Chapter Text
Revival. A second chance at life. It’s something people wish for. Something most wish for. Wilbur didn’t wish for revival, so why is he back? He knows the answer to that. Dream. Dream revived him for his own gain, to get the upper hand. Just like he had with Tommy.
Tommy.
Wilbur was sure that his younger brother hated him along with everyone else on the server. Out of everyone he had wronged, he wronged Tommy the most.
That’s why he was going to apologize to him. He would be the last person he would ever talk to.
Wilbur was going to kill himself.
Tommy would be the last person to hear his voice.
Wilbur told Tommy to meet him in the ruins of L'Manburg. The country they had created together, the country he had destroyed with his own hands. Just one of the many things he's ruined.
Wilbur waited patiently for Tommy to meet up with him. Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into hours. As the sun started to set it became very clear to him.
Tommy wasn't coming.
He shouldn't be surprised. All he had done was ruined Tommy's life time and time again. He couldn't wait for him here, shouldn't wait.
Wilbur already knew how he was going to die. Last time he went out with a bang that would be in future history books. This time, he would go out peacefully. He'll go to Paradise where he can be alone. He'll drink a potion that will kill him quickly and painlessly as he watches the sun rise. It's funny, the sun rising was what he first saw after being revived, and now it will be the last thing he'll ever see.
By the time he had gotten to Paradise, the sun had yet to rise. He already brewed his potion beforehand, so all that was left to do was soak in his final moments of life. He sat down in front of the burger van, which was only created as a way to piss off Quackity.
Quackity. How many times had Wilbur harassed the poor man? He was charming, intelligent, strategic, and Wilbur spent all of his time trying to get under his skin instead of actually learning about him.
No. He can’t die thinking of any regrets. He was apologizing to everyone so he could die with closure. He didn’t want to be trapped at that train station again, playing solitaire for all of eternity. In Wilbur’s mind, if he dies this way, there will be no need for limbo.
Wilbur stares up at the twinkling stars in the night sky as he imagines what death will be like this time. Would his mother finally accept him into her peaceful nothingness? He couldn’t help but find humor in the ridiculousness of that thought.
‘The son of the Goddess of Death is going to kill himself. Ain’t that fitting?’ He silently thought to himself. Silence. This time when he dies the only sounds he’ll hear are the ones of nature rather than explosions and the sounds of his comrades screaming as his father stabs a sword through his chest.
After a few hours of waiting for the sun to rise, Wilbur started to get unbearably restless. He grabbed his potion from his coat pocket and examined it. It was a potion of harming he had brewed so that he would die only seconds after consuming it. Wilbur was so lost in thought he hadn’t even heard the approaching footsteps.
“Ahem.” A familiar voice called out. Wilbur nearly jumped out of his own skin as he heard the voice. He looked to his right and saw Quackity staring at him.
Shit.