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The first thing Wilbur felt was his heartbeat. A soft kick drum against his ribs, a foreign but familiar sensation that forced stale blood into motion.
He felt his mouth part, and he gently placed a hand over his chest. Then two fingers to his neck, then his wrist. Holy shit. After thirteen and a half years of stillness in his veins, he’d forgotten what a heartbeat felt like. He didn’t have anything to compare it to–even the moment he’d seen his newborn son didn’t quite match.
He couldn’t help but giggle at the sensation, trying to mentally follow the flow of blood through his body, feeling his skin turn warm. And he felt that, too–air being forced out of weak lungs through his throat, the hum of the sound in his head and the vibration of his vocal chords like plucking guitar strings in the back of his throat. He doubled over, choking on his own breath–
He’s breathing.
His chest wasn’t just humming, it was moving, heartbeat thrumming against his hand as his lungs moved it up and down. Air was sucked in through his nose, then shuddered out of his mouth as he struggled to even remember how to breathe. Something once second nature to him–nay, any human –was foreign and discomforting. He put his hands on his knees, bracing himself as coughs ripped through his body like tsunamis through the ocean.
He’d barely had a moment to reconcile with his breath when Tommy’s voice ripped through the air, brash and echoing against wherever he was. He threw his hands over his ears, falling onto his knees in the process as the sound knocked him down, sending tingles down his skin like every muscle in his body had fallen asleep and he’d tried to run a marathon.
“Shut up,” he muttered, spurring on another fit of coughing from his unused voice.
Tommy was getting closer, he was running; he could hear his footsteps slam against glass, alongside someone else’s. He had to stand up. He had to stand up. He couldn’t let Tommy see him huddled on the ground in a heap like this. God, what the hell was happening?!
Slowly, he peeled his eyes open, letting the world fade into view. The first thing he saw was a shrine; a blur of lapis and TNT and gold, with a flag hanging in the center. He was going to vomit. The colors clashed hard, the lines between them blurry and unfocused. The blue was too blue, the red was too red; he imagined this is what it’d feel like to see color for the first time. The moonlight was shining off the gold and it was blinding him.
He used the shrine to help himself to his feet, one hand staying on the side of his head. His legs wobbled like he was Bambi, his chest thrumming with life that all the alcohol in the world couldn’t prepare him for feeling.
He let out a shuddering breath as Tommy rounded the corner, and he did his best to flash him a smile. He was just… pressing this button! Yes, that was all. The world was not spinning at all, he was fine.
“Oh, um, hello again…?” he said, shakily standing up straight, wincing. His head throbbed. Fuck. “Is this–Is this real…?” He looked down at his hands, blue-tinged like he’d been… he’d been… he’d…
Tommy offered him no comfort, a hard snarl in his lip. “Yeah, it’s real.”
“I–I feel so numb.” He spun around, taking in more of where he was. A blue sheep bleated at him, and he had half the mind not to kick it. “Who the fuck is thi–Who the fuck’s Friend?!”
Then Tommy threw something he called blue at him, and he jumped back. “No, no no no no–You– Don’t throw that. I’ve obviously missed a bea t here. I’ve missed a beat. What’s happening? Why am I here?!”
He was in that damned station, he got on a train, and then he woke up here, and his body was doing all sorts of unfamiliar things. Almost like… No, no, no.
“I’m alive,” he muttered, quiet at first as he left the shrine. He looked out at what he could only assume to be the remains of L’manburg after he blew it to smithereens. “I really did a number, here, huh?” he remarked, a laugh bubbling in his chest– god he hated that feeling.
“I’m alive!” he repeated, nearing a shout as his voice gained a mind of its own. “Fuck, I’m alive!”
Alive.
He was alive!
He wandered over the glass, pushing past Tommy and Tubbo and whoever their new friend was, laughing as he eyed everything over. It hurt his eyes, it made him feel like he was imploding, but god he wasn’t in that damned train station anymore! He’d never have to look at that fucking dot matrix again!
The sky was turning orange, and he jumped up the hill just in time for the sunlight to wash over him, warming his skin. He sighed, slow and shaking. It was warm and it was colorful–two things that dingy, underground train platforms don’t mix with. He stared right into the blinding ball of light as it rose over the horizon, letting it hurt his eyes. The pain was the last nail he needed to be pulled from his coffin, sealing this as reality.
“I’ve waited so fucking long…” he muttered, before turning to look at the three who were staring up at him with wide eyes. “Tommy, I’ve been waiting, for over a decade, in mere darkness… This is my sunrise– This is my sunrise! This is mine!” He cackled, Tommy’s arguments falling on ears that refused to listen.
“My god, I’ve–I’ve been given a new lease on life,” he rambled, walking off towards the path in the distance. “There’s so much I’ve got to do! I’ve got to go, I’ve–”
He sprinted down the path, and he could’ve collapsed from the sensation of glass and wood and everything under foot. He felt clumsy, like he was three quarters of an inch offset from his body as he moved. It wasn’t until he was long out of the trio’s sights that he finally collapsed, falling into the first soft-looking patch of grass beneath a tree he found. His heart was racing, his breaths were shallow and hard and the sun, the sun on his head. He–
He forced himself to sit up, his throat and stomach twisting. He shuffled a bit away as bile forced itself up, bracing himself on the tree he’d found refuge under. Nothing came up but blood, and the sight made him sick again.
God. He had a lot to do.