It'd gotten dark, and things had calmed down, as much as they could have for a nation having just been blown up by the man who created it. It was late and people had gone to sleep. Tommy hadn't. Or rather, couldn't. He quietly snuck out, not wanting anyone to see where he was going -- towards that hill where the button was.
Why am I doing this? What am I even doing?
He shook his head and kept walking. He came up to what was left of the room and stopped, staring at the walls for a moment, a bit in shock at seeing his brother's scribbles of the L'Manburg anthem covering them.
God, he really had lost it, hadn't he?
Tommy read over the anthem on the walls in Wilbur's messy handwriting. He thought about how much he missed how things were back in L'Manburg, how he wished things could have stayed the way they were. He remembered when things were good, times before he'd gone through wars and deaths and exiles and losing nations. He looked at the writing itself, its barely legible scribbles and disjointed lettering, and wondered if he should have known this was coming, if there was anything he could have done to stop Wilbur from going crazy.
Then he looked to his brother on the floor of the room, blood staining his shirt.
... Wilbur-
Tommy fell to the floor over him, tears silently streaming down his face. He shakily ran his hand through the air over where the wound was from their father's diamond sword and then buried his face in his brother's chest, clutching the edges of Wilbur's trench coat. He cried quietly, head down and holding Wilbur's coat in his hands loosely and wishing for anything that he could change what had happened. He didn't even care if he was crazy, he wanted his brother back.
I just want my brother back... I can't-
Then suddenly, as he cried, Tommy's hold on the edges of Wilbur's coat changed. He gripped it tighter and tighter and lifted his head a bit. Tears still falling down his cheeks, his mouth began to twist to a smirk, and an unsettling laugh began to accompany his crying. His eyes widened a bit, and he pulled his grip on the coat closer to him, pulling the body up off the floor a bit with it. He tilted his head back a little, and soon his laughter filled the room. Tommy stood up from his place on the floor, let go of the trench coat, and pulled his hands back through his hair. Still laughing to an empty, blown up room, he aggressively wiped tears off his face with the sleeve of his red and white shirt. Then, Tommy reached down and took the coat off his brother's cold and lifeless body on the floor of the button room, clutching it tightly in his arms. And with a distorted smile on his face, he decided,
I'm going to go home.
YOU ARE READING
Come And Get Me
FanfictionWilbur built a nation with his little brother, destroyed it, and got himself killed. How is Tommy meant to cope with the death of his older brother and keep his own sanity? Maybe Wilbur was right, it was never meant to be. ---- Updating on Fridays :]
