Chapter Text
He is tugged out of his dreams abruptly with the sound of a crow cawing outside. Wilbur does not know what she was dreaming and he does not care to try to remember. It doesn't matter anyway. They're just dreams and you'll forget them eventually.
Wilbur's back hurts, but that's given considering it had slept on the metal floor of a van. Tommy had the mattress, and when Wilbur turned his head, he could see fluffy blonde hair peeking out from where the younger was tucked under a blanket. She can't help but smile, his brother is her everything. It would do anything for her brother to be happy.
It sighs and looks to her left. The paper is still there, the quill—maybe Tommy would have huffed that she could just use a pen, that he's being pretentious—next to it, small beads of now-dried ink stained the corner of the paper.
It's a letter. And at the top of the paper, it says Philza and at the bottom, it says Sincerely, Wilbur Soot. One last letter before he leaves. She lied to Phil plenty in the letters during Pogtopia, it's sure he wouldn't mind just a bit more.
But no matter, as the day doesn't last forever. She sits up, ignoring the pounding headache, ringing ears, and lightheadedness he has. Maybe some other day it would groan and stay still to stop it. Wilbur doesn't mind anymore.
Wilbur looks back at Tommy when she hears him roll over. He sighs fondly, tangling a cold, frail hand in his hair. An awake Tommy would scrunch his face up and complain that he's not a child. An asleep Tommy just twitches his lip and leans into the touch.
It scratches his scalp, being as gentle as one would treat porcelain. Tommy is like porcelain to her. Lovely to have around but fragile. He has to protect him from the world. From everyone and every cruel being in it. The best way to do that is isolation, anyway.
He quickly removes his hands as Tommy starts waking up. Oh, he has not changed since he was young, has he? Having a small angry expression, like he is angry at the world for waking him up, then his baby blue eyes open and he lifts his head.
Wilbur remembers the same thing happening when the brunette first went into high school when clinginess started molding into codependency. They would cuddle at night, and Tommy would show Wilbur his Animal Crossing island and Wilbur would say, that's nice, Toms, and they would pretend everything was okay.
“Why are you up?” Ah, this is Tommy, not little Tommy. Not I'm-too-old-to-wear-shoes-Tommy, or is-Schlatt-your-boyfriend?-Tommy, not even when's-the-last-time-you-washed-that-sweater?-Tommy.
She clears his throat and replies, “Just woke up early.”
Well, that's not a very good response, considering it usually sleeps like the dead (Get it. Because– because she's dead. Look, Wilbur was never known for his comedy skills).
“Are you lying? You know, it is very mean to lie to your siblings, Wil. I am Tommy No Lie McCraft, so you can't lie to me ever. I will report you to Quackity and he—”
“That's nice.” Wilbur hums, standing up. Tommy looks incredibly—though dramatically—betrayed, but stays quiet.
“I love you, you know that? A lot.” Now Tommy's expression is a tiny of confusion, but he just says, “Me too.”
The revived man is incredibly grateful for the breeze flowing from outside when she opens the latch to the metal cover. Using his... Limited strength she opens it up.
When the breeze drifts past, he is stricken at how horribly hot it is. She's sure that Quackity had a lovely little reason to build his wonderful—truly wonderful—little town out here in a f*cking desert, but really? To be honest, Wilbur is sure that the reason is so he has an excuse to have his tit* out all the time. Well, she's definitely not complaining—okay this is off-topic.
It's quite pretty in Las Nevadas, with all the colourful lights and tall buildings, lipstick that leaves a mark, too-sharp teeth, and horribly accurate security teams. Maybe if she goes out and stands near the sign Quackity will be there.
He would say, “Why the f*ck are you here?” and Wilbur would hum and ignore him and sooner or later Wilbur would be asleep in the president's bed.
Or maybe he would prance straight up to the man's office, lean over his desk, and say “Are you busy?” when of course he is and he would walk out with a bloody nose.
Some days she would go right to Quackity's penthouse, sit on the bed, and cry while the shorter coos that it's alright.
“Um– W-Wilbur?” Of course, he isn't with Quackity, his lovely, beautiful, clever Quackity. Instead a too-tall, too-quiet enderman.
It sighs before leaning back from the counter, looking to the enderman in question.
“Sorry.” She isn't sorry. “I cleaned off the counters, so you can get right to work.” He hasn't cleaned the counters in a day or two, but if Ranboo doesn't notice then it's not Wilbur's fault.
A small part of her wishes for the best for Ranboo, that they will be okay and that they move on. Wilbur was never really important to them anyway, only a boss and a few barely-there memories.
“Ran?” He says, quietly, unsure.
Wilbur can see the confused flick of a tail in the corner of his vision, the slight furrowing of eyebrows. It'll be fine.
“Yeah?”
“Um, well—” Now what does he say? I'll never see you again? Don't miss me? Keep Tommy safe? “—Just... Keep working hard, alright?”
“Oh! Uhm, okay? But—” Wilbur doesn't give them any more time to speak, instead opening the door and stepping outside. The heat feels like a just punishment for her sins. So he keeps the trenchcoat on.
The sand scrapes against its boots as it walks, kicking up slightly and dusting golden powder on her clothes. He sighs, the soft noise lost in the increasingly loud sound of upbeat, bass-boosted music pouring from casinos.
The crowd instantly engulfs him when she walks onto a sidewalk, like the pressure of water when you drown, Wilbur doesn't let them pull her under. She stands out from the crowd due to his height, but his stature means he gets shoved around easily by the tourists.
They wouldn't be like this if Quackity was here, there would be the press and Wilbur would have to keep a small distance for them not to be suspicious, but they move for Quackity. And after he shoes away the cameras, Quackity would hold his hand and they would walk together.
But Quackity isn't there and people are far too wary around her, so he takes a shortcut through an alley. Then when he walks out to the other end, the hotel is in front of it. She doesn't care to wipe his shoes on the mat when she enters the building, tracking faint marks of dirt, blood, and sand.
Maybe Quackity would feel guilty when he realizes Wilbur has left and he already got the cleaners to remove the traces of her. Maybe Quackity wouldn't care.
Slime is there, having the same smile he always does. Would Slime miss it? Does he even understand what it feels like to miss someone? She doesn't think he would miss someone like her. Really the only contact they have is consistent reminders of 'You aren't supposed to be here, Wilbur from L'Manburg!'
Though—gratefully—Slime doesn't ask any questions when she steps into the elevator, only giving a peppy wave that Wilbur doesn't reciprocate. The brunette presses the button for the top floor, inputting the code. 6969. Some days Wilbur would laugh at it, but now he just feels numb. This is the last time she's going to see her lovers before it leaves.
The elevator ride goes quickly, and Wilbur wishes he had more time to think of what she'd say. Because now there's the short, empty hallway and the revived man's feet move for themselves as she walks in.
It's a bit louder than normal. There is the sound of something cooking on the stove, then the sound of the fridge opening and closing. Someone is cooking. Likely Quackity; that's his love language anyway. Now Wilbur feels a bit guilty that she rejected his food some of the time. She's never going to have his food again.
It can also hear the slight snapping and clicking sounds, likely Glatt playing with some sort of fidget toy. Maybe some other day she and him would fight fondly over who got to use it. Wilbur isn't in the mood to fight much, not anymore.
Then, farther back in the house, Wilbur can hear a soft baa and the quiet splash of water. Ghostbur might be washing Friend. She hopes they don't get burned by the water, or maybe they're using an awkward potion to combat that. They were always so accommodating.
Another day, a day where she didn't have to think of the last things he'd say to the people she loves, it would put his coat on the hanger and take off her shoes, flop on the couch, and complain about how hot it is outside.
She keeps her coat and shoes on and walks to the bathroom. Glatt and Quackity don't notice, in some kind of debate. Wilbur can't help but smile listening to them.
When the brunette walks into the bathroom, Friend turns to him first, then Ghostbur follows his eyes and sees their partner.
“Hi, puppy.” They say softly, though no less excited. Another day Wilbur would melt at the nickname, now it just makes her feel nauseous.
Wilbur confirms that indeed the 'water' is really an awkward potion, to get Friend clean without burning them. There is water all over Ghostbur's shirt, which looks like the taller's. He smiles softly at the sight.
“Didn't you give Friend a bath a couple of days ago?” Wilbur remembers that when she was only bordering on leaving instead of knowing he was leaving. She would complain and whine to Glatt that Friend was splashing him, and get water all over the floor and refuse to clean it up.
A sigh escapes Ghostbur, a fond frustration. “He got out and rolled around in the sand, silly sheep.” They end their sentence by shaking their head in playful disapproval of the sheep, tutting.
“Hm.” The red-eyed man says simply, before nervously biting their lower lip. There is a soft silence, only with the slight sound of gently moving water and another baa as Friend sniffs Wilbur.
“Baby?”
“Yes?” Prime, they say it so easily. Like it's nothing.
“Just, keep being who you are, okay? Don't let anyone change you.”
Ghostbur furrows their eyebrows, having a soft questioning look.
“Alright?”
“Okay, bye. I love you.”
“Love you too.” They say, looking away from Friend to kiss her on the cheek. So simple, so easy. So normal.
Wilbur quickly walks away when she feels tears well up in his eyes.
It forces herself to stop, walking out to the living room. Quackity and Glatt have ended their conversation. A soft, neutral silence in the air. She sighs before sitting on the couch next to Glatt. He looks up from the fidget cube, leaning on him and adjusting his hands so Wilbur can see what the toy does.
“You know you aren't the same as Schlatt, right?”
“Hell yeah, I'm so much hotter.” Glatt replies, his tone in no way affected. He thinks it's a joke. It would be on a normal day.
“Just know that, alright? You're better than him and whatever he did doesn't mean you are a bad person.”
“... 'kay.” The ghost's voice is a bit more hesitant, more confused, too close to finding out Wilbur is leaving. So she gives him a quick peck on the lips before going to the kitchen, not wanting him to piece it together.
He can hear a soft humming coming from the kitchen, the sound of something being chopped on a cutting board. Wilbur stays quiet, to see what he's doing. The shortest is wearing shorts and a hoodie, his beanie off and hair tied back. No suspenders, no sleek slacks, no jewelry. This isn't President Alexis Quackity. It's just normal Quackity, Q, ducky, angel. Wilbur can't help but be relieved.
When he taps him on the shoulder, Quackity jumps, nicking himself with the knife.
“Holy f*cking sh*t, Wil! Prime, you can't do that, I'm too old for that. I'll have a heart attack or some sh*t.” He huffs fondly as he washes off the cut. Glatt glares at the mention of a heart attack but goes back to the fidget toy.
Wilbur fiddles with her fingers, picking at his nails. They're painted in all sorts of colors. He and Tommy did it a few days prior, so now the paint is chipped at the ends.
“Um– you've gone through a lot—” Oh f*ck, this isn't good. Quackity turns away from the food, looking at him with concern. “—and you've always gotten better, right? So know that it'll work out, okay?”
“Wil?”
The brunette can't stand here for a second longer or he might sob. So he gives Quackity an unbearably quick kiss on the forehead and leaves as fast as possible.
He takes her time in the elevator to calm down, steadying its shuddering breaths to something more normal. She's normal. It's normal to leave for Utah and block everyone you've ever loved. It's fine. It's normal.
And Slime gives him a normal smile and a normal wave when she leaves, Wilbur walking out of the normal building and out of the oh-so-normal Las Nevadas.
She sits down at the large, lovely, bright, normal sign right outside Las Nevadas and choked in tears. It doesn't think of Tommy, Ranboo, Glatt, Ghostbur, Friend, or Quackity. She doesn't decide to avoid going to Utah, either.
