im so cold

FIC

Ghostbur isn't okay.

He's on the ground, his nose is bleeding, and his already blurry image is flickering dangerously.

His stomach, his death wound, is throbbing, and he's literally dead and not supposed to feel pain from it.

In the distance, he can hear Tommy and Sam arguing, but his ears are ringing, filled with sounds of a... train station?

Dream is behind him, rustling pages of his Revive Book and chanting loudly. Ghostbur gets drowsier the more he chants.

As he looks down at his body, he can make out a body that... isn't his, a brown, stained coat over a plain yellow t-shirt. Vaguely, he can feel a different person, a different personality, enter the real world.

Through his body.

Tears are welling up in his eyes at this point, and he doesn't stop them. His bright blue tears, stained with crimson, slide down his marked cheeks, leaving tear tracks that sizzle and burn.

Ghostbur doesn't want to die.

"Tommy, you said it would be okay! You said-" Ghostbur shouts and screams, seeing Tommy's horrified face, covered in scars and bruises, Sam's stone cold expression, his eyes cold and unforgiving-

-and then it all cuts to a train.

Outside of the train, he can see blood red lights, with vines of maroon twisted around them. That must be what's causing the red, Ghostbur thinks, almost deliriously.

All of the sudden, the train screeches to a halt, and rough, callous hands push him violently out of the train.

He lands on his hands, his phantom wings fluttering softly behind him.

Where am I? Prime, help me.

He stumbles to his feet. The train station is cold, freezing, at what feels like sub-zero temperature.

Looking around, he finds a lighter. Clicking the lighter a few times, he lights it up, but the flame is blue and seems to suck the warmth out of the air. Jolting back in surprise, Ghostbur blinks.

This is hopeless, isn't it? He thinks, his heart thumping unrhythmatically against his chest. I can't escape this hellhole, this hellhole that was once Alivebur's.

He curls up in a corner. He is trembling, icicles forming on his back. Wrapping his wings around him, he glances up into the air, his pure blue eyes glaring upwards. He can't maintain the anger for long. He's too cold.

"Į̸̘̦̎'̴̭͉͚̮̔̾m̸̜̘̊ ̸̜͍͍̒͆͘̕s̷̞̘̣̎͂̃õ̷̠̗̹̫̏̕ ̸̺̦͓̕͝c̵̼͇̫̘͒̃o̵͔͉̝̘͒̌̽ľ̵͉͓̗͘d̴̻̀͐̊̔," Ghostbur mutters, his grey skin turning blue with hypothermia. Tears slide down his cheeks, leaving that horrible stinging feeling.

Spirts seemed to swirl around him. Hazily, a woman appears, more solidly than the rest, through the mist. She has red hair. Ghostbur chokes down a sob. That's Sally. That's my wife, he thinks.

"Sally, oh my god... I'm so sorry..." Ghostbur sobs, his heart failing to pump. Which is technically a small matter for a ghost, but it makes him anxious, reminds him of that fateful day on November 16th, when it all went to shit.

Sally the ghost approaches him, she seems sad, even longing, but she knows this is not her Wilbur. Without saying a word, she dissolves into smoke, the rest of the spirts following suit. "No- don't leave me!" Ghostbur begs, he presses his hands to his damp eyes, trying to stop himself from crying, but quickly lowers them again. The pain feels good.

Tucking himself into a corner, legs and arms wrapped around himself, Ghostbur sits silently.

Wishing someone would come for him.