Tommy didn't understand what was happening here. He really didn't.
One moment he was going to drop off Ghostbur's lead for Friend, something he had left when visiting Tommy.
Next moment he was face to face with Wilbur, who was in the middle of wiping off grey and blue makeup off his face.
So many thoughts passed through his head, too many to the point where it overwhelmed him and made his head ache.
Closing his eyes he tried to believe that once he opened them this wouldn't be happening. Whatever was happening would just be a sick dream, more of a nightmare than anything else.
But no, that wasn't the case. When he opened his eyes again he was still there, wiping off his makeup and staring at Tommy.
"Wilbur?" Tommy questioned softly. Wilbur smiled and it sent a shiver down Tommy's spine. Why was this happening?
The past moments flashed before Tommy's eyes, he saw Phil kill Wilbur, he watched as Lmanberg went up in a hazard of tnt and fire. He saw his brother die by the sword of his own father. He watched as the blood poured but he was too far away to fix it.
He had to deal with the thought that he didn;t save his brother and he lost the one person who believed in him the most.
But there he saw, not a ghost like everyone thought, but what seemed to be completely human.
"Hello Tommy." Wilbur smiled, continuing to wipe away the grey and blue, leaving the white rag stained, well it was already stained but it didn't help it. Tommy looked at the rag, it looked like it had been washing away makeup for a while.
"Wilbur." Tommy repeated, this time not really a question but a statement. A statement that was masking many questions and many hurt feelings.
No matter what Wilbur did to try and explain this, this was unforgivable. This was out of line and it caused so much pain.
What was Tommy supposed to say? Supposed to ask?
'Hey brother of mine, why the fuck are you wiping away makeup and you just look human instead of like a ghost like everyone thought'
No he had to find a better way to ask it. He didn't want Wilbur to freak out and blow up a country again.
"Tommy." Wilbur repeated, using the same tone that Tommy had moments before. Tommy felt frozen in the doorway. "What do you need?" He asked, like he hadn't just unraveled the ball of yarn that was Tommy's brain.
"I, Wilbur, what?" Tommy stammered, trying to process what was still happening. Wilbur rolled his eyes at his younger brother and turned to look in a mirror, to make sure that he got all of the makeup off. "What the fuck is this?" He finally managed out.
"What do you mean?" Wilbur asked, keeping his tone cool and collective. Tommy wanted to punch him in the face for even pretending like everything is okay. He needed answers first, answers then punching his brother in the face.
"You aren't dead!" Tommy shouted and Wilbur didn't even flinch at the loud tone, just rolled his eyes again like it was some boring news that he had heard many times over.
"Obviously." Wilbur laughed, ignoring Tommy's anger.
"But you aren't a ghost!" Tommy again shouted. Wilbur finally put down the rag, turning to look back at Tommy. Tommy looked in his brothers eyes. While his face was wiped of all makeup his eyes were still the grey color. That was until Wilbur pulled out the contacts that were on his eyes.
Looking at Wilbur's face again without all of the extra stuff on it made Tommy sick. Literally. He threw up in the nearest trash can, hurling all of his guts out into it.
