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Wilbur didn't know where he was going. It was like his feet were on autopilot, his mind lost in the clouds.
That was, until he smelt the familiar stink of a burning cigarette.
It was something he had grown accustomed to given he was the one inhaling its smoke during Pogtopia and more frequently, after his revival.
Dark clouds of smoke hung in the air as Wilbur saw where he was.
He was standing on the prime path outside of Tommy's dirt shack.
Flowers littered most of the ground, save the few patches of bare dirt. Wilbur remembered Phil telling him how people built memorials and statues of Tommy when he died. He took them all down when he was revived.
But the flowers, nor the dirt patches were important as Wilbur's eyes scanned for the resident of the shack.
He spotted the blonde standing by a campfire, his hand by his mouth holding a cigarette.
Tommy took one look at Wilbur's face and let out a sigh.
"Here to yell at me?" He asked before taking a drag of the stick in his hand.
"...no. I honestly have no idea why I'm here."
"Huh. Figures."
There was an awkward pause as Wilbur watched the flames of the fire lap at a few papers that had been thrown in before he showed up.
"How long?"
"Huh?"
"Don't 'huh' me Tommy. How long have you been smoking?"
"Oh. Well you see that would be- none of you fucking business."
"Of course it my fucking business Tommy." He seethed. "You're my br-"
Right. We're not family anymore. I made it clear a long time ago.
"You're my friend Tommy." He cleared his throat. "And I care about you too much to watch you do this to yourself." He said, reaching forward and dropping the basically used up cigarette bud in the grass and stomping on it.
"What the hell dude?!" He yelled, looking through his pockets.
"You don't get to do that to yourself. I can't watch you self-destruct." Wilbur said.
"Oh that real ironic coming from you Will." Tommy said and lifted another cigarette to his lips.
"What do you mean? Pogtopia?"
"Of fucking course Pogtopia. What is so different from this and inhaling your second hand smoke in that ravine Will? What's the difference?"
"The difference is I'm an adult. You're just a kid Tommy. I don't even know where you got these. You look like a fucking 15 year old." Wilbur joked in a hope to lighten the conversation.
"Don't fucking call me a kid." Tommy said.
"I was a kid when we fought for our independence. I was a kid when I watched you die. I was a kid when I died the first, second and third time." He punctuated each sentence with a jab to Wilbur's chest and a puff of smoke in his face.
And Wilbur,
He faltered for a second. His face dropped and he spoke.
"I know."
God Tommy has that entire fucking speech and the best I can say to that is 'I know.'
"Then you should know or at least realize by now, if I'm old enough to die then I'm not a kid anymore. I haven't been one in awhile." Tommy's eyes reflected the fire. But he didn't want to cry in front of Will. Not like this.
Tommy shrunk into himself as arms wrapped around his shoulders.
Wilbur's own shoulders shook as he reached to hug the blonde. He probably should have let go when Tommy stiffened in his grip but he didn't. He couldn't.
"I'm- I'm sorry. Tommy I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve that. And I'm so fucking sorry about everything after that. Pogtopia, Doomsday, my death, my revival."
He sniffed and continued.
"I've been walking around preaching about apologizing and making amends with the people I've hurt but I've avoided you. I pretended to forget how much I hurt you. And here I am, trying to- to control you. Prime I'm so fucking stupid. I'm sorry.."
Wilbur wanted to pretend that if they stayed in that spot for long enough, things would change for the better.
But that's not what happened. Because Tommy, despite wanting to forgive him for the hurt he's caused him, he couldn't give Wilbur the benefit of the doubt.
"You'll never change. I accepted that a long time ago. Maybe you should too."
It was like he was being stabbed in the button room all over again, except this time it was Tommy, not Phil dealing the final blow.
They sat, wallowing in the even darker clouds cast above their heads.
"Do you really wanna know?"
…
"...I started in exile. The first one that is. You had so many boxes and I thought you wouldn't notice if a few went missing. It went from one a week to twice a week then almost everyday. Tubbo didn't allow any of that in Lmanburg when he became prez though." He scoffed lightly before continuing. "I still did sometimes. In a field or something far away. Then I got exiled again and had to stop. Dream wouldn't let me keep anything so there really wasn't any point. I got hooked on Golden Apple while with Techno. Didn't really think about smoking again until I- until I died. No one really gave me shit about it since no one was really around. No one, until you I guess."
Wilbur didn't really know what to say. He'd said everything he wanted to and now was left speechless.
But Tommy wasn't.
"I wanted to stop. I kept telling myself, 'I don't wanna be like him'. Tubbo once told me, "If I can't be the next Schlatt, you can't be the next Wilbur." Yet there I was, little by little becoming the man I never wanted to be. And it's all your fault."
Wilbur knew it was coming. He knew Tommy was angry and he could understand why. He'd fucked up badly and no half assed apologizes could fix that.
It might be too late to fix the past but Wilbur will sure as hell try to and avoid making the same mistakes in the future.