Get A Load Of This Monster

Chapter 2

Wilbur had been feeling overwhelmed for days. Coming back to life was amazing, but painful. His eyes throbbed, his ears hurt so much that his jaw ached. His stomach and gut both felt strange, which he wrote off as just being hungry for the first time in a decade. His memories of before the train station were faded, sure, but he was re-learning how to live.

He wasn't really expecting that more memories would be jostled by opening the chest in that little shrine he'd respawned in.

Quackity's handwriting was still familiar, even after all these years. Wilbur had spent hours staring down handwritten posters during the election, he'd practically memorized the way the short man wrote. He'd copied it countless times, etching it onto the walls of the station in a desperate attempt to remember how to read and write.

He was still incredibly rusty, and his handwriting was probably significantly worse than before, but he could piece together what the note said.

'Dear Wilbur,

I don't know why I'm writing this honestly. You're dead, you have been for months. It's not even like we were close, not really. But you trusted me, so I guess I should trust you. Trust my secret to someone who's never going to see it.

I started a new country. It's for Karl and Sapnap, but... I haven't seen them in a while. They haven't talked to me in ages. So what I'm saying is...

You can come, if you want. I'd love to see you again. I'm sorry I couldn't save you before. <S>I'm sorry I'm not worth sticking around for.</s> I'm sorry you felt like you did. I'm trying to get into better self talk or whatever the fuck.

I miss you, kinda

-Q

Ps. You're still a massive dick and I hate you. Asshole. I hope you're okay, wherever you are.'

The note was... It felt too sweet, coming from big Q. He was rough, he was crass. He was everything Wilbur had needed in Pogtopia. Everything that would have made them awful parents-

Wilbur stopped his stream of thought there. He'd nearly forgotten. Logically, he knew why. He'd only known for a few hours before his death, and he'd forgotten things he'd known for much longer. There was one thing he'd never let himself think about, and it was what happened to the little bundle of cells when he died. He'd almost forced himself to forget. And he nearly had.

He cursed under his breath. He was so close to just forgetting! Now it was flying around in his thoughts, questions rising that he didn't want to answer.

To distract himself, he tried thinking about Quackity. It had the opposite effect, and instead of a lovely memory of the man half naked, a picture started forming of what could have been.

Wilbur put the breaks on hard, pulling at his hair harshly. He didn't want this! Not anymore! A quiet life would never be for him. He'd realized that after Fundy was born, after Sally left him with a baby when he was suffering. He'd clawed his way out then, fought to have L'manburgh and give his son a home. He'd realized that he was meant to make history, and he thought he could do that and be a father. But he'd failed.

He didn't want to try again.

He took a shaky breath, relaxing the vice-like grip he had on his curls. "I don't have to worry." He told himself quietly. "There's no way. I died, and so did the baby."

That was the end of that.

He picked the letter back up off the floor. He wondered how Quackity was. And he needed a home, since L'manburgh was gone.

He tracked Tommy down later that day, convincing him to lead him to 'Las Nevadas'. The blond chattered away for the entire walk, which Wilbur was incredibly grateful for. He hated wordless silence, and it was something he never had to worry about with Tommy.