c!Wilbur in postmortal by Khio, a c!crimeboys fic about grief
Credits below:
postmortal, ch 1 (1-3) // Tianyi Zhou // nightferns // Fortesa Latifi // Vicente Aleixandre, Sound of the War; A Longing for the Light: Selected Poems // WolfyTheWitch, Forget Me Not // WolfyTheWitch, I heard there was a special place. // unknown // artisanalgarbage // Sophocles, Antigone (2, 4) // qtiq, your tommy // postmortal, ch 2 (3, 5-6, 8, 10-11) // hivemindscape // Pixabay // Anne Louis Girodet-Trioson, Burial of Atala // DSMP // Sue Zhao, I loved you in all the ways that I could // you are my sunshine // Jack Stauber’s Micropop, Just Take My Wallet // Cyborg Blood, By Your Hand // Albert Baertsoen, Snow in the Afternoon (Snow-Covered Village) // Ricky Montgomery, Snow // Tomo, Oh Love // everbloominggarden // Ludvík Barták, Winter Forest // Lemony Snicket, Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can't Avoid // Holly Warburton (x, x) // Adam Melchor, Real Estate // Keaton Henson, You (11, 14) // DSMP // Jean-Paul Sartre // postmortal, ch 3 (12-13, 15) // idalus // copepods // Casey Horner // funkygraveyards // Natalie Díaz, American Arithmetic; Postcolonial Love Poem // Franz Holper, Winter Landscape near Davos // postmortal, ch 4 (15-18) // iriskasosiska // unknown // qtiq // Jamie Anderson // Knp, Good Grief // Reinaeiry, Immortal
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At the height of a dirt pile, Wilbur precariously watches a nearby dirt tower disappear into the clouds. Tommy is in front of him, on a pile of dirt itself, behind the third and much taller tower.
Wilbur looks Tommy in the eye with a shaky smile as he speaks.
"So what is this about?"
Tommy's eyes gaze unblinkingly at his soul, opaque from the light he remembers, and he answers in a vague, weary tone of voice despite being so young."The tower,"–wil's eyes go to the third tower for a second –"You don't really want to know about the tower". There is no inflection in the dry tone.
"Well- I do-" Wilbur hurries on his words "I mean you said it hurt you-he HURT you with it. What did he...? Did he like watch you?"
His voices overlap on the last question, Tommy looks away as he continues speaking. "E'vryday, Dream will come while I was on my hole- MY EXILE!" His vacant gaze turns wild as he meets Wilbur's eyes again. "Every single day Dream while come here and he would erase my progress. He would erase quite frankly every WILL TO LIVE, that I used to have and everyday I think"
Tommy's voice trembles with a sour smile and the raw gaze pierces through Wilbur's soul.
"Maybe I will get better- MAYBE there be hope that people will show at the party...
Maybe Ghostbur would- would start seeing me again "The initial shock and confusion gives way to a jumble of panic and nerves in Wilbur's stomach. He thinks he might throw up and doesn't know when he stopped breathing.
"And everyday a little bit of that hope left,
and left,
and left.
Until I broke."
Wilbur's eyes hold the tears that will never fall from Tommy's, too tired, too empty to cry anymore.
"This tower
Tommy and Wilbur lock eyes. Panic prevents him from speaking as Tommy looks at him resignedly, praying it isn't true. Praying that it's just a dream, a lie and his Tommy isn't-!
... is where I went to kill myself."
Everything spins and Wil's legs feel weak. His eyes hurt but he doesn't feel the tears and a beeping sound rings in his ears. He gasps for air, for the revelation, for his Tommy, his (sweet and loud Tommy, proud and kind Tommy and young, young, terribly young–) Tommy that tried to kill himself and the beeping increases. He thinks he's dying with his chest on fire. It burns, it aches looking down and wondering if this is what he saw Tommy in the tower disappearing into the clouds. The beeping continues as his thoughts spin. Did he see freedom in this? Did Tommy see resignation or despair by-?
"...because of Dream"
Tommy's voice cuts off with the train.
A huge horn bangs on Wilbur's eardrums and all the sound is being drowned out by the train wheels hitting the tracks. Wil gasps, eyes wide with terror, bolting upright on the bench. He breathes heavily as he looks around frantically.
The station, he's at the train station. The train is speeding past him with no obvious end and he wonders when he fell asleep. He runs a hand through his brown hair and takes a deep breath trying to calm his pounding.
It was a dream...
Wilbur was still in the limbo. He didn't revive him, there was no burger truck, no fight with Quackity, no Las Nevadas, no death of Ranboo, and most importantly-!
There was no tower
Dry, humorless laughter, Wil leans back on the bench staring up at the ceiling to the sound of the train flooding the station. He allows himself to calm down, relaxes his body into the weathered wood, and sighs. He closes his eyes.
Feels like decades since he heard the train pass in his limbo and the infinite sound seems to think the same without stopping. Not that Wilbur expected any to stop at his station.
Which is just what happens, with a metallic screech Wilbur hears the train stoping and sees the doors pulling up right in front of him. His heartbeat quickens, is Dream here to take him back? Is his dream of him coming true?
The worn gates slowly open in this place of Satan.
Willbur holds his breath.
A silhouette takes shape and color behind the open doors.
Willbur thinks he could scream, break down sobbing, and never get back together all over again.
There, in front of him, is Tommy.
His proud and passionate Tommy ,
bleeding out.
Dead.
Tommy, his Tommy, but older, more tired; duller scraped against rocks to create rough, jagged edges, old wounds and new wounds. Bruises, marks and bleeding cuts. On her virgin skin and under her worn-out clothes. Until it doesn't look like clothes and it's just dirty cloth protecting a fragile body.
That Tommy, step one foot off the train; and then the other, echoing in the silence. Will looks blankly at Tommy and he looks back at him. Dull, hollow blue reflecting Will's shocked and desperate expression in his iris, patterned.
"Hello Wilbur"
The doors slam shut behind Tommy.
"Tommy?...Wha-what are you doing here? You..." Wilbur lets out a rough laugh. "You're not supposed to be here."
Metal screeches, the train moves on the tracks but Tommy doesn't react and Wilbur can't help but watch the blood run down his face.
He starts at his forehead, falling in red drops from her lashes with every blink and picks up speed in the curve of his cheek; only to fall from the edge of his chin to the ground.
Tommy's dripping blood is driving him crazy and only one question to ask.
The shaky smile that Will had been holding falls. "What happened?" The question is whispered into the silence, in a soft voice that sounds too much like the Wilbur Tommy used to know and adore.
That Tommy, who would follow Wil to the end, would have a lump in his throat.This Tommy not.
It's not a demand, it doesn't sound like one, but they both know they can't let it drop.
The question goes over all the station.
"I..."
Wilbur expected the obvious, Tommy was dead. His Tommy was...
He expected an "I died" or "They killed me", anything but...!
"....kill myself"
This.
He didn't have to ask why.
"...because of Dream."
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