I Can't Remember

[10] Wilbur gets Spooked Into Oblivion By (??)

"Wilbur, you can talk to dead people, you can talk to me!" the older man spoke. He rested his hands on Wilbur's shoulders. Wilbur tried to shrug them away but they wouldn't budge. "Don't you realise? This is the biggest thing you can hang over their heads!"

"I don't want to do that," Wilbur pleaded, looking around the station. This was the last place he would achieve his goals. Goals of tranquility. "I'm trying to live a peaceful life, S-"

"All that power, all that respect! You can have it back! You can have it all back, Wilbur just let me..."

A maniacal grin took over the man's face

"Let me show you how"

Wilbur jolted awake with a gasp. Instantly, his hand went to his shoulder, sending him tumbling back into the sheets. His body heaved with exhaustion. He tried to focus on the floorboards, the sheets, the wall, the closet, whatever he could find, but his eyes were unresponsive. In the end, he decided to just shut them. Wilbur's face scrunched up in pain as he tried to tune out the remnants of his dream. He ran his other hand carefully through his hair, which was still damp with sweat.

Wilbur tried to breathe, but every gasp for breath was like another stab to his shoulder. Every little sensation felt too much yet too little. He tried to concentrate on something, anything that didn't remind him of his misery, but all he could hear was his heartbeat in his ear and a scream in his throat.

It took Wilbur a few minutes to muster enough strength to push himself up. He pulled away from the thick and dampened sheets and silently got off the bed. He stumbled to his closet and sorted through his collection of potions. He slowly picked up a bottle, blue-grey liquid glowing softly inside it. Wilbur's unsure and trembling hands barely gripped the neck of the bottle. Before he could drop it, Wilbur drank the whole bottle.

Wilbur slinked back to his bed, already feeling the effects of the weakness potion numb out his pain. He sat back down on the bed and ran his hands through the musty cloth. He did his best to feel the softness of the sheets and the perfect memory foam of the bed's mattress.

It had been years since Wilbur had found such comfort. He didn't need to sleep in limbo, seeing as he didn't possess a physical body. His L'Manberg days were spent on the floor or a stiff mattress. He couldn't sleep on a comfortable bed when his people suffered from such poverty. So, he slept next to the children, hoping that his stories and hair ruffles offered enough comfort to get them through the night. Even when he found richness in his country, all his resources went to develop L'Manberg. So the president decided that hey, maybe the floor wasn't as bad!

Of course, his people wouldn't have it. They collected enough money to buy a bed and a mattress from the prime market. It didn't give much comfort, but the love that wrapped Wilbur every time he looked or sat on the mattress was overwhelming. So he slept.

Surprisingly, being an outcast gave better resources than being a president of a flourishing country. Or maybe that was just another advantage of living with Technoblade. Either way, he got a bed. A broken bed, with a ratty mattress, but a bed nonetheless. It didn't matter, though. Wilbur mostly slept on the rocky floor anyway. He couldn't let his stupid brother lie on the floor while he enjoyed a bed! So Tommy slept in Wilbur's bed, and Wilbur slept in Mother Earth's arms.

So, after all these years, even the idea of physical comfort was foreign. Nonetheless, he had gotten used to being in the worst physical state possible. He had died so many times, each more painful than the last. Maybe it was time to enjoy his life? Slow down? Let go for once?

Wilbur looked next to him. Tommy was still sleeping peacefully. Good. he still had nightmares from everything the server's owner had done to him. God, if Ghostbur wasn't such a fucking idiot, maybe he would've protected Tommy. Or at least told someone. Then again, it's not like Wilbur did any better when he was alive.

Taking a shuddering breath, Wilbur leaned on the bedrest. He watched the sun slowly shine on them. Tommy's hair glittered in the cheerful sunlight, as did Wilbur's tears. The weakness potion definitely dulled the pain in his shoulders....but the fighter's instinct cried out within him, begging him to fight the sluggishness of his own body. His mind ached to calm, to slow down, but his brain was hell-bent on snatching away any peace and quiet he could get.

Wilbur's communicator made a sound. He picked it up, only to have his lungs emptied of its remaining air. He tried to calm himself down, to take in his surroundings, but his body was not in his control anymore.

"Wil? Wil?! What's wrong?!"

Tommy rushed to his brother's rescue, making him sit upright and running to their shared chest. He pulled out an inhaler and shoved it in Wilbur's hands. Wilbur gasped, taking in as much air as he could. The two boys sat like that for several minutes– Wilbur slowly taking deep breaths, and Tommy running his fingers through Wilbur's hair and holding the inhaler to his mouth. After Wilbur had found enough strength to breathe on his own, Tommy threw a glance at Wilbur's communicator. He didn't understand the message, but it must have caused Wilbur's downward spiral.

this place will be a lot different tomorrow

Some old, rusty, distant warning bell rang in Tommy's mind, but he decided to ignore it. Sure, the sentence sounded familiar, but with all the changes that had happened on this server, he wouldn't be surprised if one of his friends had once said it to him.

"It's okay, Wilby, I'm here," Tommy said soothingly. Wilbur nodded slowly. He put his head on Tommy's shoulder. The latter put an arm around Wilbur's shoulder and rested his palm on his head. Slowly, Wilbur drifted into an uneasy slumber. Tommy stared at the device for some seconds, then deleted the message. His brother didn't need to panic over a stupid text.

Oh, If only he knew.

[27-06-2022]