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It was stupid, in hindsight.
A doll for Wilbur after the man had gone and died. It’s not like he’d ever see it - the resurrection already failed, and Dream hated Wilbur. There’d be no reason for Dream to do it.
But, it was rainy outside today. Eret didn’t have to take petitions, and other plans had been cancelled so the king got to wander the castle. Instead, she chose to stay in her bedroom, bundled under the covers.
She’d set the little doll on the bedside table after the 16th, finding some form of cruelty in keeping it to herself. She didn’t deserve to comfort Wilbur. She didn’t deserve to be the one to hold him and tell him she was here.
She was the one who led him to his doom.
And Wilbur was the one who fell for them.
Maybe it was guilt that led her to finding the spell. Maybe it was something to do to distract herself from Dream.
But either way, there’s a doll in Wilbur’s stead.
After some time, and after a particularly loud strike of thunder, Eret pulls the doll off the nightstand, smoothing over the threads that make up its hair. She stares for a moment, mouth drawn into a sad line.
She hesitated, turning her head to the door to check, then looking back to the doll. She whispered, “Am I really about to do this…?” And, with a sigh, she nods and takes off her sunglasses. They’re set where the doll used to be, and Eret sinks further into the covers, holding the doll to her chest.
After a moment of just laying there, she starts speaking again, quietly, as she watches the rain pour outside.
“So… It’s January 16th. Almost a full week since I tried… I tried bringing you back.” She takes a moment, clearing her throat. “And… It’s raining today. Lightning’s bad too…” A shudder as she feels her eyes get wet, and a lump forms in her throat.
“And… I still don’t know how to do this without you. I-I… I’ve never been good when it came to winning over the people. I could never rally a cause like you could. Dream’s making plans and-” She laughs, trying to prevent a sob, “And I know you would’ve kicked his ass by now. You used to tell me your little daydreams of tearing that man apart and I just…”
“...I miss you,” It’s spoken like a confession, a sinner’s last hope, “I… I love you.” And she gasped after, like she’d been surprised herself. “I love you.” A laugh, “Oh my god- I love you.”
Exactly two months since Wilbur died - physically, at least. In limbo, it had been about 4 years.
He stopped clawing the walls about two years ago. The bloodied fingers just weren’t worth it anymore. And, the screaming stopped about 12 days ago. The pain of a burnt throat wasn’t worth it anymore.
The intercom messages had fizzled out long ago, just like Wilbur - at least, he assumed people weren’t thinking of him anymore.
He sighs as he settles against the bench once more, the pacing became tiring long ago. He couldn’t even smoke or drink, his life - afterlife? - an endless cycle of pacing and watching the intercom.
A warm feeling suddenly washed over him, and Wilbur cleared his throat. He tried moving his shoulders, but that feeling - one he’d call akin to a hug - wouldn’t go away.
“Uh-” He began, speaking out into the void. “Listen, I get this is supposed to be my personal hell or whatever, but if you’re going to give me phantom limbs or whatever this is, you can fuck right off-”
“It’s January 16th.” Wilbur paused, listening. The voice sounded familiar, in a way. He knew that voice, but being stuck in this hellhole has scrambled him a bit.
“Hello?” Wilbur called out.
“...I tried bringing you back.”
Wilbur looked around, and his arms tightened around himself. “Who- Who did?”
“I still don’t know how to do this without you.”
A panic built in Wilbur’s chest, tears springing to his eyes in worry. “Look, this is royally fucked- I don’t fucking care who’s doing this but don’t make me believe some- some lie-”
“I miss you-” Wilbur figured it out, then. He could remember who Eret was - He memorized their voice and their hair and the way they smiled- Wilbur knew Eret.
“I love you… Oh my god- I love you.”
The words hung in the air for Wilbur.
His mind grappled with it. In some sick twisted reality, Eret may have loved him. She loved him and betrayed him and laughed as she did it. He’d fantasized about another where he got to run L’Manburg with her by his side.
He didn’t know how long it was before he moved.
His hand lifted to where he’d assumed her hair would be. With shuddery breath, he pet the air. His arm around himself tightened, and he prayed Eret could feel him back.
“I… I love you too. I’m… Eret, I’m so sorry.”