Threads of silence

Just frame the halves and call them brothers

Wilbur sighed as he flicked his lighter on and off, mesmerised by the dancing flame. Schlatt had finally passed out, after drinking way too much, and Mexican dream was off doing God knows what. It was blissfully quiet, for the first time in a while. He was just about to flick the lighter on again when he heard Mexican Dream. He sighed, preparing himself for the usual chatter of him. He frowned when he listened closer. Was Mexican Dream... Talking to someone? 

"Ey man, You're gonna love it here! We can drink alcohol and smoke weed! It's gonna be awesome!" Mexican Dreams raspy voice said, getting louder as he neared Wilbur. He stopped, spotting him and cheered. "Eyy man! Look who joined us! We're gonna smoke shit!" He continued. 

Wilbur walked closer, and stopped in shock. Next to Mexican Dream was... Tommy? He was standing slightly hunched over, hair long and obscuring his face. He looked up and let out a tiny smile. "Wilbur? Is that you?" he asked. Wilbur let out a sigh, crossing over to him. "Yeah, it's me. Hey Toms. Welcome to limbo." He said softly.

Wilbur sighed as he brushed the hair out of Tommy's face. He didn't understand. Tommy wasn't dead, at least, not according to Ghostbur. According to that pathetic crybaby, Tommy was still very much alive. Which begged the question, how was he in limbo? Tommy had been in limbo for almost 4 years now, but according to Ghostbur, it was probably only 2 months on the SMP.

He sighed. Tommy was supposed to be living happy and free, enjoying time with his friends, not be in limbo. He wasn't sure what was happening, but he knew Dream had something to do with it.

Wilbur shifted as he noticed Tommy stirring. "Hey bud. Feeling slightly better now? You were asleep for quite a while. Schlatt started to get worried." He murmured, and smiled as he saw Schlatt sputter and deny it. He heard Schlatt mutter some profanities, then go back to his game with Mexican Dream. 

He heard a soft sound and looked down to see Tommy fully sitting up. He was motioning to his wrist, and Wilbur smiled. "It's been about 2-3 hours. Nothing has changed." He said, tilting his head. He was getting better at knowing what Tommy meant, and was starting to get used to him not talking.

About two years ago, limbo time, Tommy stopped talking. He was already pretty quiet down in this place, but then he just stopped talking altogether. Wilbur had been working on learning sign language so that he could teach Tommy, but it was slow going. 

"Eyy man! You're awake!" M.D's raspy voice called out, startling Tommy. He turned around, giving him a small wave. Before he had fallen asleep, he had been playing Uno with the three of them, but Wilbur had let him win. Lately, he was doing anything he could to get any sort of emotion or reaction out of Tommy. He constantly did everything he could just to see him smile. It hurt having his little brother so broken.

Tommy let out a sigh again, and Wilbur turned to look at him. He was signing slowly, and Wilbur paused to process what he was saying. Do you think you could do my hair again? was what it roughly translated to. He had actually said something like 'you hair for me again?' but Wilbur got what he meant. He smiled softly, beckoning him towards him. "Of course Toms, whatever you want." He coaxed, and Tommy smiled. He sat down, and then pointed to the guitar resting beside him. "Want me to play something?" He queried, smiling again. At Tommy's nod, he picked up the guitar and started strumming. Tommy had been asking him to play the same song over and over lately. He seemed to find comfort in the song, maybe connecting to the lyrics.

He strummed the guitar, making sure it was tuned properly, then started to sing.

"The evil it spread like a fever ahead, It was night when you died, my firefly. What could I have said to raise you from the dead? Oh could I be the sky on the Fourth of July?" He sang softly, and Tommy started to relax, slumping against him. This song seemed to be a comfort for him, as he always asked Wilbur to play it when he was stressed or anxious.  

"Did you get enough love, my little dove, Why do you cry? And I'm sorry I left, but it was for the best, though it never felt right. My little Versailles"  he sang,  voice almost cracking as he sang the part about leaving. He hadn't meant to hurt Tommy so much when he left. He had assumed that by leaving, Tommy would be free, able to enjoy himself without worry. But it also meant he didn't have someone to protect him. He didn't have an older brother who would give him the world. Wilbur felt the guilt of leaving him almost every day since Tommy came down, but hid it, not  wanting to upset him. 

"Shall we look at the moon, my little loon, why do you cry? Make the most of your life, while it is rife, while it is light" he continued, reaching his favourite part. He smiled when he noticed Tommy humming the tune softly, and tapping his fingers to the rhythm. As he continued to sing, even Schlatt and Mexican Dream stopped to listen in. Whenever he sang, everything else seemed to go silent, all of them mesmerised by the soft song. It wasn't often Wilbur played chill songs, usually resorting to slightly more loud, or upbeat songs, at least since he died. However, he would always play any song that Tommy wanted.

"Well you do enough talk, My little hawk, why do you cry? Tell me what did you learn from the Tillamook burn? Or the Fourth of July? We're all gonna die" He sang, reaching the end of the song. He smiled when he noticed Tommy was basically boneless against him. He nudged him and Tommy sat up. He began combing his fingers through his hair, gently untangling it and started to part it. He smiled at his contented noise, and began braiding it. He finished up, tying it with a strip of cloth, and Tommy signed a thank you. He smiled softly at him. "Of course Toms. My pleasure." He murmured.  He strummed the guitar for a bit longer, playing some soft songs, untill Tommy fell asleep. He wished this had never happened. He loved seeing Tommy all the time, but not why he saw him.