insanity

bonus chapter : translucent friend

*152 days after his death : before Wilbur was revived*

'How she grained her strength to cope against his passing'
—
Grieving was so difficult for me, even to this day, five months after he's been gone it still hits hard. Often I heard his voice ringing in my head; saying words he never said in his last few days— though then I wished so desperately he would.

I didn't reach daylight anymore. When I needed food, friends brought it to me. The world worked differently now, without him. Which Tommy and I have found our own differences in. He works hard to continue what he thinks Wilbur would have wanted. Despite the many times I've told him Will wouldn't want this or he wouldn't have died that day; he would've kept fighting— for us and for this country Tommy and Tubbo want to revive.

Meanwhile I burnt out with Will. I couldn't get up and return to work in that wretched place as if nothing happened. As if the one I loved with all my heart, the one I put my life in the line for wasn't slaughtered at his own demand; by his father.

I always knew I wouldn't be able to, even before, in the last few days, living our lives out of a cavern, I knew it wasn't for me anymore. That even when we win it all I would need a step back. Though when we did succeed, the adrenaline took over and I saw a glimmer of hope that it would be different— before the inevitable hit our history.

That's why I stay alone, tucked in my dark home. Usually with the lights off. Until this moment, when I hear a knock at my door. Taking a peak, pulling a corner of the curtains to the side— Tubbo? Confused on why he was here now, as he was very busy these days. When she was gifted a visitor it was usually Tommy for a few minutes before she was alone once again. Though she wasn't disappointed by this, just confused.

Twisting the doorknob, opening the door slowly and not completely. "Hey, Tubbo?" I spoke, "Are you alright?" His face looked frazzled; as if he'd seen a ghost or something. Almost as pale as one in this moment.

He swallows hard, "Uhm, can you follow me? Please?" The tone in his voice ignited a piece of my brain I hadn't heard from in awhile.
The one that was always there when either Tubbo or Tommy were at risk or harm. I had never thrown shoes on so quickly. Assuming something bad was happening.

The walk to wherever was quite, to say the least. Leading to— Tommy's  house? With the blond boy standing proudly outside with company of another; who I'd never seen before. My eyebrows furrowed. A being of some sort with skin on the gray scale— almost translucent? Hovering slightly over the green grass that felt brighter while this thing was in presence. Dressed in black denim and a familiar toned yellow sweater, and a burgundy beanie. Both items bringing back a deep imbedded memory in my brain from over a year ago now. Bright blue stitching messily across its chest. "What the hell?" I whisper, apparently loud enough for both Tommy and this thing to hear.

"Oh! Hello y/n! I'm Ghostbur!" Floating close to me, inches away from my face. His tone sounded broken as ones would when crying; but with obvious happy undertones and intention that changed the meaning of its inflection.

Now it knows my name, worrying enough how the hell something clearly ghost like made it to the over world. Or if I was only dreaming, having one of my many episodes. "Who— How does it know who I am?" My brain moving too quick to determine anything logical; looking at Tommy desperately for answers.

Though before he could answer, it all clicked.

Ghost-bur, the yellow sweater, the stitches in the middle of its chest. The beanie, a classic staple of his existence.

It was my Wilbur; only different.
He was actually— happy?

While he floats around me in a circle.
"W-Wilbur?" I stutter, believing this all to be a sick joke. It couldn't be real. Maybe because it technically wasn't.

"Oh, no I'm not Wilbur. I'm just Ghostbur!" He cheers, soaring around.

Tubbo shakes his head confused, "The only explanation for something like this is the manifestation of the Wilbur counterpart having unfinished business in the over world. We just don't know what that is yet, whether it's in general or L'manberg— or even you."

My mind wizzes around a mile a minute. Trying to figure it all out as I go, an unhealthy trait. "So, if you're not Wilbur, then how do you know who I am?"

Ghostbur settled in front of my face once more, "Oh y/n! How could I not remember you! You're only in every happy memory Wilbur owned, if anything you're practically how I got here in the first place!" He smiles brightly.

In every happy memory he owned.

'owned'.

Past tense; breaking down in my mind that he is truly gone, and is not returning. Enough to give closure, so I could be healthy— or on the path to start such knowing I could never return to complete wellness again; for decades upon one another.

Maybe a positive beginning to this new chapter, a reminder that there was happiness left between our souls. Now I could spend time some time getting to meet him again, only a different variation. One that could never fill the void in my heart where Wilbur would always lay; but give some company to make that void a little less dark.