#gave you a bunch of snippets aksgaksgkagsjag

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

Wilbur opens his eyes. He knows that knock; quiet, light, taps more than anything. It’s Phil. Tommy always pounds his bloody fist against the wood, and Technoblade uses the doorbell. Phil knocks softly, like he’s afraid the door will collapse if he uses an ounce more of force. It’s Phil at the door.

~~~

Wilbur breathes a whistlely sigh. The dirt floor falls away, and the dancing light of the torch leaves his eyelids, and his feet are touching nothing but air. For the first time, he begins to reckon with the idea—the knowledge, the fact—that his eyes may never open again. He feels weightless. He doesn’t feel free, because he’s not dead, and that makes him desperately sad.

~~~

Wilbur laughs again. “You’re funny sometimes, y’know.”

Ghostbur’s face lights up. “Really?”

~~~

Techno swallows. His eyes trail over Ghostbur, catching on every single pulsing wound that won’t heal. He doesn’t say anything.

~~~

Every couple steps, one of them stumbles, but the other holds on and makes sure they don’t fall, so none of them fall. It’s really hard to think; with every step on the broken ground, thoughts of Dream fall away, until all that’s left is Tommy, and Ghostbur, and walking, and trying not to fall, and breathing.

“We’re almost there,” Tommy whispers, not looking up. “Please, please, we’re almost there.”

~~~

“I really like yogurt,” Ghostbur whispers. His eyes brighten even more, and he turns back to Wilbur with an expression so utterly touched that it makes Wilbur’s brow furrow. “Thank you for getting me this.”

“No problem,” Wilbur answers uncertainly. He clears his throat. “Next time, um, next time we go to a store we’ll have to get some yogurt. For uh, for you.”

Ghostbur gasps a second time. “Really?”

“Yeah?” Wilbur narrows his eyes. “Why not? It’s what you like, right?”

Ghostbur nods, staring down at his little yogurt container with eyes so wide it’s almost comical.

~~~

Snow crumbles as Techno rises to a stand. He becomes a silhouette against the snow-bright sky. “This… this isn’t going to affect our friendship, is it? You’re not gonna hold a grudge because of this?”

~~~

“Why are you in here? With me? You don’t have to be. You can go, if you want.” Wilbur nods his head towards her. “I know that chair must suck.”

“I don’t mind it.” Niki’s voice sounds genuine, but her continued restless shifting gives her away. “And I’m in here because I want to be.”

“Why?”

Her voice gets softer. “So you won’t be lonely.”

Wilbur’s jaw tightens. He looks away. “I don’t care.”

“Yes you do. You’re scared to be alone.”

~~~

“I don’t want an apple.” Tommy sighs again. “I want you to stop being weird.”

“Weird people make the world go round.”

Tommy wrinkles his nose. “No they don’t. Rich billionaires do.”

Ghostbur stares at him. “Try the apple.”

“I’m gonna be one someday, y’know.”

“An apple?”

“No. A billionaire. Then I’ll make the world go round, and I’ll flaunt my money like nobody’s business. All the girls will love me.”

Ghostbur offers his hand forward. “Try the apple.”

~~~

“With pickles?”

“Yes.”

“And mustard?”

“Yes, my love.”

Sally’s eyes widen. “And extra cheese?”

Wilbur smiles, just a touch exasperated, but mainly endeared. “Of course. I know how you like your burgers. What sort of married man would I be if I didn’t?”

~~~

Wilbur curls up, pressing that arm close to his chest. “Tommy? I don’t wanna forget how to love you. I don’t wanna love you not-right. That’d make me feel awful.” Quieter, he adds, “Mum feels awful when she realizes she forgot. That’s why she’s crying now, I think. She didn’t mean to not love me right. She didn’t mean to.”

~~~

“Every Jedi except me.” Ranboo closes his eyes, silently praying that no one other than Tommy is listening to this conversation. He should have faith, he knows, but he doesn’t think he has any. And that feels wrong.