𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐸𝒹𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 : 𝒫𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑜𝓈' 𝐼𝓃 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒

Green Grass

Wilbur

    My legs seemed to lead me more than my mind had tonight. It was foolish of me to actually try and help him. I kept reminding myself,

    He's healing from the past, he'll get better.

    If healing is finding your friend's body on the floor of his bedroom with near-empty bottles of pills and glasses of empty alcohol then I would be the first to congratulate him.

    I huffed as I walked out into the corridor, wanting nothing more than to just be alone, even if just for three minutes. But I knew that wasn't going to happen, not in this place.

I found myself standing in the garden where I'd spent my days playing and growing up. Though I wasn't one for playing much, I was more of one for reading if I'd gotten the time and Tommy wasn't bothering me.

My fingers brushed against the delicate petals of a white rose, the heart of the flower turning a darker red than anything else.

               My pointer and middle finger gently rested under the outer petals of the flower just above the thorny stemmed vine and plucked the delicacy of the rose. My eyes glazed over the colors, thinking back to my home.

My home, L'manburg. It was once a vibrant place, full of joy and laughter, and order. The sky was always filled with stars, never once was it not sunny. I still remember it like it was yesterday, Fundy tugging on my sleeve to drag me out into the little joyous town to see the local market that came around only once every few months if it was the right season.

    I grabbed onto the flower and watched it crumple onto the grass in front of me. I walked further into the corridor garden and sat on a cobblestone bench. My eyes' gaze focused on the stars in the sky. Gentle clouds cascaded over them as the light glow of the stars shone through and down to the pond sitting in the middle of the garden. I started thinking back to things I'd thought of and seen as homes.

    He was home to me. He was what I needed to keep stable. He was my star. He meant the world to me. He was my world. He-

    "Dad . . .?"

    My head shot up from who's voice had called to me.

    "Fundy?"

    The boy cautiously made his way over to me, his tail gently swaying behind him as it folded neatly between his thighs. He took a seat next to me, his hands cupped in his lap.

    "Father, why did no one teach you that you cannot turn people into homes? People are rivers, ever-changing, ever-flowing. They will disappear with everything you put inside them. Still, your home does have a heartbeat. But it isn't one locked in anyone else's chest. Just look inside your own."

    His words had taken me back, back to a time when I'd repeated the same thing to Tubbo when he was just the ripe age of ten.

    My eyes fixated on Fundy while he spoke. Yet to this day, I will never forgive myself for what I'd let happen to him. He was my boy. He was my joy. He made everything worth living and yet, I'd still let him slip through my fingers again.

    "Fundy, is there something you need to say to me? Are you talking about anyone in your own life?"

    I asked with a small tilt of my head.

    The boy only nodded, leaning forward, his gaze never leaving the ground under him.

    "I speak of you, father."

    His words cut into me, deeper than any blade or bullet ever had. I sat for a moment, taking in a slow yet long breath to try and wrap my head around what he'd confessed.

    "I . . . I see."

    "Father, you were my home. You meant everything to me until the day you left me to die."

    "Fundy I never-"

    "No, you did. And I will never forgive you. You never thought to come to find me, hell you didn't even write to me. And I bet you still wouldn't change a thing even if I was on your front doorstep, begging before you on my hands and knees to just have my dad back. You never tried. And even if you did you didn't succeed. You never will. You will always be a self-centered narcissistic asshole. You will never care for me or anyone else, no matter what you do, I will always find spite for you. No matter how much you apologize or try to get me back, you never will."

    I watched as my son got up and left, leaving me to sit as his words rang throughout my mind. I would never have a response to his words. I would never forgive myself for letting him go.

XXX

    I sat outside of the infirmary room, sitting beside Schlatt's door. I had always tried to remind myself of one saying Philza had always told me and Techno,

    'What if the grass is greener on the other side because it's always raining there. Where the ones who never fail to give, hardly have enough to spare. Where the people with the broadest smiles, have pillows filled with tears. And the bravest ones you've ever known, are crippled by their fears. It's filled with lonely people, but they're never seen lonely.'

    My arms and legs pushed me from the ground as my hand aimlessly reached for the doorknob, slowly pushing open the door as I continued the saying under my breath.

    "Where those that lack real shelter . . . make you feel the most at home. Maybe their grass looks greener . . . because they've painted on its hue . . . just remember from the other side . . ."

    I looked up, our eyes locking.

    "Your grass looks greener too."