NOTE: ITS UR FAVORITE AUTHOR HERE IM BACK
Crime boys angst
Wilbur hated the way the sun cast long shadows on his work. It provided the perfect cover for the small entrance to the dark raven. All Tommy and Techno's hard work. What a waste. Wilbur didn't care when he found Techno sitting near the caves entrance talking to his father's crows. He couldn't bring himself to stop as he screamed and lashed out at Tommy. He could not stop as he swung or kicked the boy. Wilbur would tell them to pry the bottle out of his dead cold hands. He sat at the bottom of Pogtopia spiraling into something so far beyond the concept of health. There was no sanity left for Wilbur to grasp a hold of. No hope was left. The dark corners of the raven that he was forced to call home had chased away the bright and happy feelings. Wilbur reached out and tried to grasp the invisible strings that tied him to those he used to love. The love, the care, the security, had all faded. Those he used to lean on and trust. The strings were to taut that they might snap. He wanted them to snap. Oh the joy of not giving a single fuck about the useless people that surrounded him. The thought spread under his skin. It was hot. Like the fire that would soon surround the pitiful nation he had built. His sunset, his unfinished symphony. No one would be able to take that away. L'Manberg was his creation and no one would ever be able to take that away. His, all his. He did not care for the ground that he walked on. Not the buildings that stood high and tall. He wanted to watch them all burn. He wanted to witness the painful betrayal that everyone would feel. Surely they would all blame him, hate him even. He would surely be dead. He would finally feel free. He felt almost giddy as he went to his button room. Wilbur ran his hands along the walls. Every single scratch and divot in the rock. The final button on the wall. The Redstone to all the TNT linked to this very spot. All Wilbur had to do was push the button. Oh How he waited for this silly moment. His final act. His final use of his voice. So why did he hesitate? It stared back at him as the seconds ticked by. He paced behind his chair. Every step echoed into his skull. He didn't keep track of time. Wilbur was sure that hours had passed by now. He still heard the war waging in the center of L'Manberg. His creation. His downfall. His masterpiece in the puzzle of life. His page in the history book. "Oh my L'Manberg, look what has come of you. You were meant to be so much more. You could have been so much more." Wilbur whispered to the words on the walls. The room spun. "What would it have taken for you to be more?" And with that Wilbur jumped up and reached out his long arm. The door swung open and there stood his father. Quite the father he had been. So very distant. Only there to stop Wilbur from ending the stupid life that he had been cursed with. "Whatcha doing mate?" the man said, leaning against the door frame. "I could end it. It will be over. No more silly feuding. No more war. Phil isn't that what you want? Peace?" Wilbur said gripping at his hair. "There are other, better ways to end conflict Will." Phil said, eyeing his middle child. "I'm sorry dad. It just wasn't meant to be." Wilbur said, looking at his feet and slamming his hand down on the button. The room shook and the wall cracked and blew at them. Chunks of rock fell on Wilbur, sending him back. No doubt Phil had also been blown to the opposite wall. The explosions boomed and shook the ground. The minutes felt like hours. When the ground stilled and the air settled Wilbur rose from the pile of rubble. He walked to the now cliff. The wall of the room was completely gone. Wilbur looked down at the crater and fell to his knees. "Phil... Phil, kill me." Wilbur pleaded. He could not take his eyes off the huge hole. "Please Phil, Kill me. Kill me now." Wilbur continued to plead. "No. No You're my son. I won't. I can't kill you Will." Phil collapsed on his knees and held his Wilbur's face. It was so heartbreakingly gentle. "Please... Dad." Wilbur's voice broke. Tears, hot ones leaking out of his eyes. Phil looked at him, knowing, always knowing. This had to happen. It was all for the best. Wilbur did not feel the pain as a blade went through his chest. He only heard the panic cries of his friends. The screams of his family. He sunk down further onto his dad. Hurried steps were approaching but Wilbur's vision was blurring. He was pulled onto someone else. Drops of water fell onto his face that were not his own. His eyes raised to the person who cradled his body. Tommy sat rocking him. Crying. He was badly injured. There was blood. So much blood on his face. The tears had carved tracks down his cheeks. "Oh, Wilbur." He sobbed. Pulling the man closer. Wilbur's hand shakily moved up. It rested on the boy's cheek. His little brother, his pride and joy. The kid that so loyally stuck by his side. "Ahh, My own personal sunset." Wilbur whispered. The setting sun was behind Tommy, casting bright rays of orange onto his dirty hair. Wilbur was not, however, referring to the sky. "My.. Tomms'' He shuttered out. And with his dying breath. Everything went black.
_
Wilbur woke up in a smoky plane. It was dark but it slightly resembled a train station. The whirring of a train grew steadily louder from the distance. The lights rounded the corner and there was a bright red train. It stopped directly in front of him. Its doors opened, as if saying 'Welcome newly deceased!' Wilbur stepped through the sliding doors and took a seat in the center of the area. He laid down and watched the ceiling as he felt the train continue to move.
