Finally, finally, Wilbur will be getting what he wants for once. The proper ending, the ending where he's happy, not Dream, not y/n, but him. Wilbur looks down at Dream's pathetic frame as he's laying down on the ground, sobbing.
"How's it feel, Dream? To be stripped everything you care about?" He asks, not a trace of sympathy nor remorse behind his words.
Dream looks down at his hands, not mumbling a single word. His mouth dry, his throat raw, no tears left to cry. Everything seeped from him, leaving him weak and alone.
At the lack of a response Wilbur scoffs, "you haven't even looked at me once."
Dream slowly lifts his head up, eyes watering, disheveled and powerless.
"I'm ashamed at what I've become," he admits, squeezing his eyes shut.
"You've killed everyone who's ever loved you, Dream," Wilbur continues, his voice even. "Why's that?"
"Because no one can love me," Dream answers after a long pause of silence.
Power is everything to Wilbur, as to Dream. Wilbur wanted Dream to be by his side for this, but Dream unfortunately got attached. Not to power, but to y/n. He got attached and that what makes him weak. He should've killed her long ago when he had the chance.
Wilbur rolls his eyes, I mean, how could they have possibly thought that I was the good guy?
Dream lays only a few feet in front of Wilbur. He smiles, Dream got a perfect view of the show. Wilbur wipes the blood off the dagger with the end of his sleeve, wrinkling his nose in disgust as he looks down at the pitiful scene.
"You see Dream, that's the difference between you and me." Wilbur starts, Dream looks up at him, shaking.
"We're both alike in the fact that we make these huge elaborate plans, always striving for more power, willing to do anything it takes to finish the job... but you, you my friend were never really committed, were you? There was always one thing holding you back from true power," Wilbur leans his head over towards y/n's lifeless body, giving Dream a fake frown, "her." His eyes darken as he looks up at the sky, "them."
Dream forces his eyes shut. Wilbur only laughs bitterly, turning away from the utterly broken man. Before he can take another step he hears Dream's pleading voice.
"Just end it," Wilbur turns back around the face him. Dream looks up at him, his voice hoarse. "Kill me."
Wilbur scowls, "I'm giving you a chance, there's still one for you, Dream! We can be the most powerful duo together," He points at Dream "and you know that! Don't throw away this opportunity. You know that if you die, this time it'll be permanent, right?"
"I know," Dream nods. He knew it all too well and he never wanted something more. "End it now, please, just kill me. Kill me, Wilbur, I beg you."
Wilbur looks at him for a moment, disgust and bewilderment clouding his expression. He shakes his head, a malicious look suddenly crossing his face as he places the dagger into Dream's quivering hands.
"Do it yourself, you pathetic fuck," Wilbur scoffs. "I'm done doing your dirty work for you."
Wilbur watches as Dream grabs the dagger, almost all of y/n's blood wiped clean off the blade. With trembling hands he presses the tip of the dagger against his chest. He breaths heavily, his sobs making it hard for him to hold the weapon steady.
"We could've been powerful, Dream. You could've been be powerful. You could've been be in control again. Just like you wanted. Everything could've been under your control. Everything could've been yours." Wilbur whispers, Dream only shakes his head slowly.
Everything...
Dream's everything is already dead. And soon he will be too.
_________
Tubbo sighs as he sits down, the sun starting to dip low in the sky. The willow tree he sits under providing him with cool shade. He back rests against the trunk of the tree, beside him sits the solemn grave.
Y/n's grave.
It's been a little over six months and Tubbo has gone everyday to visit. He talks to her about his day, about what's he loves and what he regrets. He tells her everything as if she was still alive. He talks and talks, he talks about everything he wasn't able to say when she was alive. He apologizes, every day, knowing it'll never be enough.
"Tubbo?" He looks up and sees Tommy sitting on the bench under the weeping willow tree. The bench. Their bench. His eyebrows furrow in surprise, Tommy usually doesn't join Tubbo on his daily trips to y/n's grave.
Tommy tries his best to forget and move on, but they both know his attempts are futile. From out of his pocket Tommy takes out a singular disc. Tubbo's eyes widen slightly, Mellohi. A sense of nostalgia overcomes him, the battles, the wars, the betrayals, the relationships, all because of the discs. The discs and their will to live, to be independent, their friendship.
Tommy slips the disc into the jukebox that sits next to the bench. A soft familiar hum starts to emit from it, spreading across the quiet clearing.
Tubbo grabs his ukulele from its spot on the grass beside him. His hand flies over the familiar cords as he closes his eyes and strums along with the music. He matches it almost exactly, his fingers moving expertly across the strings.
Tommy doesn't even notice as tears start to fall down his face. Soon, Tubbo's own cheeks are also streaming with tears.
Tommy stands up, walking over and placing a comforting hand on Tubbo's shoulder.
"We should go," He suggests, his voice quiet and muffled by his silent cries.
Tubbo shakes his head, "you can go, I'll catch up soon," Tommy reluctantly agrees and pats Tubbo's shoulder gently as he heads off towards their house.
Tubbo let's out a long, tired sigh. There was still so much. So much he still wanted to say. So much he still wanted to do.
If only he could see her again, one more time.
His thoughts are suddenly interrupted as he hears a familiar voice behind him.
"Tubbo?" He turns his head to see Wilbur.
"Wil," he musters a half-hearted smile.
Wilbur tilts his head to the side, looking at Tubbo. "You're still doing this?" He asks, waving vaguely at the scene in front of him. Tubbo nods, he's been returning here ever since he heard about y/n's death. "Such a shame that Dream killed y/n, huh?" Wilbur sighs with a frown.
Tubbo nods again, swallowing the painful lodge stuck in his throat. "Yeah, I never thought he'd actually do something like that."
Wilbur shakes his head sadly, "I know."
"It's a good thing you were there," Tubbo continues. "You killed Dream," he looks up at Wilbur, a look of admiration on his face. "You saved us, Wil, you're the hero."
Wilbur closes his eyes against the sting of tears. He can recall it in his mind. The moment when he had plunged the dagger, dealing the killing blow to y/n. The moment when he saw her lifeless body in Dream's arms as he sobbed uncontrollably. The moment when he had handed Dream the weapon, watching as he took his own life. Wilbur slowly opens his eyes, gazing down at y/n and Dream's graves, both places next to each other.
He was the hero.
Wilbur starts to smile.
End
