DreamSMP Oneshots

Limbo (A Ghostbur Story)

WC: 1180

It had been an hour since he arrived. Sixty minutes of heart-clenching, never-ending terror, of broken cries reaching through the vast expanse of the dimly-lit tunnel into nothing but everlasting silence. Waves of tears had slashed nasty strokes of crimson burns across Ghostbur's face, a stark contrast to his pale, almost translucent, skin. His ghostly hands were cupped around a tiny fragment of bright blue glass, a small reminder of his old life. His old life, with Friend and Tubbo and To-

No. Ghostbur let out a shuddering sigh, and directed his attention back to the blue shard, a simplicity that he could rely on in this new life. The color had always been a sort of comfort for Ghostbur. There was just something about it, something about the softness yet vibrant nature of the shade-

Ghostbur shifted his gaze to the end of the subway, to the inky blackness that shouldn't—couldn't—be crossed. Even the homey feeling that accompanied a rich, royal blue couldn't pull Ghostbur out of the misery of this place. He paced around the empty tunnel, muttering promises to himself. Promises that would be forgotten too soon.

"I won't forget," he repeated softly to himself, clenching his fists tightly together. "It was Dream. It was Dream. It was Dream. I let Tommy down. And.. well, he let me down. But it was Dream. It was Dream."

Yet, the minutes ticked by, one after another. Hours upon hours and then-

It had been a day since he arrived. He had been scared at first, yes. Hundreds of sickening thoughts had almost shredded his sanity, broken through borders that had never been crossed before. It was so much easier to feel sad in this... this place. But he still hung on to the hope that Tommy would come. There was still a sign of light shimmering through the dark, though it was growing fainter by the second. Because Tommy said that he'd be okay. So it was only a matter of time- right?

Ghostbur huddled in a corner, his back pressed hard against the damp stone walls, his ghostly limbs wrapped tightly around his fragile body. He was still scared—and lonely—but optimistic. He was always optimistic.

Hope, he told himself. Will get me out of this place.

Hope, he thought. Will save me.

Ghostbur glanced upwards, praying to some unknown force.

"Hope," he said again, his voice a near whisper. He reached down to pick up the scrap of blue glass, his only true comfort. "Hope and some blue."

But the days flew by, and there was no sign of rescue, no sign of escape from this wretched place. Too soon, a whole week had passed.

Where was Tommy? Ghostbur wondered. Sam? Tubbo? Anyone?

Suddenly, lights began to flash through the station, an eerie glow emitting from the center of the subway tunnel. A faint metallic ding sounded, bouncing and echoing through the silky shadows of the station. The hanging signs, which normally displayed a single destination, presented white blocky words that scrolled smoothly across the screen.

Wilbur's back in the real world. Sam's dealing with the situation in his own way. Tommy's angry and confused. And scared. He doesn't want Wilbur to be here, and he feels guilty about letting you down. But he's trying. He's still trying.

Ghostbur scrambled up to his feet, scanning the signs hungrily. These signs, these humble little signs, told him something, some sort of news from the world above. And though it was a simple thing, Ghostbur was grateful for it. He clutched his comforting blue shard, though it wasn't needed at that moment. Good news had finally graced the limbo. A small smile began to spread across Ghostbur's face, growing larger by the minute. Perhaps things were looking up for him.

———————————

It had been a month.

"Please, come back," Ghostbur whispered. "I know you'll come. You just need time."

The flashing messages on the signs still appeared, but much further apart than before. Time moved slowly, and all Ghostbur could do was wait.

Two months. Then six. And finally, a year.

"I won't give up," Ghostbur mumbled. "I have hope. Always."

But he'd forgotten so much. Who had killed him? Who had taken him here, to this dark and decrepit tunnel? This sorry little subway station?

"It was..." Ghostbur squeezed his eyes shut tightly. "It was... it was someone. I don't know anymore. But I do know I let Tommy down. And I think he might've done the same to me. But I- I let him down."

Tears sprung to the corners of his eyes. He quickly swiped them away, ignoring the sharp pain that came as the salty liquid touched his skin.

"I want Friend," he cried out, his sobs echoing through the shadowy tunnel. "I want Tommy and Tubbo and Ranboo and Friend. And I want to apologize to everyone. Because I let Tommy down. I let him down and I-"

Ghostbur let out a shaky gasp.

"I LET HIM DOWN!"

His scream filled the station, the sound ricocheting down the subway. It was a shout full of agony, of grief. Of fear and boiling anger. And most of all, it was a cry of guilt. Ghostbur bent over, his shoulders heaving with painful sobs. He mumbled to himself, indistinguishable words blending into a long chain of heartbroken cries. The tragic scene displayed a sharp contrast to Ghostbur's normally cheerful disposition.

But Ghostbur still remembered the one thing that had brought him comfort from the very beginning of this terrible journey. The blue glass. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tiny shard, staring deep into its shiny surface. Perhaps the rich blue shade should have felt like a blessing to Ghostbur. And once, it had. But today it felt like a curse. A reminder of what he was missing, a reminder of the sharp division between his limbo and the living world above.

Without thinking, Ghostbur raised his arm and threw as hard as he could. His cherished blue, the one belonging that had kept him sane during the last year, was gone in an instant. It smashed into the tunnel's edge, shattering into a thousand itty-bitty fragments. Ghostbur knelt down, staring blankly at the remains of his precious blue glass. He was shocked, startled by his own sudden action. He hadn't really meant to do it- it had just... happened.

And then Ghostbur wept. He wept for his own sorry situation. He wept for Tommy, whom he'd let down. He wept for Wilbur, who was quickly reverting back to his old manipulative ways. And he wept for himself- his own fears and desperations and wishes.

And then, just as quickly as the storm had arrived, the thundering rain ceased. Ghostbur looked up to the sky— or where it would have been in the dark tunnel— and smiled.

"Hope," he proclaimed. "In this twisted reality, all we can do is hope. For a better day, a better future, a better life. All we can do is hope. So I will."

AN: I hope you enjoyed this! There should be a story about Techno & Phil sometime so look out for that!