the last | awesamdude

Ch. 9 - The Anniversary and the Angry Kissing

Asteria

***

The morning after, I had never been so happy. I felt unstoppable. He kissed me, after all this time of hoping and dreaming and fantasizing. Waking up the following morning and reminiscing his feeling just about kept me dreaming in bed, but I forced myself to get up. Perhaps the thrill of him as well as the whole "secrecy" thing made it all the more desirable.

Getting him out of my head was impossible at this point. Now I could only imagine the way his green hair felt between my fingers and his hot hands against my cold skin, while his lips couldn't stop moving against mine.

With a smile hanging on my lips and a skip in my step, I would venture the SMP with confidence. Dream no longer affected Sam or I - his stupid rule didn't stop us. For weeks, I would live my silly little life during the day but he kept me company in the evenings and late nights. We would lay on my bed, just enjoying one another. It was natural, curling up with him. It was almost like our bodies were made for one another, our legs perfectly tangled and the crook of my neck carved expertly so his head could fit there snugly.

I was so happy.

But, weeks passed, the days neared the anniversary of the death of Wilbur Soot. I think Sam noticed - either because he remembered, or because he could tell I was getting increasingly frustrated every day leading up to it.

And today was that day.

I went downstairs, slowly. It was late afternoon - Sam would be on his way once the sun went down. Pushing the door open revealed his room, slowly. Every aspect of him was displayed here. I ran my fingers over the desk that had collected dust over the last year. His songbook was left open, with words messily scrawled over it. I could just about make out the words "Jubilee Line" at the top of the page. His guitar was leaning up against the desk. To my left, his bed was made, almost as if he knew he weren't coming home to sleep in it anymore. His red beanie, similar to the one belonging to his friendly ghost counterpart, was on the pillow. The walls were covered in words from newspapers, words he'd written, and a few pictures. There were pictures of me, some of Tommy and Tubbo, and of Phil.

The one propped up on his bedstand, though, was a favorite to us both.

Philza had taken the picture. I was about fifteen, and he was seventeen. We were in a tree, both hanging upside down with huge smiles on our faces. My hair was cut short in a bob, because a few weeks beforehand Wilbur spit gum in it and I had to chop it all off. God, I was so mad at him and I though I would never forgive him. Yet here we were in this photo, smiling at each other and being happy the way best friends do.

What changed?

What could possibly have changed?

The Wilbur I knew wouldn't have blown up a nation he loved so dearly. Hell, a remake of the L'Manberg flag was sat atop a shelf above his bed. And he sure as hell wouldn't have left me the way he did. We cared about each other more than anyone, since we were all we had after Phil went to live in his Hardcore world.

Suddenly, I was mad. I wasn't sad. How could he? He left me to battle Dream and figure out life all on my own, just because...I don't even know why he did it! Wilbur left me with not so much as a reason. I know we were on opposing sides the whole time, but I'd never wanted the country to be demolished as it was.

My fist came down on his desk in a fit of frustration.

Before I could possibly break anything out of rage that has built up over the past year, I stormed out and threw on a coat.

***

He let me in immediately.

"Asteria, hi. What are you doing here? I was just about to head over." Sam smiled at me.