Chapter Text
At first, when Wilbur was revived, he admired Dream. A lot.
He would constantly be bugging Sam to let him in the prison to speak with him, to thank him, and possibly, plan an escape.
The warden saw that gleam in his eyes and always refused, keeping his promise with Tommy, even if the younger hated him.
Ranboo was often the one who had to put up with Wilbur’s ranting about his ‘saviour’. While they were working beside Las Nevadas, the older brought up the subject multiple times a day. Not that Ranboo would remember much of it, but he made small notes in his book about Wilbur’s fondness towards Dream.
Most people on the server chose to ignore it, often giving him weird glances whenever he’d talk about the prisoner. Yet they didn’t care enough to say anything to him.
They also failed to mention what Wilbur had just discovered.
He wasn’t sure if everyone knew about it, but he prayed that he wasn’t the first to see it. He didn’t know how to bring this up to other people.
He’d been on his way to Tommy’s house, when he noticed a small hole underneath his house.
He thought nothing of it, going to check it out, curiosity getting the better of him. He was wrong to think that it was nothing.
In front of him, a messily dugout tunnel lay, just large enough for Wilbur to get through the entrance.
The walls were lined with dirt and stones, roots hanging from the ceiling. Clearly, no one had been here in a while.
Wilbur pulled out his lighter, dimly illuminating the way, pushing off the nauseating feeling he got while going in further.
Tommy didn’t make this. That was clear enough. Sure, he wasn’t always the best builder, but he wouldn’t leave something this badly made right under his house. His pride and ego would’ve stopped him from doing that.
A small sense of fear flooded through Wilbur, not wanting to think about who created this.
Smiles were etched into the walls, dried blood coating some of them as he got further into the tunnel.
Ahead of him, he saw a light. He quickly moved towards it, climbing up the ladder until he reached an exit. Inside Tommy’s house.
He was going to throw up, he couldn’t do this.
TommyInnit whispers to you: oi I thought we were meeting today?
You whisper to TommyInnit: I’m running a bit late, I’ll be there soon
TommyInnit whispers to you: alright big man
Wilbur shoved his communicator back into his jacket pocket, returning back into the tunnel.
It was barely tall enough for him to stand, having to awkwardly squat so he wouldn’t hit his head. He was glad that his beanie kept the small, loose stones from ending up in his hair.
As he carried on, the dried blood and carvings became more frequent. Going from small smiley faces, to violent lines scratched all the way down the walls, almost looking as if a mob got in and tried to attack someone.
He felt as if this should’ve been his limbo, not the train station. He knew that he would’ve had way more nightmares being stuck in this labyrinth than the station.
At this point, Wilbur didn’t know where he was. It felt as though he’d been walking for hours.
It wasn’t long until another light was spotted ahead in the distance, and he prayed that this was all over.
Once again climbing a very unstable looking ladder, he left the tunnel.
In front of him was one of his brother’s Jukeboxes.
A wooden bench, slowly rotting away, was placed beside it.
He left immediately, heading back into the tunnel.
He knew he should have left, feeling unsettled as it was already. Someone had clearly been watching his brother, and he could easily guess who. Yet something drew him back in, as if he couldn’t leave until he’d seen everything.
He carried on walking through the hollowed out dirt, cursing Dream’s name under his breath.
He started noticing that he was crumpling small notebooks and pieces of paper under his feet as he walked, stopping to pick up a few pieces.
They were covered in dirt and aggressively torn out of a book, many pages missing words from the rips.
‘14th June, listened to jukebox with Tubbo and Ranboo’
‘24th August, struggled to fall asleep’
‘He needs me’
‘12th December, Ghostbur visited in exile’
‘I’d be a better brother’
More and more dates were written, pages filled with Tommy’s every movement, sending shivers up his spine.
He felt sick thinking about how he’d been adoring his brother’s stalker for weeks now.
He tore up the pages, continuing to walk through the tunnel, pushing his uneasiness down. He had to know what this fucker had done so he could make him pay.
The tunnel slowly started getting bigger, confusing Wilbur, to say the least.
Chills covered his body as he figured out why.
A small cave-like room was what he ran into, piles of the same notebooks that he’d found earlier absolutely covering the floor, as if it were carpet.
The walls had the smiles etched into them again, yet that’s not what he focused on.
There were photos of Tommy everywhere, all pinned up on the walls with rusting nails, or scattered over an old, oak desk.
Him sleeping; sitting alone on the grass; with Tubbo in the times of Pogtopia; alone in exile; alone in his house.
Annotations were messily written over all the photos, Dream’s writing claiming how easy it would’ve been in all these photos to have taken Tommy away.
Wilbur’s hands shook at his sides, not knowing how to react.
He didn’t know whether to cry, throw up, or go to the prison and kill Dream slowly and painfully.
Guilt pooled in his gut. How didn’t he notice this sooner?? Surely someone must’ve seen Dream do this. There were photos of Tommy all over the server, there’s no way that he got away with it.
You whisper to Awesamdude: I’m coming to the prison, you can’t stop me
He put his communicator back, and returned back through the tunnels.
Wilbur found the nearest exit out of the tunnels, ending up beside one of Tommy’s jukeboxes again.
“I’m so sorry, Toms,” he whispered to himself.
He didn’t know what else to say. What else could he say?!
He wasn’t even sure if Tommy was aware of these tunnels, and the kid was in no mental state to suddenly find out about them. Especially not from his brother who he was still learning to trust.
Sighing to himself, he stood up, and started walking as far away as he could from the tunnels. It didn’t help that the uneasiness was followed by the feeling of someone watching him.