Archive of Our Own ^beta

Wilbur sat alone around a dying fire, everyone else had gone to sleep by now, resting up for the big day ahead of them. It would be smart of him to do the same, but he couldn't force himself to get up.

His hands shook as he dug around in his pocket, searching for a cigarette to ease his nerves. He eventually found one and used the few tiny flames that were still hanging on to light it, bringing it to his lips to take a deep inhale of smoke, letting it sit in his chest before blowing it out, watching the smoke rise and disappear into the air

Tomorrow was a big day for Wilbur, they were finally going to take back L’manburg. He should be brimming with anticipation, but all he could feel was dread for the day ahead. Everything was going to change tomorrow, and not in a good way

The past few weeks had been extremely rough for Wilbur. It feels like he is stuck on a rollercoaster that has been spiraling out of control with everyone around him watching, but no one has bothered to try to turn it off. It pains him to wake up every day and see everyone's faces when he walks by. They know he is long gone, they just won't say anything about it. At least, not to his face

He couldn't help but scowl, knowing that everyone had given up on him, hurt deeply. It felt like he was being betrayed over and over again by the people he thought would always be there for him

Taking another puff of his cigarette, he let his eyes fall closed for a brief moment, trying to forget the fact that all of the people who once looked up to him now saw him as a failure of a man, one who couldn't be saved anymore.

Opening his eyes, he was met with the buttons that lined the walls of Pogtopia. They stared back at him, reminding him of the inevitable

His body stiffened as he thought of the button. He could feel the itch in his hands, they were desperate to press that damn thing and get it all over with so he could finally rest and free everyone from the burden of L’manburg.

Wilbur grimaced, trying to rid his mind of thoughts about blowing up L’manburg. Not yet, he had to wait just a little longer…he can handle one more night

He looked down at the floor, mind racing too fast for him to process a single thought. God, he couldn't wait for it to be all over. All these years of pain and stress were finally coming to a close tomorrow, just after he pressed that button, he would be free from this cruel world

Reaching a shaking hand up to his chest, he felt his heart beating through his shirt. The feeling grounded him for a brief moment, a calm feeling brushing by him like a breeze before it left just as quickly as it had arrived.

Keeping his hand on his heart, he thought about what was going to come after he blew up L’manburg, the perfect suicide he had been planning for months. He wanted to go out with a literal bang. He wanted everyone to see him and what he had done, to put on one last show for them before his demise.

Wilbur clutched his chest, anxiety and guilt twisting his insides into knots. He couldn't believe he was actually going through with this. So many times had he been in that room, contemplating just pushing it, but he always stopped himself right before, pulling himself up from the edge every single time

The fire finally fizzled out. I guess it was time for him to get up. He didn't want to, but he forced himself to stand anyway.

He stretched his aching body, wincing at each pop and crack that came from his tired bones. He tries not to think about all the damage that has been done to his body in such a short amount of time

Sighing heavily, he turned on his heels and headed towards the winding stairs that led to the surface. Some fresh air might help him feel better. He doubted it, but it was worth one last shot

Climbing up the stairs was a challenge, but he unfortunately managed to make it out without slipping. He stared up at the night sky between the trees that surrounded Pogtopias' entrance. Admittedly, he was afraid to leave the safety of the ravine, scared that the second he stepped out, he would be spotted and killed, and L’manburg would be left standing. Luckily for him, when he finally built the courage to crawl out of Pogtopia, nothing seemed to happen. He felt a bit embarrassed about worrying that much over nothing, but could you blame him?

Wilbur wandered around for a bit before sitting down in a clearing in the forest, staring up at the night sky blankly. He felt his body calm down a little bit, the knots in his stomach detangling every so slightly.

He watched the stars twinkle gently in the night sky, different constellations catching his eye. It surprised him that he still remembered all these years later, he used to study them every chance he got back in L’manburg.

A frown stretched across his face as he thought about how good he used to have it. Happy memories slowly turned into sour ones the more he dwelled on the past, he always managed to ruin things for himself

Shaking his head, Wilbur looked down at the ground, multi-colored leaves decorated the grass below him. Fall was always his favorite season. He always had his best ideas during the fall, whether that be poems or songs, his most cherished works of art were always made in the fall

Wilbur groaned loudly, why can't he just let go of his past already? He hated thinking about it, yet his mind always wandered back to it.

His throat tightened, why could he have just been a better person? Things wouldn't have gone so terribly if he had just cleaned up his act. He would still have L’manburg, his family, his friends…if only he hadn't been foolish enough to think he could make it as a leader

“...Fuck me..” Wilbur mumbled, trying his best to blink away his tears. Despite being alone, he refused to let himself cry, there was no point now

Grabbing his hair, he twisted a lock around his fingers before tugging on it firmly, but not hard enough to rip any hair out, trying his best to take his mind off things. It helped a little bit, but he still felt empty

Letting go of his hair, he slowly stood up again, deciding there was nothing else to do besides head back to Pogtopia. It wasn't like things were going to change from him sitting there and feeling bad about himself.

As he walked back to Pogtopia, he couldnt help but feel an urge to go to the button room one last time before he committed to it. He tried to ignore it, knowing that doing so would just make him feel worse, but the urge was relentless.

Wilbur stopped just before the entrance to Pogtopia, seriously considering whether it was a good idea to visit the button. He knew it was bad, but he just couldnt get rid of the urge. He had been there 7 times at this point, making it 8 couldnt hurt that bad, right?

Checking his surroundings to make sure no one else was around, he ran off, sneaking away to the button room once again

He felt a pit in his stomach as he navigated the familiar path to the button. Each familiar sight that passed him added more to the dreadful feeling. As much as he hated seeing that damn button, he just couldnt help but come back to it, waiting for the day he could finally press it

After a bit more walking, he was finally faced with the tight stone hallway that led to the button room. It was long, dim, and claustrophobic, adding to the hellish atmosphere he created. If he squinted, he could just barely see the old wooden chair he had set up in there, using it during his worst visits

Taking a deep breath, he trudged down the hallway, dragging his hands across the walls to keep himself grounded. Dirt crunched underneath his boots as he walked, breaking up the eerie silence that only worsened Wilbur's mental state

Finally, he had reached the button. It was still safe and sound, right where he needed it to be. He always felt relieved to see the button still mounted to the wall; the thought of someone finding it and taking it away would keep him up at night

He approached the button slowly, his eyes scanning the incoherent rambles he had carved into the walls. Seeing every single breakdown displayed in front of him was terrifying, especially since he knew this was what everyone else saw from him every single day. It put things into perspective

Wilbur forced himself to look away, backing away from the button before he did anything rash. He continued to stare at the button from afar, clasping his hands tightly together behind his back, keeping them close to his body just in case

Silence hung in the air, reminding him that he was all alone, just him and the button, how terrible.

Breathing heavily, his head spun with daydreams of how things would be once L’manburg was gone, how everything would finally be put to rest, his symphony forever unfinished. Even though he knew that this would cost him all of his friends and family, it's not like that would matter for too long. He planned on being gone the second the dust settled

Speaking of that, his head turned to his weapon of choice propped up in the corner. Wilbur had made it specifically for the occasion, putting enchantments that he knew would hurt the most on it. He preferred ranged weapons, but he didn't think killing himself with a bow or gun would be as satisfying. With a sword, he could feel and see everything

Looking back at the button, he reached out to it, letting the tips of his fingers brush against the wood. He had done this little ritual thousands of times at this point, it satisfied him just enough to calm his nerves, but it was never truly enough

Without thinking, Wilbur gave it a slight push, just enough to hear the sizzle of the thousands of stacks of TNT buried under L’manburg, but he didn't dare go any further. He had to control himself

Pulling his hand away from the button, he felt lighter now that he had dulled the urge. He would even say he felt happier

Seeing no reason to stay, he turned and walked away, trudging back down the dark hallway before emerging, immediately noticing the beginnings of the sunrise. Wilbur had completely lost track of time, but he didn't feel guilty about it. His last night was well spent

The button was like a drug. Wilbur couldnt help but go back to it despite how bad it was for him. I mean, he was a pretty heavy drug user, so it's no wonder he got addicted to the feeling of touching and even pressing it ever so slightly, just to hear that satisfying sizzle. I guess that means tomorrow is his overdose, but that sounds a bit silly, don't you think?

Wilbur approached Pogtopia for the final time. It just started to hit him that this was the last time he would be doing this. He felt glad that it was all finally over, but at the same time, he felt scared. What would happen to him once the deed was done? Where would he go? He had so many questions, but he knew they would never be answered, he had to find out for himself

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he noticed that someone had lit a few torches. He didn't think anyone would be awake right now, but maybe they were just as anxious as he was. Wilbur wanted to find whoever it was, desperate to have any human connection before it was time, but he didn't go looking for them, instead he headed straight into his cramped room, deciding to pretend he was just busy with plans or something

Sitting down at his desk, he looked at everything he had done over the past few months, each plan he had made displayed on his walls and scattered around his desk. It was almost bittersweet seeing all of the work he had done in an effort to take back what once was his, even if in the end it would amount to nothing

He perked up when he started hearing muffled voices. I guess everyone decided to get up early for the special occasion

Wilbur really didn't want to, but he figured he had to go out there and see everyone eventually, so he forced himself to stand up, looking around his dingy little room one last time before leaving it behind.

His final act had begun