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Wilbur sat alone, smoking a cigarette and staring up at the needle that lit up the night sky.
Ranboo had gone home hours ago, although he hadn’t seemed to be heading in the right direction to go back to his house next to Techno and Phil. Wilbur idly wondered where he was instead and why he’d lied about it, but Ranboo didn’t share much generally. He told himself it wasn’t something to be concerned about, and tried to move on.
He hadn’t seen Tommy in a few days. He didn’t know if he was allowed to feel hurt by that. In some ways he was panicking, the way he always was when Tommy disappeared from view. The urge was always there, to grab Tommy and run somewhere far away from everyone else, so they could never be hurt again. To start a new nation- a better one, one that actually protected people. Only the look in Tommys eyes stopped him. That well concealed fear and caution, hidden underneath layers of jokes and banter. Wilbur could only see it because it was the same look Tommy had had in Pogtopia, the same look that Wilbur hated. The one wished he could scrape off Tommys face and give him back his obnoxiously bright smile. He wished Tommy would go back to looking at him like he was invincible, like anything could happen if he said it could. And Wilbur feels guilty because he knows it’s in part his fault that Tommy doesn’t shine as bright as he used to. He seems dimmed whenever Wilbur is around, still testing the ice unsure of what will break. He hates being treated like a cornered animal, reading to lash out at anyone who gets too close. He hates Tommy keeping his distance, wishes so bad that Tommy could go back to standing strong by his side, his faith in his older brother unwavering, but he’s tried all he can. He’s built this whole thing, this Paradise, for Tommy, and still he’s almost never around. Wilbur knows he shouldn’t be upset. Not when he’s cornered Tommy and made him promise to never leave. Not when he’s told Tommy not to trust anyone but him. Not when he’s destroyed Tommys childhood and home.
(At his worst, Ranboo has found him tucked in a corner of their burger van, sobbing with his head in his hands because how could he have done this to his little brother? How could he have taken someone so good and so brave, and corrupted them into someone that flinched when he raised his voice, and looked unhappy when he laughed. Tommy used to shine like the sun, and Wilbur would circle him like the moon. They used to eclipse perfectly, and Wilbur was at his best with Tommy by his side, an arrogant smile on his face and a shield in hand. Now their orbits have taken them away from eachother, and Wilbur feels every mile in his bones. He tells himself over and over again that if he regrets anything he did then it will make it all pointless, but it doesn’t stop him from wishing he’d stopped himself. If he’d stopped himself he wouldn’t have to prove that he could be trusted again. He wouldn’t need to hold himself back because there’d be nothing to hold himself back from. The worst he would have done to Tommy would be letting him sacrifice his disks for the nation.)
Wilbur finds it strange that he’s divided how he feels about L’manburg and how he feels about Tommy. He always felt regret with Tommy, the guilt was always present. There were the good times he could remember, but they seemed farther away the more Wilbur reached for them. More prevalent in his head were the bad times. The walls that seemed to close in around him, the shadows taunting him with betrayal. Tommys wide, terrified eyes as Wilbur told him he’d never be president. Wilbur had let himself slip then, he’d already been trying to handle the fact that his nation -his pride and joy, something he’d put everything he had to give into- was in someone elses hands, and that he couldn’t think past the buzzing that he needed to get it back, to have something easily controllable in his hands again. He wants to blame what happened then on the fact that he’d just felt like he needed something to control, and he wasn’t thinking clearly enough to see that the thing he was trying to control wasn’t a thing but a person, his brother.
He felt nothing but pride and relief over blowing up L’manburg. He’s tricked himself into thinking it’s his happiest moment, but in reality it’s simply the end of a long battle. The sense of calm that comes with knowing it’s all over. He doesn’t regret blowing up L’manburg, and he still believes it was the right thing to do. Over the months he spent in the ravine L’manburg had consumed him, until he couldn’t see how they could both exist (and it turns out that they couldn’t exist without eachother as well. Wilburs hoping that isn’t still true). What he regrets is Tommy's expression as he watched. He regrets the way Tommy looked at him with despair and betrayal in his eyes.
Wilbur tried to separate how he felt for his brother and how he felt for his country, but the harder he tried, the closer they became. He wondered if it was okay for him to not regret blowing up L’manburg and still wish that Tommy wasn’t afraid of him. He didn’’t know who he was expecting to give him permission. Wilbur found that he’s still learning to be human. After 13 years of existing only in void, he now has to relearn how to navigate life and feelings and food and sleep and the way Tommy always searches his face for lies, and how Wilbur can never tell if he finds any.
Wilbur blew out smoke. He didn’t want to think about Tommy anymore.