The End is Just the Beginning (a Bad End Friends story)

Chapter 19

Wirt woke up with an odd sensation. The feeling of something missing, something important.

He sat up in his bed, but that wasn't right, was it? He usually slept on the long couch that was in his room when he arrived at the Attack Shack. His head and chest felt lighter as well.

Wirt swung around, so that his legs were hanging over the edge of the bed. He planted his bare feet on the thick orange carpeted floor. That is when it hit him.

He was in the room he slept in almost every day for fourteen years of his life before he and his brother got stuck in the Unknown.

Wirt felt his head where he was so used to finding thick branches, but he found none. He knew the absent feeling in his chest was the feeling of his lack of powers.

He rushed to the mirror on the wall and patted himself as if he expected something else to have changed. He had a bit of flab, which was understandable but strange since he was used to his hollow stomach from being malnourished.

He was also slightly shorter, but he didn't have an explanation for that. 

Wirt stared at his normal colored eyes as he tried to get a grip on what was happening.

He knew it was Bipper. It always was, but how?

Wirt couldn't figure it out because before he could get his train of thought any further, someone loudly opened his door without warning and storage right in as if he owned the place.

He was about ten years old with tousled brown hair and a round face. He was wearing a green tee- shirt with small turtles patented around it and khaki shorts.

Wirt couldn't help but laugh as he beamed down at his little brother. An expression and act he wasn't used to, but he did it nonetheless.

"What's wrong, o' brother mine?" Greg asked, his voice deeper from the last time Wirt heard it.

Wirt couldn't speak at first. For one thing, he was not used to the amount of emotions he had in the moment. Another thing was the pure, unwavering relief he had at seeing his brother for the first time in years. That he was there in front of him, happy, healthy, and unharmed.

Not to say that Wirt was not confused out of his mind. How was Greg so familiar with him as if he had never left? How was everything so normal?

It must seem as if Wirt never left for Greg, he realized quite suddenly. It seemed to be better to act as if he should go along with it to keep his brother happy.

"I am just happy, I suppose," Wirt answered, his voice more expressive than normal. Not as emotional as it had been at one point, but it was still a big change.

"Well, I sure that doesn't change our plans for a Brother's Day," Greg said, skipping over to Wirt. He stood in front of his older brother and put his hands on his hips, looking at his reflection.

"Of course not," Wirt responded.

Worrying what was happening could wait, Wirt thought, if it meant spending time with Greg.

Greg left, yelling at Wirt to get dressed, which was an interesting dilemma in itself. He had worn the same silly costume for the past two years, after all.

But he tried, anyway, for Greg.

You can tell a lot of a person from their wardrobe, and Wirt's told him a lot about who he was supposed to be to his brother and everyone else. He found multiple high school marching band shirts, which fascinated him. He also had a lot of graphic tees themed around music and poets like Dante Alighieri and Edgar Allen Poe, and he had plenty of jackets and long sleeves.