Chapter Text
“A snarling face snapped its teeth towards his shoulder, and the boy struggled to push the corpse back. Tommy’s knife, he just needed to shove it into the monster’s head.”
What was supposed to happen next was well known. The zombified corpse of Tommy’s brother would tackle his attacker and traumatize the blonde but saving him nonetheless. However, this story was not that. This story did not have a happy ending.
Tommy’s grip slipped, the force of the zombie sending him flat on his back. He screamed as teeth broke skin, tearing apart the flesh. He grabbed his knife, adrenaline coursing through him, and drove it straight through it’s skull with a furious shout. He knew that Ghostbur would now be rushing out, panicked at the sound of conflict and worried for Tommy’s safety.
The zombie slumped over, mouth now loosely clamped around his shoulder. Blood mixed with black sludge soaked into his shirt as Tommy laid there, the reality of the situation hitting him like a semi truck to the stomach.
A sob tore itself from his throat, tears now streaming down his face in heavy streams. Why? Why now? Why him? He had tried so fucking hard and yet here he was, lying on the ground, alone.
He was snapped out of his thoughts by his ghostly brother appearing in front of him, expression tight with worry.
“Tommy! Are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?” His brother asked, floating horizontal to match Tommy’s body as it laid. Tommy stared at him for a long time, trying to memorize his brother’s face. It was hard through all the tears.
He knew he couldn’t tell Ghostbur. Not only would the specter not understand but his last moments together with his last remaining family couldn’t be ruined by something as stupid as his emotions. So he nodded, trying not to completely lose himself in his fear.
Ghostbur moved to kneel next to Tommy. “Do you want to do your breathing exercises?” he asked, arms opening slightly to offer his little brother a hug. Tommy bit back another sob but forced himself to sit up, arms shaking heavily the entire way into Ghostbur’s embrace. The ghostly young man started to rub gentle circles into Tommy’s back, the boy in question trying to hold back his sobs as best he could.
Ghostbur started to count, giving Tommy time to count with him in an attempt to calm his breathing. Tommy did his best to follow along, and after a while he even started to feel more in control of himself.
That was until the pain in his shoulder reminded him of his situation. What was he going to do now? It wasn’t like he could go to sleep and wake up in the morning. Honestly it’d be a miracle if he even lasted that long.
He gripped Ghostbur tighter, biting his lip hard enough to draw a small trickle of blood. Ghostbur seemed to notice this and started to hum quietly, a lullaby that used to put him to sleep instantly as a child, but now only served to relax his body.
Tommy started to get lost in his mind, trying to think of what his last words should be, what Ghostbur would do once he was no longer himself, or if the ghost would even understand what was happening. He had to find a way to make Ghostbur understand… Somehow. Even if not fully.
Tommy pulled away from his brother, looking up at the confused specter’s face. “Ghostbro… I…” He started quietly, voice choked up.
“It’s okay, Tommy! You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Just know that I’m here for you!” Ghostbur said, smiling brightly. “Tomorrow we’ll be able to go have tons of fun!”
Tommy gave a weak smile. “Thanks… but I have something to tell you…” He said, eyes screwed shut.
Ghostbur tilted his head. “Oh! Okay, what’s up, Toms?”
Tommy stayed silent for a moment, trying to think of a way to put it. “I’m… Do you remember that woman that stole my rabbit?” The ghost nodded. “Well… she made me sick. Really sick, big man.”
“Oh no! Should I go find something to make tea? I don’t mind going to look for medicine too!” Tommy shook his head.
“It’s not gonna help, Ghostbro. I’m gonna get super sick really soon. It’s gonna be so bad, I won’t even remember you probably.” Tommy tried to make it seem less serious than it was by doing jazz hands.
“Oh! So you’re gonna be like me? Well, then I’ll be here to jog your memory!” Ghostbur said cheerfully. “And then we can be amnesia buddies! Not that I want you to lose your memory but if nothing’s gonna help, then we might as well make the best of it, right?”
Tommy tried not to feel the irrational anger that welled up inside of him, wanting to lash out at everything and everyone just to feel better but he knew it wouldn’t help. “Yeah… that sounds great, big man… I’m glad to have a big bro like you.”
“Stop! You’re gonna make me cry!” Ghostbur said, laughing softly. Tommy went back to hugging his brother tightly.
The moment was broken up however by the sound of someone groaning… or something. Not another zombie…
Tommy stood, breaking away from the hug. “Go into the tent Ghostbro. Seems like that woman is back again.”
“Is she back to say sorry?” Ghostbur asked, standing as well.
“Uh… yeah, big man. But having more than one person might make her nervous, so why not go into the tent and rest up for tomorrow?” Tommy turned to smile at Ghostbur. The specter hesitated but nodded and made his way to follow Tommy’s request.
Tommy turned back towards the woods, knife still in the dead zombie’s head. He couldn’t see the point anymore. He was going to turn anyway so why bother fighting any more zombies off. He took a deep breath and braced himself for another attack but instead the moans and shuffling stopped, just a few feet in front of him.
It was… Wilbur. Or, well, his corpse. Again. He swore he tied him to that tree tight enough to remove circulation in any living person. Tommy gritted his teeth. Something angry in him blamed the corpse for his predicament. No matter how irrational it was, he couldn’t help the white hot rage that caused his fists to clench and made him rush forward to punch Wilbur square in the face.
His anger was too overwhelming for words, too overwhelming for sounds at all, the only thing that indicated he had vocal functions at all was the muffled growls that bubbled up from deep inside him as he started to punch Wilbur again and again, the corpse now on the ground.
After what felt like seconds and years at the same time, Tommy felt the energy suddenly drain from him. He sobbed through gritted teeth, collapsing on top of his brother’s undead corpse.
“Why, Wil? Why’d you have to leave? Why’d you have to fuck this up?” He didn’t mean it, not truly, but he was just in so much pain. “I needed you..! I needed you to be there for me! For Phil and Techno and… And instead you were so focused on some stupid fucking compound..! You could have been there! You could have saved yourself! Saved me!” Tommy gave one last weak hit, barely able to even move his arms.
Wilbur said nothing, not that he could though. He just stared at Tommy, expressionless eyes empty of thought. He probably didn’t have a clue what he was saying anyway.
Tommy sobbed wordlessly, just so… tired. His body ached and his lungs felt like they couldn’t hold air anymore. But he just couldn’t bring himself to care.
“I can’t fucking believe you… You can’t even fucking apologize…!” Tommy said, vision blurring with more tears. He coughed, feeling something come up.
Tommy rolled off Wilbur, coughing even harder. Thick, warm liquid covered his hands and he knew it was blood. He curled in on himself, body aching more than ever as he continued to cough, barely able to take air into his lungs. Wilbur sat up, looking at Tommy for a long moment.
“T-To… mm… my…?” His raspy voice cut through his coughs. Tommy looked back at what used to be his brother with blurry eyes, face red with the effort of his coughing fit. “T-Tomm… y… h-hu.. ur…. rt?” He said, hand slowly moving to point at his shoulder.
Tommy nodded, unable to speak as he spat out some more blood, now mixed with flecks of black. His coughing had subsided but there was a bone chilling cold spreading throughout him, the bite mark feeling like it was peeling apart.
“Tomm… my… o-oth… er…?” Wilbur continued, moving closer. Tommy didn’t understand what that meant but he didn’t focus too hard on it.
“N-no…” Wilbur said, brows furrowed. “N-no… oth… ther… N-no e-eat… n-no…!” His raspy voice held the smallest hint of anger and… fear? Tommy reached out weakly, wanting to at least hold something resembling his family.
Wilbur moved close enough for Tommy to grab the corpse’s cold hand. His body shook violently, causing another coughing fit that spit up more blood. He couldn’t even say good-bye to Ghostbur, the ghost now in the tent. He shouldn’t have sent him away, shouldn’t have lied to him. He should have apologized for not being the best brother he could be.
Wilbur gripped Tommy’s hand weakly, though Tommy felt that it was as strong as the corpse could manage at the moment. The black dripping from the zombie’s eyes seemed to become heavier, making Tommy’s heart ache with the rest of his body.
Tommy knew he was nearing the end. At least the pain would end, the constant fear, late nights, and long days without food would be over. He could finally relax…
Even if his body wouldn’t be allowed to.
=====================
Tommy.
His Tommy was hurting.
He was becoming like him.
Like his kin that lay lifeless a mere handful of feet away.
Something in him was pleased at this.
Something in him was terrified of this.
He couldn’t understand why.
Why?
Why did his kin not listen to him?
This could have been stopped if only he was fast enough.
Many things felt broken but the pain deep inside him at the conflict of emotions dulled it.
He was hungry but even he knew not to hurt his familiar thing.
Now he was going to lose his familiar thing.
He would become something different.
He held his Tommy’s hand tightly, wanting to help but unsure how.
“T-To… mm… y…” He rasped out, the black coming from his eyes coming down even harder as he did the closest to crying his kind could do.
“S-so… rr… y… To… Tom… my…” He brought his head close to Tommy’s, something in him telling him that this was right.
With quiet, strained notes, he started to hum. He didn’t know where it came from, something inside him seemed upset that he even knew the notes, but he continued to hum.
He knew it would help his Tommy, even if he didn’t know how.
After more sounds of pain from Tommy, there was a moment of quiet. The only sounds were the forest things that croaked and chirped.
Tommy looked at him and he looked back.
The clear liquid on his face was starting to turn gray, becoming thicker. Dark red liquid streamed from the corner of his mouth. His Tommy didn’t have much time left. He would become kin
Kin can’t be familiar. Familiar can’t be kin. He didn’t want to lose his familiar thing. It was all he had.
“Wilby… I-I’m sc-scared…” His Tommy spoke as the fast-things do once more, probably the last thing he would say as a fast-thing.
His Tommy’s eyes began to dim, one last cough being the last indication of life. The weak rise and fall of his chest slowed to a stop, his eyes dimmed completely, and his Tommy was gone.
He didn’t let go, didn’t move, didn’t stop shakily humming. He would help his familiar thing even when he was no longer his familiar thing. He would be here for his new kin.