Chapter Text
It was a quiet and cold night on the SMP when Wilbur walked along the prime path. He marched past old, abandoned buildings and long-forgotten signs, creeper holes and advertisements.
Wilbur pulled his coat closer around him to keep himself warm, it was december after all.
His brown beanie on his head had a few holes in it, which made his ears a bit cold. He would have to ask Tommy to fix it when he would reach his house. Or cave. You could barely call a dirt hole in a hill a house. But if Tommy liked it, Wilbur would be the last person to judge. Wilbur didn't even have a house. Since he got revived, he just kinda lived anywhere where he could make himself comfortable. And Tommy's dirt cave was way better than the bench Wilbur slept on last night. It has a basement, a warm bed and a nice garden with flowers. Or that's what he last remembered from it when he visitted his little brother.
Because right now the man was standing in front of a yellow and black striped wall where Tommy's beautiful garden should have been. The wall gave him flashbacks of l'manberg in its early times.
He missed it. He missed his family, his friends, the fun they had before the election.
So that's why he wanted to visit Tommy. To apologize for everything he had done and to tell him how much he missed his little brother. How much he missed singing with him and telling stories. And he wanted to inform Tommy that he stopped messing with Quackity at las Nevadas after Ranboo's death.
But seeing this wall around the blondes' property made Wilbur worry. A lot.
He knew Tommy was scared and paranoid since Dream broke out of prison two weeks ago with the help of their dearest brother and father. But this wall made it clear that Tommy was more than scared. Or else he would have just come to Wilbur, to Puffy to anyone who could have protected him instead of building a fucking fortress.
Wilbur climbed over the wall, almost falling down but catching himself again. He hopped onto the ground, flowers nowhere in sight. They must have died due to the lack of care. The man walked over to the entrance of Tommy's house and knocked on the door.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
No answer.
He tried again.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
No answer.
"Tommy?" he called out. "It's Wil. I wanted to talk to you and... apologize. Can I come in?"
Still no answer. Was he out somewhere? Surely not, not alone at least. It was night, he was probably just asleep. Wilbur reached out for the doorknob, turned it around slowly and the door opened. Unlocked. Why the hell would Tommy build walls around his property, fall into a complete panic but then leave his door unlocked?
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Wilbur opened the door completely and stepped into the cold house.
"Tommy? I'm coming in now!"
Carefully he took a few steps forward until a sign caught his attention. 'Did you miss me :)'. What the fuck? Wilbur began to panic.
"TOMMY! COME OUT, I'M NOT PLAYING YOUR FUCKING HIDING GAME!". He stepped further into the house until he reached another door that leads to Tommy's bedroom. Quickly he opened the door, the only light source being a torch on the wall. He looked around the room for any sign of his brother and then he had found him.
There, on the cold floor lay his brother unconscious, an empty pill bottle next to him.
After a few seconds of shock, Wilbur sprinted to his brother's side, kneeling next to his body.
"No! No, no, no, Tommy!" Tears started rolling down his cheeks like a waterfall. " Please, this wasn't supposed to happen! I'm so sorry! TOMMY! PLEASE!"
But Tommy didn't move. It was too late.
Written with black ink and tear stains on the paper were five letters on his bed, addressed to the people that he had once called his family.