I Can't Remember

[15] The Beginning Of The End

Wilbur stumbled out of the modest house on the outskirts of Snowchester. Despite Dream's presence, Tommy had agreed to stay with the Beeduo family and help solve the mystery. Tubbo would drop him off back home by midnight. Tommy might be older now, but there was no way he was going to wander the desolate streets of the SMP alone.

His heart ached with the guilt of secrets that he had revealed, but it could not ever compete with the guilt of the secrets yet to be told.

The man took out his keys and put them in the keyhole. His hands trembled as he struggled to turn the key. Looking around, he saw eyes glowing in the abyss. Rushing himself, he somehow managed to open the door and staggered inside.

Once in relative safety, Wilbur let out a shaky sigh. He slid down the door as the memories took over.

***

Wilbur stumbled into his home, exhausted by the day's events. What the hell had happened to Sapnap? And... how did Dream do th- no. he was not going to stress out anymore. He was home now. He would relax, and he would focus on thinking about how he can get Tommy back. And maybe what he should do about Fundy. He was starting to think maybe he had wronged Fundy too. Although how, he couldn't tell.

The man heaved himself into the comfortable sofa in his living room, a gift from Philza. He needs to mend that relationship too. Actually, is there any relation he doesn't have to mend?

Wilbur's eyes bore into the ceiling, wondering if he was too tired to make dinner. Deciding that he was, he pulled his trenchcoat closer to him and tried to sleep.

Just as his eyes landed on the table.

A single, sleek book lay there. Black. Gold accents.

He knew this book.

He saw it in limbo, just as he was pulled back into the world of the living.

And he saw it in Dream's hand.

Just before-

Oh god.

All fatigue vaporised from him, every muscle tense as he watched the book in anticipation, as if he expected it to burst into flames or attack him. When neither happened, he picked it up, just to rush out of his house. He ran all the way to his nether portal, hidden about 50 blocks away from his house. He stood in the portal, holding in his nausea.

As soon as he felt the heatwaves characteristic of the nether, he threw the book as far into the nether as he could. It landed in an ocean of lava. Wilbur watched a flicker of flame rise above the pool, then die out. He sighed in relief. He re-entered the portal, wanting to rid himself of the itch that came with the heat.

Feeling calmer and more exhausted than ever, he went back to his house.

Just to see the book there. On the table. Again.

Ice-cold terror washed over him.

"So fire doesn't hurt you, huh?" Wilbur picked the book again, looking at it with barely disguised disgust. But there was another emotion, under the disgust and the fear. Curiosity.

It was this curiosity, after all, that had started wars and won elections.

(Almost. Not his fault that the opposition had a coalition. It was obvious that overwhelming support was held for POG2020.)