Forget - Me - Not

Chapter 1-I Can Hear The Canons Calling

Snow piled up. And with every snowflake that fell softly onto the ground, the lands became increasingly white with cold, soft ice.

    His pink hair blew in the cold, sharp, icy wind, which was more common in this taiga landscape than any of the others surrounding it. It was because of this, that he often wondered why he moved here in the first place.

    "Because this place is hidden-" Was what he always would say. "-Because this place offers protection."

    In the distance, Technoblade could see the glow of his snowy home. It was unfortunate that he had made the mistake of not using a horse for transportation, but walking was better.  "At least, this way, I can take my time getting back.." he thought

    His hooves trudged through the snow, taking careful, but determined steps. Many hidden dips and holes would become covered with the loose snow that fell from the nearby trees.  If you were not careful, you could twist your foot, or injure yourself by stepping into one of them. Technoblade knew this from experience. There was a peculiar scar on his left hoof that proved it.

The snow layers became steadily lower as Technoblade entered through the oak fence that stood all around their property. Philza had put up that fence. Techno had helped, but Phil had done most of the work himself back then.

He brushed his scarred hands along the oak wood bannister that climbed up along his cottage. The familiar feeling of wood splinters cutting into his fingers and the sound of an acoustic guitar was what made Technoblade breathe in the cold, fresh air contentedly, and remember that he was home. Home. Home where his family was. Where he could be himself, and not hide any longer.

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Wilbur strummed the steel strings of his guitar. His hammock was gleefully swaying left and right as if it was moving along with the melody of the song. The fire cackled below, sending waves of heat and warmth deep into the walls of the household. Wilbur closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. He was Enjoying the silence for the seconds it gave him. 

    "Were still here you know...-" A chorus of haunted voices purred within Wilbur's mind. "-We're always here..."

    Wilbur exhaled sharply. He closed his eyes tighter, his brows furrowed as he tried to block out the internal sounds of screaming that had ruined his quiet moment. The voices laughed and screeched at his vain effort.

    "Dang-it," Wilbur muttered under his breath, pausing his fingers on his guitar for a moment. He gazed upon the mural of pictures that were taped to an area of the wall.

    He and Tommy. His Tommy. The pictures were just a reminder of the one person that he cared for,  the one person now hated him even more now that he was back in the real world. Avoiding him constantly, and rarely ever returning Wilbur's kind expressions. But patient Wilbur, always said hello to him, waved to him whenever they crossed paths, and smiled at him when they were next to each other (or when Tommy DID return Wilbur's gaze,). Even though Tommy was still angry at him, still called him names behind his back,  still held onto past conflicts and decisions that were made and thrown in Wilbur's face constantly, Wilbur still loved him.

Because, after all...Everyone deserves a second chance...

    The door cracked open rather loudly, which interrupted Wilbur's train of thought The noise was then followed by a loud wall-shaking slam. Wilbur chuckled to himself quietly.

'Still slamming the doors Tommy?"  He hollered from across the lounge he was sitting in. "-Phil won't be to be pleased about that!"

His response was Tommy's pale, cheeky face glaring up at him, t, then walking away without a word.