged laughter echoed across the too-narrow walls of a ravine or of hands that shook as they reached for a button, sending the world into a cacophony of deadly explosions that tore an entire nation to shreds.
After a few moments of being stunned into silence, Ranboo shakes himself from his thoughts and softly says, “Oh… Sorry about that. I’m sure today isn’t a very fun day…”
With a wry smile, definitely not finding the day he died to be fun, Wilbur agrees before trailing off, “Yeah, you could say that again…”
For a few moments, the duo descends into silence, once again the only sound being the sizzling of freshly cooked burgers becoming a perfect golden-brown on the grill.
Finally, after awkwardly clearing his throat, feeling horribly inept at dealing with this but knowing that no one else is going to help Wilbur, Ranboo hesitantly questions, “Wanna talk about it?”
Wait, what?
Did Ranboo seriously just ask that?
Does he really want to hear his side of the story?
No one's ever asked what that day was like for him...
While trying his best to fight the warm, fuzzy feeling building inside him, Wilbur sheepishly murmurs, “Uh, sure, if you're willing to listen.”
Without hesitation, Ranboo switches off the grill, allowing the patties to cool as he turns his full attention to Wil and earnestly says, “Of course. We're partners now.”
With a wide smile, unable to deny how happy those words make him feel, Wilbur honestly says, “Thanks, Ranboo. I really appreciate that.”
Then, while hopping up on an empty counter, sitting with his legs dangling down toward the floor as he faces Ranboo, Wilbur mutters with a bitter laugh, “I'm sure you've heard the stories before though. I went insane, blew up my nation, then begged my father to kill me. Classic Wilbur, they say.”
For a few moments, Ranboo can’t help but frown, not liking Wilbur’s defeated tone or the slump in his shoulders, one that tells the young cook that many, many people have dismissed Wilbur as crazy rather than actually listening to him.
While stepping toward Wilbur and placing a reassuring hand on the man’s arm, Ranboo honestly says in a kind, understanding tone, “I've been told that before, but I'm sure that's not all of it. I can't imagine you not having a reason behind blowing it all up.”
As he tries his best not to cry, both from Ranboo’s unexpected kindness toward him and the thoughts of the once-beautiful nation he lost, Wilbur whispers in a small, uncertain tone, “Yeah, there was a reason, but I can hardly remember it now. It was so long ago…”
After taking a few moments to collect himself, remembering the one thing he’s sure, Wilbur continues in a strong, confident tone as fury blazes in his deep brown eyes, “I thought that, if I couldn't have L'Manberg, no one should get to have it.”
“Do you regret it?” Ranboo gently questions, assuming that he already knows Wilbur’s answer, yet he asks the man all the same, wanting to give him the opportunity to properly tell his story.
“No, not at all,” Wilbur replies without hesitation, knowing that, even though sometimes his heart aches from the loss of His L’Manberg and a shiver wracks his body over the thought of all the years spent in the hell of Limbo, those experiences made him who he is now.
And, even though he isn’t the most perfect person, he’s happy with the person he is now, the one who spends his time flipping burgers and making Ranboo and so many others happy with good food.
With a small, genuine smile, Wilbur meets Ranboo’s eyes and shyly says, “But I'm glad that's all in the past now. I have better things to put my attention toward.”
“Like making burgers?” Ranboo asks with a cheeky grin.
“Like making burgers,” Wilbur happily agrees without hesitation as he hops down from where he was sitting on the counter.
While still smiling widely, Wilbur wraps his arms around Ranboo's shoulders and leads them over to the grills, then they work on flipping burgers together, chatting and laughing as they do so, each of them content to spend their days together as they heal from the past and build a better future.