Chapter Text
It was quiet here. Too quiet.
The only sounds to be heard were the pitter patter of rain drops on the roof, and his small groans of frustration. He didn’t want to be here. Why did the blonde thing put him in this room? He doesn’t remember coming in either, but then again the young man‘s memory isn’t exactly reliable.
No food. No nothing. Alone. He’s alone.
There was food a while ago. Tasty and delicious. That was before he got stuck in here though.
He didn’t think he liked being alone very much.. At least if the man were outside he’d be able to find comfort being around others like himself. Had he done something wrong?
Cold. So cold.
Warmth. He wanted warmth.
Curling in on himself, the man uselessly tried to keep warm. Attempting to bury himself in his coat, but that couldn’t shake away the shivers. No. He doesn’t like this. It’s too quiet. He wants the blonde thing to come back. The man doesn’t want to be alone.
Where did the group go? He was with one not too long ago.. What happened to it? There’s safety in groups. He didn’t feel safe here. He wanted to get out. He needed to get out.
Let him out let him out let him out!
Maybe if he screamed loud enough someone would help him. It was always when he didn’t want to think, when he thought the most. Why was he thinking now? Stop. Stop it. Just let him out.
It’s cold in here.
So cold.
He’s hungry too.
—————
Regular zombies were pitiful and dangerous enough, but seeing the reanimated corpse of your older brother? That was even worse. First, how did Wilbur turn? Tommy thought that he’d been killed before he could. Second, where the hell did he come from? Was his brother really around here this whole time?
The sight was gut-wrenching to say the least. He’d seen this on all zombies. Dark sickly veins, black eyes that almost looked hollow, skin too pale to be normal, and blood dripping from their mouths, noses and eyes. But it looked so much worse on Wilbur. Seeing a family member like that, it’s just wrong..
Thank goodness Ghostbur wasn’t here. He went somewhere after spotting what looked like a sheep in a field, and said he’d be back later. His ghostly brother would be fine, Ghostbur may be naive but he’s smart. Zombies can’t hurt him anyway.
It didn’t seem like Wilbur realized he was back yet. Whether that was on account of his broken glasses, or the poor vision zombies seem to have, Tommy didn’t know. He could see his older brother sitting against the wall in the corner of the room.
Was he.. shivering?
His relationship with his brother had been tense before Wilbur had been bit. The man seemed to be losing his mind from the weight of everything on his shoulders. He hadn’t done anything to exactly hurt anyone.. but he seemed close to snapping. It reminded the boy of a spark that just grew bigger and bigger before erupting in flames. But.. They were still family, and it still hurt when Tommy found out Wilbur had been bitten.
Then how much more it hurt when he found out Phil had killed him..
‘Stop. Stop thinking about it, big man.’ Tommy thought, trying to get himself to calm down. Although who would be calm in a situation like this? Probably not a sane person.
The boy was snapped out of his thoughts when he saw that Wilbur was shivering again. It was.. a sad and strange sight. It wasn’t a hot day, but it wasn’t particularly cold either. His brother appeared to be freezing; however, he kept holding himself as though trying to warm up. Maybe the undead are sensitive to the cold?
Tommy wasn’t sure if he’d noticed the infected doing that before. Much of his time spent around zombies consisted of either running from them, hiding, or trying to kill them before they could bite him. So the boy never really had the time, or the care to just observe them.
It was upsetting to see Wilbur like that. Tommy found himself wishing there was something he could do to help him, but the boy knew that the corpse would sooner try to rip him apart than say thank you. It may look like his brother, but it wasn’t Wilbur anymore, but for some reason.. It hurts to watch.
Maybe there was something he could do to get his brother to stop looking so miserable? Tommy still had his bandana. It wasn’t much.. but maybe it could help Wilbur warm up a bit?
He’d probably end up wanting this back later, but the boy took his green bandana off, and carefully tossed it over to the zombie in the corner of the room. Which earned a surprised noise from it.
The man tensed up. Shivering still present, but he looked around now with nearly sightless eyes, attempting to spot where the green fabric came from. He started to sniff the air, which made Tommy panic a little. The boy forgot that the undead have a really good sense of smell. ‘Oh shit oh shit oh shit. He knows I’m here. He’s going to find me.’
Instead, nothing happened. Surprisingly the zombie seemed more interested in the piece of clothing that landed in front of him, grabbing it and staring at it. He looked confused. Which made sense as Wilbur probably can’t even think anymore, much less know what’s going on. At least he wasn’t shivering as bad as before.
If he had any semblance of thought, although unlikely, Tommy wondered what could be going on in the man’s head. Would it be like the lights are on but nobody's home type of thing? It seemed that way.. judging by his brother’s behaviour. Wilbur was still staring at the bandana, holding it tightly and slowly blinking as though it were some kind of puzzle to be solved.
Well. Tommy supposed there was nothing left to do now. He should probably head home and find Ghostbur. Could come back and check on Wilbur tomorrow. It’s not like the zombie could go anywhere.
At least. He was about to leave, when he thought he heard something.
A weak, raspy voice.
“T-T..om..my..”
Oh shit.
Tommy spun around to see Wilbur still holding his neckerchief. The man wasn’t taking his eyes off the fabric, and Tommy felt his heart starting to race. Wilbur.. said his name?
How..?
How did he do that?