a series of sbi oneshots

hallucinations and hugs

Honestly, getting resurrected was not all it was cracked up to be. Waking up in a coffin six feet under was utterly terrifying, and digging your way out was even worse.

But, in Wilbur's humble opinion, the entire ordeal was worth it if only to see the sunrise that awaited him.

For maybe an hour or two after his rebirth, Wilbur just sat above his final resting place, spitting dirt out of his mouth and staring at the open sky.

"Huh," he eventually whispered. It was the first word he had spoken since begging Phil to put him down.

After that, it had taken Wilbur another half hour to stand and walk out of his gravesite. He was surprised by how exhausted every step made him, his very bones weighing him down into the earth he had just escaped from. Wilbur had frankly expected to feel well-rested from death, but instead, his entire body felt weak and uncomfortable, like his own skin wasn't meant to hold him anymore.

Still, Wilbur pushed on, stumbling down the pathways of the SMP and tracing his way around the edges of L'Manberg. Or rather, what should have been L'Manberg.

It wasn't much of anything anymore.

Wilbur didn't know how to feel about that, so instead, he kept walking.

The man made it to Tommy's house around noon.

The building was just as shabby as Wilbur remembered it, but despite its status as an eyesore, the familiarity was a breath of fresh air. Still stumbling slightly, Wilbur made his way to the front door, raising his hand to knock.

At the last moment, he pulled his knuckles away from the wood. What if...?

The entrance was unlocked. Gleefully, Wilbur let himself in, closing the the door silently behind him.

Tommy would be so excited to see him. Wilbur could already picture his little brother's reaction: He could imagine the kid screaming and cursing in shock before that trademark TommyInnit smile broke out across his face. Then, Wilbur and Tommy would be able to bask in their shared relief, and maybe get some food into their stomachs while they caught up. Technically, Wilbur hadn't eaten anything in months, and after his morning trek, he'd kill for a warm meal.

Since coming back to life, Wilbur also hadn't touched anything but wood, dirt, and ash. It'd be good to hold his little brother again.

Finding Tommy was easy. The only sound in the entire house was the distant trickle of running water, and Wilbur wasn't surprised to realize that it was coming from the kitchen. As he crept down the center hallway, Wilbur silently cursed that the kid had jeopardized his fun surprise by bothering to install real floorboards in a dirt house. It was a miracle that none of them creaked under his weight.

Eventually, the newly alive man peaked into the kitchen. Inside, Tommy stood in front of the sink, holding a plate under its running tap. The teen was making no effort to wash the dish or set it on the drying rack, instead staring blankly as an endless stream of tap water ran its way down the porcelain surface. Tommy looked that same as the day Wilbur had left him, albeit it a bit more tired and with a streak of bleached-white hair.

Well, Wilbur supposed that now was as good a time as any.

"Tommy?" he asked, excitement leaping in his heart as the kid suddenly went rigid.

Then, Tommy slowly turned towards the doorway.

The grin on Wilbur's face must have looked wild.

"Hello again," he said, leaning against the door frame, "Did you miss me?"

For a moment, nothing happened. Tommy just stared at Wilbur silently, expression vacant. Then, the boy's eyes glazed over completely as he turned back to the dishes in the sink.