𝕻𝖔𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖘𝖘 - (Wilbur)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟔

A week or so later, Wilbur sat in the forest, his rock, and played slow songs for the natural wildlife. Tubbo couldn't stand hearing Wilbur for another second and sent him off to play where no one would hear him. And Wilbur felt that though the place was bittersweet, he could at least scream out his feelings into the surrounding area, no longer considering servants passing by and Tubbo ready to scream at him. So he felt more liberous in the woods. Though every movement within the wilting bushes would make Wilbur snap his head there, foolishly as if Inka would climb over, wave and sit down, ready to hear Wilbur talk or to write a song with him.

Inka once told Wilbur that his songs were so beautiful that the trees bent to listen, and the river nearby stopped flowing so that it could listen. Wilbur was flattered with the compliment, taking it as an incentive to play with more confidence in the area. And it may have been right, as all Wilbur could see were the leaves and flowers drooping at his songs and the grass to wilt by his desperate call for Inka. In all honesty, he was too scared to go to where she slept. Because she was sleeping there forever. He felt he would break down in tears again - that fear was far too much. If only the world had truly spun around Wilbur. The same way it worked under Technoblade. That man had everything he could have ever wanted, and every scare was compensated for with an even better outcome. Venus was said to die, but the world apologised and offered Techno her very much alive state as a lifelong partner. Why couldn't the world do the same for Wilbur.

Of course, that wishful thinking was the exact hubris that led to Wilbur's tragedy. But the difference was: Wilbur as of currently lived in a world where he felt and though the world was to his favour. How at first he thought he was privileged to everyone around him, he hadn't lost anyone to any personification of death and people loved him for his music and looks. He wasn't burdened with status to hold him back since the town didn't treat him as a prince.

But Wilbur's desires were that the world would truly spin under his rough palm. Because all of his good qualities he felt put him on more of a pedestal to others only crashed down. And the fall from a pedestal to the ground would always hurt more than falling from the ground in the first place. Everyone knew that.

He sat at his rock and strummed in lonesome solitude. Wishing away that maybe in another universe, he figured himself out. Maybe out there in the realms of what was considered alternate realities, Wilbur would have Inka, he would have the world ready to spin at his bidding. But in the one he sat in. No, he didn't.

"Wilbur?" A light voice called from behind the bush. Wilbur's eyes pricked with tears before he could begin to look over. And just like when they first met, Wilbur tensed his fingers around the neck of the guitar and froze. Her voice was perfect. As it always had been.

Perhaps Prima did revive her, he had played a mean trick of pretending not to, and she was simply readjusting to the rest of the world before meeting Wilbur. Reasonably, they left off on a terrible foot. From his nervous peripheral, Wilbur saw the shimmering red of her hair, and never once had his heart beat so loudly. It beat at the cage of his ribs and scratched at his lungs, begging him to look, while also insisting he continued to look the other way. But everything he wanted to say came to him before he could turn to look at her. Well, firstly, he didn't want to cry, though tears of joy, he didn't want to. Then again, she would have been flattered with the gesture. So he let them spill as all he could think about was the voice, undeniable and very much present behind the same bush she always went through.

Yet to plan took away from the romance didn't it? He couldn't even think straight with the thumping in his ears and his brain doing flips at seeing her. He could greet her, ask her about everyone else, and after a brief hug, an apology and maybe a kiss to the forehead, he would show her to those who missed her the most, the rest of the castle. That was all he could muster up the self-control to plan, as slowly, he turned to look at the bush.