dsmp agere one-shots

ii. healing (ghostbur & wilbur)

content warnings: talk of death and limbo

context on this one: i have a headcanon abt wilbur being sent to a limbo-like place whenever he sleeps, where he can talk to ghostbur. since he's died and been revived, i kinda hc him as constantly being stuck between the living realm and dead realm :')

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I hate him, Wilbur thinks, glaring at Ghostbur from across the train tracks. I hate it here.

It's rare Wilbur actually sleeps these days. He hates being stuck in this place, stuck with Ghostbur. It fills him with a sense of dread that he can't quite explain.

It's certainly not as bad as limbo was. He's not stuck in an underground subway, constantly scratching at the walls trying to escape. Instead, he's stuck in a giant field of flowers, with an old, rusty train-track running through it. Occasionally, trains will fly past, but they are devoid of any ghostly passengers.

It must be the train, Wilbur thinks. It reminds him of limbo. Reminds him of hundreds of things he'd rather forget.

Though, in all honesty, what truly aggravates Wilbur is Ghostbur. The ghostly version of him made up only of the few good memories Wilbur had left everyone with, a fragmented phantom with no real sense of self.

And yet, Ghostbur acts as if he doesn't have a care in the world. He spends his days carrying around jars of blue ink, picking flowers in the field, and talking to his pet sheep. Death, amnesia, and a fragmented sense of being have never once seemed to anger Ghostbur.

It makes Wilbur more frustrated than words can say; To know that his counterpart can walk through life (or Not-Life) so carefree, even after everything, while Wilbur himself feels more and more dread and misery weighing down on his shoulders day by day.

I hate him, Wilbur thinks again. But really, he does not. He can't bring himself to truly hate Ghostbur, because what has Ghostbur ever done wrong other than simply exist? What has Ghostbur ever done other than be happy?

Wilbur kicks the ground in frustration, accidentally sending dirt in Ghostbur's direction. Ghostbur simply glances up at Wilbur with a curious look, undeterred by the dirt now staining his sweater.

"Hi, Wil!" Ghostbur says, smiling. Wilbur feels a lump form in his throat, and frantically swallows it down.

"Hi." Wilbur stares blankly at Ghostbur.

"Did you need something?" Ghostbur asks, tilting his head to the side curiously. Yes, Wilbur thinks, but he isn't actually sure what it is that he needs. He needs something that will fill the enormous void in his chest before it swallows him whole. He needs to run far, far away from this godforsaken field. He needs to never see Ghostbur's face again. He needs someone to hold him in their arms, even for just a brief moment. He needs something that he cannot possibly articulate into words. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Wilbur mumbles in response, shaking his head. He sits down beside Ghostbur in the grass, feeling lightheaded and unsteady on his feet.

"You don't usually talk to me this much," Ghostbur says, glancing away from Wilbur. "I was starting to think you didn't like me."

"I don't," Wilbur responds bluntly. Ghostbur simply laughs, and it fills Wilbur with rage that Ghostbur can be so happy-go-lucky about everything.

"Here. Have this." Ghostbur turns around to grab something, and Wilbur swears to god that if Ghostbur gives him any blue ink, he's going to scream.

But Ghostbur does not. Instead, he grabs a flower crown off the ground. It's been carefully woven with daisies and dandelions, and before Wilbur can get a closer look at it, it's being plopped onto his head.

"Oh," is all he can think to say.

"I made it for you a long time ago," Ghostbur explains. "But I never got the chance to give it to you. Did you know that flowers can't die here?"

"I— No, I didn't."

"You won't ever have to worry about your crown wilting." Ghostbur smiles, and Wilbur wants to scoff. Why would he care whether or not the crown wilted?

But somewhere, deep down, Wilbur thinks maybe he does care. It's been a long time since anyone gave him anything other than a cold stare, and if he was particularly unlucky, a punch to the face.

Tiredly, Wilbur adjusts the crown so it doesn't fall off. Ghostbur grins.

"You like it!"

"It's... fine, I guess," Wilbur mumbles, looking away. Before he can turn to face Ghostbur again, he feels arms wrapping around him, and he freezes instinctively. He hasn't been hugged in what feels like, and probably actually has been, years. The touch leaves him feeling nauseated, but he doesn't hate it.

Giving in to some instinct deep within him, Wilbur collapses into Ghostbur's arms, wrapping his arms tightly around Ghostbur's waist and resting his head against Ghostbur's chest.

Wilbur doesn't realize he's crying until Ghostbur pulls away from the hug, reaching out to wipe the tears from Wilbur's face.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Ghostbur reassures. He continues trying to wipe away Wilbur's tears, but more continue to fall.

"I want my dad," Wilbur mumbles, laughing pitifully. "I don't know why that's all I can think of right now."

Ghostbur clearly doesn't know what to say to that, so he simply pulls Wilbur in for another hug, holding his counterpart as close as he can.

A few minutes of silence pass, and Wilbur's sobs die down to quiet sniffles. When Ghostbur glances back down at him, he realizes that Wilbur has taken a piece of his sweater between his teeth, chewing on the fabric absentmindedly.

"Wil," Ghostbur says softly, "that's probably not good for you."

"Mmh," is the only response Ghostbur gets. A long stretch of silence passes again.

"Uhm— Do you wanna go see Friend?" Ghostbur offers, wanting to break the uncomfortable silence. Wilbur perks up at that, nodding his head excitedly.

"Oh! Okay." Ghostbur smiles, moving to stand up, but Wilbur grabs him by the wrist, suddenly looking panicked. "Woah— Hey, what's wrong?"

"Uhm." Wilbur stares at the ground. "Didn't wan' you to leave me."

"No, no— I'm not gonna leave you." Ghostbur grabs Wilbur's hands, intertwining their fingers. "I promise I'll stay right by your side, alright?"

"Okay." Wilbur sniffles.

"Uhm— Are you sure you're okay?" Ghostbur asks warily, eyeing Wilbur with concern. Wilbur shrugs, looking far more interested in Ghostbur's hands than the actual conversation now. It takes a moment, but eventually, it clicks in Ghostbur's mind. "Hey, how old are you feeling, buddy?"

"Dunno," Wilbur mumbles in reply. "Uhm... Small. I feel small."

"That's alright, bud." Ghostbur smiles. "You can just be small, then. We don't need to put a number on it."

"Okay." Wilbur nods, smiling tiredly. "Can we go see Friend now?"

"Yes!" Ghostbur grins, standing and pulling Wilbur up with him. "They'll be so excited to see you."

The two walk across the field hand-in-hand to go see Friend, both smiling happily.

For now, the anger and void inside Wilbur have been calmed.