#ough the song in the dancing snippet is Hey Jude by The Beatles

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

He wonders if, had he had a taste of friendship with all those things before returning to his reality, if he would feel quieter, and lonelier, and more sad, now that he wasn’t friends with them.

The answer is probably yes.

Wilbur tries not to think about this very often; it just makes him hungry for all the things he’ll never have. An insatiable hunger.

Wilbur wonders if Phil ever feels like this.

~~~

Finally, Wilbur settles on something, because he taps the screen once before lowering his hands, keeping hold of the phone and letting a song play from it.

Guitar. That’s what starts this song off.

Tommy tilts his head. He’s never heard this before. It’s a new song to him.

But it’s… pretty. As far as the first bit goes, at least; all gentle guitar and soft singing, all that. It sounds like something Ghostbur would like.

And then the chorus comes around, and Tommy’s eyes widen a little bit as the lyrics hit his ears.

“Jesus, my heart, your home. Jesus.”

Tommy flicks his gaze to Wilbur, inquisitive.

Wilbur gazes back, even and calm.

The song continues playing, and after a few seconds, Tommy turns his attention back to it. He’s paying more attention to the lyrics now.

“I will sing for you, all my days. Always quick to give you praise. When I was in sin, you saved my soul. No greater love will I ever know.”

“Do you go to church?” Tommy asks, because he couldn’t keep the question inside his chest any longer.

“No,” Wilbur answers, quick but sure. “Not really, no. I don’t even believe in most of the things this song talks about.”

“Oh. Then…” Tommy furrows his brow. “Then why do you listen to it?”

The song turns loud, strong guitar strums and almost yell-y singing, and Wilbur turns thoughtful, tilting his head ever so slightly as he looks off into the distance.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything.

The song keeps playing.

~~~

“You tried to revive Wilbur,” Ghostbur said, hoping that the king would understand what so few seemed to. “You tried to kill me."

~~~

Wilbur hums, and with a quick prayer to whoever is listening, Niki starts to drive.

~~~

Ranboo’s heart drops. Oh no.

“Hey, hey, um… W-Wilbur? What… what uh, what’s wrong?” Ranboo hurriedly kneels down, as close to Wilbur as he dares.

~~~

(Another one for heart because I wanted to share :)

No. Everything is warm and hazy, drifting in and out of focus with each beat of his heart—a heart which, as far as Wilbur can tell, is slow, lazy, irregular. Irregular. A wobbling spotlight that shines in the wrong places, doesn’t follow the cues.

~~~

“Hello!”

Wilbur blinks, peering up from his phone to see Ghostbur walking into the kitchen, blinking the sleepiness from his eyes. “Hey. I got, um…” He gestures vaguely to the island. “McDonald’s.”

“McDonald’s,” Ghostbur repeats, sounding inquisitive and amazed at the same time.

Wilbur blinks.

Ghostbur comes to a stop in front of the island, looking around at the paper bags filled with breakfast food. He blinks hard, as if trying to will away any leftover wisps of unconsciousness. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had McDonald’s.”

~~~

“You can sleep after this,” Tommy assures, hovering in case the cup spills from Ghostbur’s hands. “Just- make sure you drink enough, y’know. I don’t want you getting diehydrated or anything.”

Ghostbur doesn’t smile at Tommy’s joke, and Tommy suddenly feels lonely. Which is weird, because Ghostbur is right here. He’s not lonely.

His heart just gave a proper pang though, didn’t it?

“You’re not ever yourself after doctor visits,” Tommy says softly, watching as Ghostbur sips at the straw with nearly-closed eyes.

~~~

(Couldn’t find one for gentleness so I went with gentle instead!)

He hopes that his voice sounds gentle. He wonders if it’s possible to bend his voice in such a way that sounds gentle.

~~~

When they get inside, the song isn’t finished, so they stay in the living room and Ghostbur sways the both of them back and forth, back and forth, all the way until they finish na-na-na-na-ing. It doesn’t matter that they can’t see very well, with all the lights off; they know they’re both here. They can hear each other. Tommy can feel the soft wool of Ghostbur’s sweater sleeves.

They finish the last lyric, and for a few seconds, the whole house is quiet.

Ghostbur leans forward, pressing a kiss onto Tommy’s head. Tommy blinks as he pulls back.

Ghostbur smiles. “I think of you whenever I hear that song."

Tommy doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything.

As they both lay in bed, facing each other, Tommy moves a little closer than usual. Ghostbur keeps his eyes closed, but he rubs his thumb along Tommy’s arm until they both fall asleep, and that makes Tommy feel better.

When Tommy wakes up, the first thing he does is check to make sure Ghostbur’s still here. He is.

Ghostbur’s thumb is still resting against Tommy’s arm.

Tommy moves a little bit closer, and he falls back asleep.

~~~

“You could’ve been trying to pull a prank on me, or a joke.”

Wilbur’s heart twinges, just a bit. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Ghostbur says nothing.

“I’ll help you, alright?” Wilbur takes a step closer, water sloshing up his legs. “I’ll make sure nothing… bad happens, or anything.”

Ghostbur finally looks up, meeting Wilbur’s eyes. He looks skeptical.

Wilbur raises his brows. “Promise. Y’know, we’ll be like… we’ll be like brothers, right? This is the sort of thing brothers do!”

Ghostbur tilts his head thoughtfully. “Perhaps.”

“Look, I don’t wanna stay out here all day, man. Just try it. Look, you suck in a breath and hold it, so your body stays buoyant. See?” Wilbur breathes in to demonstrate, but Ghostbur wrinkles his nose.

“I know how to hold my breath.”

“Then do it, man! Come on!” Wilbur gestures at the water, grinning. “I’ll make sure you don’t sink. I’ll grab you if things go south, alright?”

Ghostbur looks at the water again, nodding after a few moments. “Okay.”

“It’s just fl-“ Wilbur cuts himself off, eyes widening with surprise as Ghostbur lowers himself down and takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes.

And Ghostbur freaking floats. He lays there in the water with his eyes shut and his freaking shirt on and he floats. He barely even moves, actually; just floats there, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

For a minute, he stays like that, and for a minute, Wilbur stares, not quite sure how to react to this.

I didn’t know he was going to do it that quickly.

After a minute, Ghostbur blinks his eyes open, quickly widening them as he tries to right himself.

“You’re fine,” Wilbur assures, stepping forward and letting Ghostbur cling to his arm and get pulled up. “See? Right here, just like I said.”

Ghostbur says absolutely nothing, squeezing Wilbur’s arm with both hands and breathing hard. His hair sticks to his forehead in a dark mess.

Wilbur realizes that his own hair probably looks the same.

“You did it, man.” Wilbur laughs, because there’s really nothing else to do. “You floated! Y’know? And I didn’t even have to do anything! Man, are you sure you don’t know how to swim? I’m being serious. Because that was fantastic, right there.”

Ghostbur stares at his hands, wrapped around Wilbur’s arm, and then he slowly brings his gaze upward, until they meet his brother’s. His eyes are wide. “That water is cold!”

Wilbur laughs again, louder. His feet nearly trip over themselves, but he manages to stay upright and not fall into the river. “Yeah, I suppose it is.”

“And… I floated.”

Wilbur smiles. “I suppose you did.”

“Oh.” Ghostbur glances at the water again, eyes dancing. He looks back to his hands, holding onto Wilbur, and blinks. He pulls his hands away. “I think I hurt you.”

Wilbur looks down, noticing how his skin is white where Ghostbur had held onto it. “Nah, I’m fine.”

“That might bruise.”

“It won’t.”

“I was just a little nervous.”

“I know. But you floated anyway.” Wilbur raises his brows. “Yeah?”

Ghostbur looses a breath through his mouth, nodding. “Yeah. I did, I did.”

Then he brightens. “Oh. I really did, didn’t I?”

“Heck yeah, man.”

“Oh.” Ghostbur slowly runs his fingers through the river, creating small waves. He smiles—a flickering sort of thing. “I did. I did.”

Wilbur grins. His arm probably will bruise—Ghostbur has a hard grip, man—but he can’t bring himself to care. He doesn’t care.

There’s birds chirping everywhere.

~~~

He glances at the window, watching orange light bleed through the closed blinds. Is it too early? He planned to do it tonight, after the sun set and the world grew cold.

But there’s nothing else to do.

Wilbur huffs a laugh that sounds more like a sickness. Might as well. The timing won’t change anything; it’s inevitable either way.

He grunts as he rises to his feet, wandering towards his dresser. The slivers of sunlight that worm their way between the blinds cast lines on the wall. Wilbur blocks them with his shadow.

~~~

“But,” Tommy continues, dipping a fry into some ketchup. “This makes it better.”

“What does?”

“Food. Five Guys. Even you.” He holds up the ketchup-dipped fry, waving it about with a glint in his eye. “I love salt!”

Wilbur huffs a smile, gazing at the table.

~~~

(Another one for love just because)

Ghostbur smiles, huffing quietly to himself. Tommy is very funny. He does such strange things. Ghostbur loves him more than he loves anything else.

~~~

(Annnnd another one)

Niki shakes her head. “My bakery is gone.”

“Wh… gone?”

“I burned it.”

He stops walking, and some of the leaves go quiet.

Niki walks ahead of him. After a second or two, she hears leaves again.

“Oh. Okay!” He comes up alongside her, and he’s taller than her, because he’s always been taller than her. “That seems like a strange thing to do to something you love. Why did you burn it?”