Archive of Our Own ^beta

I just want to run in

And take you far away

Someplace we never been

Chasing stars in the dark

It smells like spring.

Shelby holds her head high, eyes straining at the hazy blue horizon. Fields of golden wheat surround her, billowing gently. It’s early in the season but whenever she’s around, the plants always seem to grow faster. There isn’t really an explanation for that but if she strains her ears enough then she can hear their call.

She shouldn't be thinking about her plants. She should be thinking about that delivery from Philza Minecraft, the one that should be here by now. But all she can think about is the shining sun, the feeling of the sun melting her skin and warming her up. The clouds are rolling quicker than usual as the wind picks up, heavy cream clouds expanding overhead.

Her thoughts are all a buzz, unable to stay focused on a single thought. It’s a mess of when should she collect the new harvest, what should she eat, what would be substantial enough that isn’t just bread again, or something to do that isn’t just waiting for the inevitable, but there is one goal that’s staying put in her mind. The arrival of her next weeks' worth of medicine.

Philza should be here by now. It wasn’t like him to be late. Days flowed like clockwork around here, so the break in the schedule gave her more time to do something that let her breathe. Maybe she can take out a sewing kit, work on embroidering different little designs for the sleeves of her yellow sweater while she waits.

Yeah, why not?

Shelby’s sitting on the porch of her cottage home, knitting and occasionally looking up to watch the sky. The days are always golden. She's slowly grown to dislike the golden hour. That might be a small lie, she doesn't hate the golden hour but seeing it every day has gotten a little old. She could never truly hate what it was because at its core, it was a piece of herself.

But there comes a time where it's tiring to see the same blurring colors. The days are no longer special when they're all the same. The cloud forms from one thing to another, the day melts a little and she wipes her forehead as she hears the familiar sound of wings.

Shelby looks up and watches the horizon, startled as the shape that usually would be Philza wasn’t really Philza. A smaller shadow at the edge of the world, a boy who was of bitter lemons and sour summer stumbled into the wheat field. She placed down the little sewing kit, standing up to hand him the gold.

He seemed so quiet, staring at her. Judging her, and not saying anything. His beady brown eyes held pieces of confusion. Maybe he was lost with why he was delivering this to her in the middle of nowhere. Maybe he was just bitter.

Well, she has to say something to break the ice…

"You're not the best flier, are you?"

That probably wasn’t the best thing to say as an introduction.

"I'll have you know I'm the best flier out of my brothers! Best flier that I know, other than Philza. Well, Techno can't fly-"

"Brothers? …is Philza your dad?"

"Why should I tell you anything?"

"Maybe because I'm asking nicely?"

Shelby gives him a smile as she tosses him the gold. He moves quickly, catching it in his hands. He tosses the bag repetitively in the air, checking the weight before smiling. He makes the first move to hand over a small crate that rattles with glass. She opens it and sighs, counting the toppers of each vial just double checking to make sure that nothing broke.

“Yeah, Phil’s my dad.”

“You must be pretty young to be doing a chore like this.”

“Hey! You’re young yourself!” His feathers ruffle and her eyes widen as she huffs a breath of laughter.

“I’m older than you.”

“As if.”

He seems already ready to leave. That can’t happen now.

It would be wrong to lose a feeling like this. He just has a vibe that she wants to be around. He seems like one of the people she could trust to be a friend of sorts. They would be good friends; he has the vibe of being a good friend.

“Hey!”

“What?”

He doesn’t seem amused, but she doesn’t really know his name. She’s pulling at threads, silk strings that turn to dust, lost in her head. What could she even say to make him her friend?

“Do you want something else you could bring back?”

He seems a bit suspicious of the offer, confused. Though he still nods.

“But I’m staying out here.”

Yeah, she wouldn’t trust herself either.

She digs around her cozy little cottage, looking for anything. A marble, a quill, a clay mug, pressed flowers, something that could be seen as a parting gift. There’s something staring at her, something that she was looking at and it was staring back at her. She cradles it in her palm and brings it outside.

He doesn’t get closer to her at all, just watching her from afar so she takes the steps to hand it to him. He looks at it in his palm and raises an eyebrow.

“Really? What is this?”

Shelby scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“What do you think?”

“A dandelion flower?”

“Yeah, you can stitch it on your clothes.”

“You made this?”

“Yeah!”

“... You’re really good at this.”

“Thanks!”

“Have a good night.”

Was it already that late? Surely enough, the sun was dipping down the blue and the sky was painted pink, melting with blue and yellow. It was too familiar but maybe it’ll get better instead of just burning her eyes.

He’s about to leave, wings adjusted to take off. Auburn, tawny wings bent as Shelby shouts.

“What’s your name?!”

He looks over at her, a little startled. Snapping out of a stare, he smiles wide and grins.

“Wilbur!”

She nods, turning to go back in but he yells at her, startling her.

“Hey!”

She glares at him as she stumbles on the step and he laughs, exactly like a ringing bell. It’s bright, stupid and all good natured.

It feels so good to hear someone laugh.

“What’s your name?!”

“Shelby!”

“WHAT?!”

“SHELBY!”

Wilbur laughs at her and his wings lift him off the ground. He flies a few circles around the cottage in the middle of endless fields of wheat, bathed in a soothing sunset.

He looks like he’s glowing.

Or shimmering.

He’s a piece of summer that she’s been missing.

Shelby almost forgot about the reason why he was here and immediately headed inside. Maybe he’ll come back. Of course he will, who was she kidding? She just had that charm! So, hopefully if she crosses her fingers and hopes, he’ll come back next week.

She can only hope.

A week always feels longer than it should be. But for once she has something to wait for. Something that isn’t just a paid job for someone else. For the first time it feels like time is torturing her. Instead of a week’s time it feels like it has been a month. She repeats things over and over again in her head, thinking that maybe Wilbur will be here again. Maybe old Philza Minecraft isn’t going to just do his job and will let Wilbur come over again. This is something that can be her everyday normal. If she hopes enough. Wishes hard enough.

Deciding that she wants to do something out of the normal, Shelby was dedicated to doing more things to “keep her busy.” It was most definitely something she wasn’t used to. Carving open a pumpkin and following a faded yellow recipe for pumpkin pie wasn’t something that she thought she would do in her everyday normal. It took time but it helped distract her from the wait and the urgency to see Wilbur.

When she finished the pie, she let it cool on the windowsill. Now there wasn’t anything to do. So she sat down on the porch. She was repeating the same process of keeping her hands busy while she waited for Wilbur to arrive.

Usually, she wasn’t as excited to wait for the medicine but this was the exception. Shelby didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she fidgets with her clothes while she watches the blue and yellow horizon.

The same fields of wheat that stretch for miles plague her vision, it’s almost sickening. She wasn’t sure how long it took staring at those disgusting plants, but the sound of heavy feathers and a tumble into the fields immediately left her grinning.

“Wilbur!

It was a shout that left him tossing his hair back and smiling at her, carrying the medicine carefully as he takes long strides over to her. He hands it over to her, the words still left on her tongue.

Hey.”

Shelby smiles as Wilbur does, a warm face on a sunny day.

“How are you doing Shelby?”

“Bored, but good. I made you something!”

“You did! Why?”

Shelby didn’t really have a reason for why she did it. A gift? A symbol of their friendship? Maybe she just did it so she can give him something to eat as for all the trouble? It was just something that she took the time learning so that he could have, and it was something to do while she waited. It didn’t mean much, but she made it for him just so he could have it.

“Just because. Why not, you know?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Okay, shush you.”

She playfully rolls her eyes and walks over to the windowsill. Placing the medicine down, she wraps the pie carefully in a gingham kerchief tied with a dandelion. Handing it over, his face is hard to tell what he’s currently feeling. Wilbur’s eyes are just wide, and he is carefully holding the kerchief. There might be some slight confusion, probably with the dandelion flower.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

They just stay silent around each other. It’s plenty awkward as the breeze picks up and the fields of wheat follow the trail of the wind. Slowly billowing as they watch the other.

Wilbur is the first one to break the silence.

“I’m… going to go now.”

Wings bent, already ready to do so.

“Wait!”

Shelby didn’t know what to say or why she called out in the first place. Her grip was tight on her clothing, clenching, her posture stiff. What was she supposed to say? He was only supposed to do his job, his chore for the day. Maybe he didn’t really want to be around her and was just doing his job.

At the very least she had to try.

“Do you want to come back next time?”

“Of course I’ll be back-”

“I don’t mean for the medicine.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t know! Hang out? Stay longer? I’m just- fed up with being bored. And alone.”

Wilbur is just watching her with an unreadable expression.

And he smiles.

“I can’t today!”

It feels like sadness. Dejected? Down. A painful sort of despondency.

Wilbur can tell almost immediately, his feathers ruffling as he quickly corrects the situation.

“Next time!”

The pain melts away as they repair the little mishap, and she can’t help but laugh as he flies away. A sunset captures his shadow on golden fields.

Maybe she only lies to herself. The golden hour wasn't as bad as she thought it was. It looks better when there's someone who's here. Someone who's smiling and enjoying the sun with her.

Someone like Wilbur.

Someone who reminds her of dandelions.

It feels so good when a dandelion's wish comes true.

Months move quicker when someone spends time with you. Especially when there is something you’re looking forward to. Mostly for Shelby, she was just excited to hang out with Wilbur. Most of it was her asking if they were finally friends and Wilbur joking around and denying it, but he admitted that he was also happy to have a friend that was about his age.

Today was a quiet day for the both of them. Sitting under the oak tree that sat on a hill overlooking the field. Wilbur had a particularly bad crash landing today and cut his hand on gravel. He had grit through the skin injury and Shelby taking out the gravel and washing the wound, cleaning it up. There were small little cuts all over his hand recently. To help with his anxieties she hummed a lullaby while she unwrapped band-aids to wrap around his hands.

He was controlling his breathing quite well, but there was a moment where she was worried that he was crying. His hands were covered in calluses, probably from past flying incidents that she wasn’t there for.

“Wil?”

He looks up at her, the silence now broken.

“Yes Shelby?”

“All done.”

“Mhmm.” His tone was low with a soft smile.

The shadows of clouds slowly pass overhead, a silent roll.

Shelby smiles a little too wide, fingers itching.

“Are you ready?”

“For what?”

Shelby gets up, brushing off her clothes from the dirt and grass. She tries to be as nonchalant as possible, but she can’t help it.

“TAG!”

She books it, running quickly without a care into the wheat fields. The wheat could be trampled for all she cared. She turns on her heel sharply, throwing her head over her shoulder to look at Wilbur, screaming.

“YOU’RE IT!”

He was still for a second, looking at his bandaged hand and then back up at Shelby, stunned. Immediately he grins and he runs after her.

She could hear Wilbur chasing after her as Shelby kept on running. Running and running until she couldn’t hear him anymore. She had to catch her breath quickly. It was until she saw the shadow of a figure swooping down from behind her. Ducking quickly, she barely misses Wilbur’s bandaged hand.

“WIL! THAT’S CHEATING!”

“NO IT’S NOT!”

Wilbur was flying after her, brown tawny wings speckled with white flecks flapping as he reaches out for her again as she hides in the wheat fields before standing up and running again.

It was careless, it was freeing. Chasing each other as the sun above moved slowly in a pale blue sky.

He was gold. The first bloom of a dandelion.

Wilbur reminded her of dandelions.

I know you hate this place

Looking right through your heart

That it drives you insane

Hoping you won’t fall apart

The skies are pearly and blue as Wilbur's wings cut through the air. Above the mellow clouds, a sea in the sky all his to explore. Today wasn't a day for exploring though. Today was a day for a visit to gold swept rolling hills of wheat, endless blue skies and sunflowers. Specifically one sunflower in particular.

He dives, dipping under the cloud and sees the sea of wheat and Shelby out in the middle with a sickle in hand. She wipes her brow as she looks up and waves Wilbur down.

His wings pick up dust as he lands, better than he's done before in a while and Shelby is coughing a bit. Wilbur pulls out a handkerchief and stretches out to give it to Shelby. She takes it in her hand, using it to cover her cough. He pats her back when it seems to be a bit painful.

He pulls back when she stops coughing as harshly and she looks down at the handkerchief.

Wilbur can't really understand the furrowed expression as she puts in her overall pockets.

"I'll wash it and give it back-"

"No, you can keep it."

Shelby looks at him, smiling.

He ends up watching her work. He's tried asking her before if she needed any help with anything at all, but he's turned down almost immediately. He knows better than to ask now, so he just ends up watching her and thinking about things.

Things like why Shelby needs medicine like this. He had to beg Dadza to let him take the medicine to her and to let him stay longer than just a medicine delivery.

That led to a lecture about why he shouldn't really go alone this far out from home alone.

Wilbur argued back with "Why? He was allowed for the first time." Phil seemed a bit exasperated and then just said, "Fine, if you want to so badly then you can."

Wilbur had punched the air excitedly, his wings ruffling.

"But you're going to need to learn how to do the potions as well."

"What?! But those take so long to make..."

"It's that or nothing."

"Fiiiine."

That's when he learned that Shelby had been sick since she was a kid, almost as old as Tommy when she was first diagnosed. There used to be a village around her, but everyone left when they thought it was contagious, including her parents. But they didn't want to be blamed for killing her, so they send her money and have Philza deliver the medicine that she needs so that she could live peacefully with the little time she has left.

Phil didn’t tell him any more than that.

He didn’t want to know.

“Wilbur, you good?”

Wilbur looks up at the sound of his voice being called. Shelby was looking over at him a little worried. He nods and smiles loosely.

“Yeah!”

He flitters around her, playfully watching her take care of the bundles of wheat in her arm. Their conversation is almost as dry as the weather. Bored of nothing but the movement of the world and trying to start talking with empty jokes.

“What’s up?”

“Huh?”

“Come on, answer!”

“Okay, okay… what?”

“Me.”

The crops are as yellow as her when she laughs.

“That was not funny!”

“I know!”

She had to have found it a little funny, and their conversations get more fluid with each cloud that passes overhead. It starts with flowers and what kind of flower they would each be, he said Shelby would be a sunflower and she said that he’s a dandelion. He didn’t really see it, he thought he’d be a daisy or a cornflower. Not a weed.

“It’s not a weed!”

“Of course it’s a weed, by definition it’s a weed.”

“Okay, yes but-”

“Ha!”

“Listen! It’s also a flower, but you can use it for so many other things! It’s a versatile plant and a health remedy. It means hope and health and wishes and stuff! Good deeds and sunshine.”

“Good deeds and sunshine.”

His tone is definitely sarcastic, and Shelby gives him a look that he can’t help but laugh at. Conversations just like these just flowed when they talked about whatever. He would bring up Tommy and how he’s going to start learning how to fly soon and that he’s going to be teaching him how to fly soon. He’s so proud of him, a smile never leaving his face as Shelby looks up at him.

It’s too warm for a spring day.

Shelby finished a section and decided to take a break, going over to the porch of her cottage and sitting down exasperatedly. He follows after her and sits down. The silence isn’t as loud as the sound of living. The world with everything loud. The sun, little bugs and a pleasant breeze.

Their chatter had died as they watched cream coated clouds form different shapes and follow the breeze. It’s quite peaceful as he turns to look at Shelby, he watches her fidget nervously. Wilbur sighs and motions at her with a hand.

“Huh?” She’s alarmed at how quickly he notices things.

“You want to say something don’t you?”

“Yeah… but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable with a serious topic.”

“Hey, if you need someone to listen to you, I’m here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

Shelby sighs, lowering her head.

“God, I just want to get out of here. I don’t know how much longer I can take it here.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Yes, I know it’s so comfortable here but I just want to see something. Something other than the same thing every day. It’s driving me crazy Wil! There’s a whole freaking world out there and I want to do something with my life. It’s stifling. It’s boring! I want to do so much. I want to see it all. The snow, feel the sand in my toes, even climb a mountain! There is the chance that I could get hurt, of course I would, who am I kidding but I still want to do it even if I’ll get hurt.”

She’s buried herself in her arms, sighing as she looks at him from the pile of herself that she made. A little puddle of regret looks back at him and he sighs. He makes himself mimic her position, looking back at her. It’s almost like looking in a mirror when they mock each other as such.

“Hey.”

“Hey…”

“You know that I’ll be there for you.”

“Yeah…”

“I’m serious! I promise. I’ll be the one to help show you the world. When I get strong enough to carry you, we’ll fly away together.”

Shelby laughs at his words, fixing her posture. There’s something bitter about it, sour at the end. Maybe she doesn’t have as much hope for that future. Probably.

She’s so vibrant here even though she’s withering.

Her spirit matches the feelings of her home, but she wants something more.

“I know, I know. I just can’t really help it. I’m going insane. There are just far too many uncanny circumstances that led me here.”

The world is full of red and yellow hues, vibrancy against her skin. Shelby was gazing, a painful sort of longingly. It frames her in such a sad way, dripping with bitter mellow gold, tangerine jealousy and sour crimson sadness. She can make the beauty of a golden hour feel wrong with just a frown. A glowing melancholy that he wants to wipe away. Retrieve her smile and have it be another wonderful summer day.

“You’re really going crazy here.”

Shelby nods.

It feels like a tragedy.

“I hope you know that we’ll reach the stars someday. Explore the beauty and the tragedy of this world together."

There’s something about what he said that leaves her a little awestruck.

A smile.

"I hope so Wil."

We’re chasing stars in the dark

in the dark, in the dark

“Catch me if you can!”

“Shelby! Slow down!”

They’re chasing after the other, the tail ends of each other’s heels. Shelby stumbles into the ground, practically falling through and immediately panics. Wilbur sighs as he grabs her arm and pulls her out of phasing in between ghosting and not.

“Thanks Wil!”

“Yeah, well, be careful next time.”

He playfully frowns and she pouts. They jokingly make grumpy faces at each other before laughing at each other. Shelby almost floats away with her laughter, but he manages to ground her. She surely was going to need some tips with ghosting. As a professional ghost, he’ll do his best.

Wilbur then looks down at her overall pockets. With a raised brow, he asks:

“Did you break any?”

Shelby pats her pockets with a little grin, sticking her tongue out after.

“Nope!”

“Okay good. We’re going to need all of these intact.”

They cackle at each other as they follow the other, heading up to Beau’s tower. The trip is mostly climbing up the mountain and popping up by her house, Wilbur going on ahead and making sure she isn’t home before giving Shelby a thumbs up.

She grins and pulls out some seeds, tossing them in a little train into the tower.

“Come on in! Chick- chick- chickens!”

Calling out in a sing-song tone to lure some nearby chickens all into the tower. Wilbur digs into his pockets and pulls out some eggs that had managed the trip safely. He begins to toss them at the tower, watching them crack and split open.

Broken yolks and runny whites drip down the windowpanes, sticking to the cracks of the cobblestone and wooden logs.

He can’t help but laugh as some of the chickens Shelby is helping move in get startled from random drops of egg flying on them and run around. Shells get stuck everywhere and it’s all fun and games as Shelby closes the door with the tower now full of chickens. She hands him some more speckled eggs with a grin.

Wilbur lets her toss an egg and she laughs.

There’s a familiar ringing that leaves him with an effortless grin.

Both of their hands immediately meet when they high five. A well resounding slap and a satisfying sting marked their triumph over the Avians.

"Let's go. Our work here is done."

Shelby can't help but giggle, covering her mouth. Her giggles are always a smile, her teeth popping out when she does. The way her head moves as she can't help but laugh and fade away, all of it is quite recognizable for Wilbur.

She follows after him as they fly around, their phantom forms fading in the daylight and shimmering back to a see-through form in the shadows.

Two fading forms chasing each other, spirits sprinting through the grass and mountain range. Shelby almost falling off and Wilbur pulling her back, laughing and spinning around. Reeling from the light heartedness of it all. They swing each other around, a false sort of dancing. Laughing until their stomachs could ache, tears that could form out of their eyes if they weren’t dead. It could all never be enough, maybe it would have felt better if they both were alive.

It's a brilliant thing, having a friend that follows you wherever. Doing whatever without a care in the world. There’s a sweetness to an afterlife that leaves a sour taste in the mouth.

But it feels better when they both make it to the shade of a tree, sitting down in the shade. They're both sitting down in the branches of a giant oak, blooming catkins hanging off in bunches. Scattered sunlight filtering through the shadows of the leaves protects them from the burning sun.

A tranquil view of the world around them, a silent breeze as sounds of life reminds them that the world isn't ever truly undisturbed. Even if it's just for a moment, there’s a life that’s itching all around them. Cicadas' songs, a roll of sunlight, the crumble of earth and the movement of the branches above. There’s a silent agreement to relax under the shade of the oak tree, to breathe a little. Their lungs don’t expand but their false breathing is shallow and calm.

Shelby is sitting right next to him as he extends his body a bit, stretching his hands out. She’s looking over at him and at his scars, taking peeks but not saying anything. He couldn’t help but chuckle at her expression of surprise when she got caught.

“You want to see them?”

“Yeah… How’d you get them?”

“Probably some flying accidents when I was younger.”

“Sounds fun.”

Wilbur laughs at her and she sputters, trying to correct herself before pouting. Giving him a grumpy frown as she continues, holding onto his hand. Tracing around scars and calluses, the occasional birthmark. It’s a feeling like no other, the feeling of human touch. There’s a comfort in having these small touches, the smoothness of a hand with the subtle warmth to cool fingers. Something about having the warm comforting touches helped him feel, unlike before.

Before when there wasn’t a sense of touch at all.

As a phantom, the sense of touch had become so numb. Nothing feels like anything anymore and it hasn’t for a very long time. The touch that was there had most certainly faded away with time alone in the afterlife. Tree bark felt solid and not like bark should with its rough, splintering texture. Rocks felt like a solid, no bumpy or sharp pressure. The worst was water. It didn’t feel wet or cold or refreshing. It just felt like a moving void, empty and suffocating.

Up until Shelby arrived, he hadn’t felt the touch of a person in a very long time. His hands would phase through someone’s body when they go for a handshake, he’s had a hard time feeling real as a phantom.

So when Shubble first arrived and he felt the surprising touch of a hand, he immediately freaked out. That was only a sign that he was real. A phantom, but at least he was a real ghost.

He looks at their hands, a tender feeling creeping in. Her hand feels real. Not just a solid, empty object. But real.

Shelby felt like a human.

Her hands feel like human hands.

Shelby is real.

She lets out a gasp, a sudden thought flying through her head as she lets go of his hand.

“Wait here!”

With that she fades into the ground, phasing in and out of reality as she darts off to her house.

He ends up looking at his hands for a few minutes. Looking up at the tree above him, watching the leaves move. The branches rustle with the wind and the occasional tassel of a catkin falls.

Shelby pops out of the corner of his eyes not even a moment later, a small box in her hands. She’s grinning with a look of determination as she sits down, crossing her legs and motions for him to hand over his hands.

He’s quite compliant when it comes to Shelby asking politely. She’s one of the few people he can tolerate here, so he does.

“What did you get?”

“You’ll see…”

Her tone is teasing and pink as she opens the little box. It’s completely full of band-aids. What was he expecting?

“You know we don’t need those.”

“I know! I just thought it would be fun.”

“Where did you even get them from?”

“I don’t really remember. I just found them, so I decided to keep them!”

Her pleased expression spreads around, leaving him smiling as well.

There are many colorful band-aids, some of them had swirling patterns and others were solid bricks of color. She pulls out a kaleidoscope of band-aids, just a handful of them and places them on her lap.

Picking from that handful, she peels back band-aids and places them on his hand. Smoothing out the wrinkles carefully. She’s making sure that she doesn’t place them on his hand wrinkly so that they don’t curl off quickly.

She covers the scars and scratches, wrapping around some calluses and cuts, covering them all with a vibrant band-aid. His hands are covered in a short rainbow of colors, squiggly designs and adorable bandages that wrap around his fingers, knuckles, palm, and the back of his hand.

He stretches his hand a little, but he stays quite still so that Shelby has an easier time placing each one all over each of his hands. There was a moment he was holding an invisible breath that he didn’t have, just so that she’d have an easier time wrapping them around his hands. Minimizing his fidgeting with his hands as she starts on the other hand, satisfied with her work on his left.

A tune never left her lips, although he could hear her hum a familiar melody. Wilbur’s not completely sure where he knows it from. He hums along to the tune that itches the back of his mind. Everything about this leaves a familiar warmth that he can’t place. Birds call, the plants breathe. The world feels at peace.

A part of him had missed this, this that he didn’t remember.

Being around someone who wasn’t a solid emptiness, someone alive that he could feel. Someone that he wouldn’t phase through, someone that could stay with him as he was.

“Done. What do you think?”

He smiles as he stretches his hand, flexing it and looking at all the mirage of bandages. They’ll probably all fall off soon, but for the moment…

“I love it. But Shelby?”

“Yes Wilbur?”

“You missed a spot.”

“Huh? Where?!”

Wilbur chuckles.

She watches as he motions to a scratch on her leg. Her face beams as she unwraps another bandage and carefully places it on her leg.

Tangerine in color, it covers up most of the faint scratch on her leg.

It looks pleasant.

“Now we’re matching!”

“As if we weren’t already.”

“And?”

If I had to choose your happiness over mine, I would

Cause you’re so misunderstood and I know that all too good

Persistent eyes move to watch his every move. Currently, he was working on making a bigger batch of potions for his shop without much of a break. He didn't really think he needed it.

Meanwhile, Shelby is across the room. Propping up her body with her arms as she watches Wilbur with an intense stare.

He doesn’t really mind it. She’s doing her thing and currently waiting quietly and not really bothering him while he’s writing down calculations for some of his potions for his shop. She on the other hand was already halfway done with her own science. The science of baking. The crackle from the furnace doesn’t bother Wilbur, he smiles when he breathes in.

There’s a scent of allspice, clove, cinnamon and nutmeg wafting through the air. She’s taken up an interest in baking after becoming a phantom. It might have started from the hunger of being a phantom, always being hungry. Maybe she was always hungry in her past. Maybe they both were.

There’s something about her always wanting to try different kinds of foods, always excited to make food and cook it. She’s probably just really hungry.

They share the similarity of passion for the things they do, even if it’s almost a complete polar opposite of the other.

Pumpkin smells stronger than dandelions and sunflowers.

It floods her nostrils as she watches Wilbur furrow his brows, his focus expression looks so close to being a disgruntled frown. From afar he looks cold or distant.

A pop and a fizz, a puff of smoke that’s almost scentless.

He resembles a grumpy cat.

Shelby snickers and he glances up at her. She’s curled up on her seat, swinging her legs about. A tender expression as she looks at him and points at her brows. He seems to realize that he’s scrunched up and tries to loosen his expression.

It takes a moment for Wilbur to just breathe and focus on something that isn’t his work. He rubs his temples before observing her get up, rushing over to the furnace and pulling out a pumpkin pie with her hands. She’s panicking a bit from the illusion of a burn. It doesn’t burn her as the sun should. He hears her groan from her foolishness. She bumps her head against the table in consequence but it just phases through and she screams silently.

He snickers at her shenanigans, and she immediately looks over at him. He covers it up with a cough, trying to be nonchalant about it all.

“I saw that.”

“Saw what?”

It’s a petulant silence, one where the other doesn’t know how to interpret the others' reaction. It’s a beat of silence.

Shelby gives him a jokingly grouchy face before bonking her head on the table.

“Bonk.”

“Bonk!”

It’s a loose air, Wilbur no longer keeping up an agitated air about him. He was never actually upset, if he was then he would have said something. She just really wanted to see him smile a bit after working himself a little too hard.

“Do you wanna take a break?”

He doesn’t say anything, already immersed back into his work. Potion work was serious business. Shelby sighs loudly, throwing herself back in her stool as she pleases, stretched out.

Wilbur stays focused on his work, letting it bubble and marking notes down for future reference.

“Wilbur.”

“Shelby.”

“You need to take a break.”

“The pie’s finished cooling.”

He snickers as she quickly turns over to the oven before remembering that she took the pie out. She grumbles, mocking him. It’s when he hears her slice the pie, suddenly feeling hungry. He spins around to look at her, eyes wide as he looks at the pie and then back at her. Sarcastically grumbling, his body language rough and choppy as he floats over. Watching as she cuts the pie and places a slice next to him.

“I’m only coming over because I’m hungry,”

“Sure you are, Mister I’m so grumpy and busy with work.”

“Shubble!”

“Wilbur!”

“That’s not- okay, so it is true. But I am not grumpy.”

“I know you aren't.”

He slouches, biting into his slice. Wilbur’s frown on his face dissolves, melts away and leaves a mellow expression. There’s a peaceful air about him now as he appreciates the slice of pie.

Shelby joins in and takes her slice, chewing blissfully.

Pumpkin pie was a peaceful dessert.

Peace like this couldn't be found anywhere else.

Wheat fields moved peacefully, the endless valleys of wheat billowing in the breeze.

Shelby wasn't outside working at the moment.

At the moment, she was inside her small cottage kitchen. She had been pacing earlier, panicking by the window.

The window of the cottage on the farm wasn’t large. In fact, it barely brought any sunlight in. She didn’t really need the light at the moment to see the blood that had stained her shirt. Her fingertips grip at the edges before deciding to quickly change out of it, rushing up the stairs.

She feels a sharp agonizing pain torment her body as she falls against the stairs, clutching it tightly. Coughing up red into her shirt, wheezing and attempting to control her breathing.

It takes a minute.

It might have taken two.

She’s breathing a bit better, although it’s a bit heavier.

Pulling herself up, Shelby walks into her room carefully and changes out of her shirt.

She'll need to wash her clothes again.

There's just too much blood.

It stains too easily.

Walking downstairs a bit more carefully so as to not fall again, she looks at the kitchen table and impulsively decides to clean all of it. She covers her mouth with a cloth rag, tying it to the back of her head and cleans everything up.

Even if there isn't blood on it, she cleans. She cleans until she feels like she's about to cough, takes a break to control her breathing and continues cleaning.

Cleaning doesn't give her the time to think about things.

About how she's getting sicker.

How no one is around for miles.

How no one will notice when she's gone.

Thinking about things like that is not helping.

Shelby sits down exasperated, tearing off the cloth mask. The room is clean but her thoughts are a mess. She's only going to get sicker, there isn't a cure for her sickness at the moment. It's just going to get worse and worse.

No one is going to be around for miles, everyone thought it was contagious, so they left her here. Everyone was everyone, including her family. She's alone for miles, the only thing keeping her company is the wheat fields and the sky.

Glancing towards the window, a familiar speck on the horizon takes her out of all her thoughts. Every single one of them evaporated as soon as she saw the figure flying closer and closer. She slams her hands on the table, getting up rushes outside. The door closes harshly, rattling the house but she doesn't care.

She covers her eyes from the sun, looking at the horizon and sees him. He's flying way better now. She's waving him down excitedly, brightly grinning.

Whenever she's with him, Shelby doesn't feel sick.

She yells out his name when he's in close enough range.

"WILBUR!!!"

It aches to scream, but scream she does.

"SHELBY!”

He screams back to her, the widest smile on his face.

Wilbur’s flying had gotten better but his landings still needed working on. He crashes into her, embracing her tightly in a hug.

All Shelby can hear is their laughter.

It flies away, dandelion seeds.

When I look at you I see someone wishing that they could

Touch the stars someday, somewhere that time withstood

Saffron yellow wheat is being cut down by firm hands. Bright cerulean blue skies are endless, there isn’t a cloud in the sky. Sweltering summer heat bites the back of their necks, sweat dripping down their faces. Lashes wet and salty, wiped away with the back of their hands.

It's a harsh summer day with most of the day being full of chores. Chores that aren't really his but he does anyway. Wilbur carries the load of work so that Shelby doesn't strain herself. He carries the small bundles of hay, tying them up with twine and keeping an eye on her hands. She shouldn't have to carry the burden of survival on her own. Shelby had playfully fought back, a firm but grateful look on her face as she slowly handed them to him.

She couldn’t even do both anymore.

Shelby’s hands are red from the heat of a high noon day. Peonies in her palms, rose colored sharpness from how tight she’s gripping the sickle. She’ll have to till the land and keep up the continuous work. There's a cardamom on the tip of his tongue. A sharpness that turns sour, the pallet of citrus bitters never completely leaves his tongue. There’s a quiver of a question stuck and it's all cardamom.

Why would he ask a question he already knows the answer to?

He’s seen the blood-soaked handkerchief. By accident at first, but he’s found more with purpose. In the dining table, wood gravings with dusty dried blood or a cleaning rag sitting in the sink. Dirty water can’t completely clean the stains that are on them. The dirty handkerchief she dropped went unnoticed by her, but not Wilbur. He picks it up and she can no longer deny the nearly dry stains of coppery crimson.

“Shelby.”

She turns around with a grin, stopping her work. She’s sweating hard under the sun, a bandana holding her hair back, but it still sticks to her face. If he wasn’t looking hard enough, he wouldn’t have seen the trembling of her hands. He extends his hand out, holding the handkerchief.

Shelby looks it over, her eyebrows raised with shock.

She knows now.

She has to know.

He knows.

They both don’t say anything as she takes it back, placing it in her overall pockets again. It’s a minute of silence as she continues her work. Silence can be incredibly loud when it wants to, a meticulous slice couldn’t even cut the tense air. Thick with heat and sweat.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

He’s lying through his teeth. There isn’t a “no problem.” Because there is. There is a problem.

Shelby is dying.

Shelby is dying and there isn’t anything he can do.

All Wilbur can do is watch. She’s sick and her sickness is only getting worse. Even through sickness, Shelby doesn’t stop living without smiling. The plants that surround her reach out for her touch, running her hands across each of them. She mumbles words, speaking in silent whispers to the plants she just comes across. It’s all nonsense, but it’s her nonsense.

Her smile is radiant in the golden hour. It never truly reaches her eyes. Not when she’s around here. Not when she has said repeatedly that she can’t stand it here. She wants to see the world. The sea, the skies, the snow, the stars. He’ll take her so she can see it all.

A few years ago, they planted mammoth sunflowers all around her house. That day it was raining. It never rains hard enough to be worried about in the dry wheat fields, but that day it was harder than any other. They had to wait for the rain to clear up and the dirt was completely muddy. Soaked shoes and dirty hands planted little seeds that would grow above their heads. They threw some around the wheat fields for good measure.

"Maybe these sunflowers would even grow in the field."

They had hoped for something that wouldn't be the same fields of wheat. Sunflowers now surround her house on a golden blue day. Sunflowers that reached the sky, sunflowers that were as tall as Wilbur, in fact even taller still. Some even grew in the wheat fields; Shelby just didn't mind it. It was something else other than the warm grains. Watching them grow throughout the visits, and only a few months they had reached extreme heights. Green calamity grew in the yellow normality.

Something new grew in the deep sea of wheat fields. Giant mammoth sunflowers, their rough green stalks surround the house, spread far and wide in between hills of rolling wheat. Burning in the sun, the flowers flourish with each word and fill up an ache in the heart. A soft roll of light, a careful idolization of the sun tans the skin. It’s no longer just the same grass that grows every day. Hills that stretch for miles might have more sunflowers than they’ve ever seen. It isn’t enough to just have sunflowers break up the norm.

He knows Shelby wants more. So much more than barely surviving off medication and bread. Plain meals, plain living. The plain daily repetition for the rest of her entire life isn’t enough for her.

There's an everlasting nebula of stars that swirl in the cup of the universe. It spills on the mantle of the sky. Every drop, every stain, every wish of a dying star awaits exploration.

Her hands have reached out for them, but they slip back down to the solid form of earth. If only she could take a leap of faith into the unknowing universe.

Shelby deserves to touch the stars.

Then maybe she could dance on the moon.

Maybe she’ll let him join in.

I just want

You in front of me

Even if it means

I’ll burn inside your reach

It was a strain to open her eyes this morning. The weight of her eyelids, the labor it took to just breathe. An intense chain of coughing into her blankets, hands already smudged themselves ruddy with rust.

Today was going to be the last day she woke up.

She was sure of it.

She had already come to terms with this, so she’ll do her best to make sure that this last day will be the day where she can complete uncompleted wishes while she’s alive. It’s a day where she gets to choose. It’s a day where she bakes a pumpkin pie for herself. She watches it rise and cool, a day where she eats pie.

No wonder Wilbur likes it so much.

The pie is sweet and soft, spiced and warm. It's a great comfort that leaves a sore ache in her heart. She’s sniffling at this point, wiping her eyes quickly and looking up at the ceiling. She cannot allow herself to cry, but there is a panic that comes with trying to accept that you’re dying today. At the very least she isn’t dying alone, hopefully. The truth is on the edge of her teeth, underneath her tongue. Shelby can’t will herself to say it right now.

She’s dressed comfortably as she waits for Wilbur on the porch of her cottage home. The sturdy walls and strong foundation have lasted her long throughout the years. This was all there was. Blue skies, yellow wheat and herself today.

The last day went as other days do. With time moving too slow and too fast. A cool day, refreshing that it’s almost freeing. Rolling up her sleeves, she could feel the cool air against her skin. Closing her eyes, all she can hear is silence.

Opening her eyes to the sound of heavy flapping, she sees Wilbur. He looks over at her with a grin, but his eyes tell another story. He’s clearly worried, but there’s nothing he can do about it.

“Wilbur!”

“Shelby! How are you doing?”

“Good… Can I ask you something?”

He’s silent, watching her from his standing position. Too far, but he’s just on edge.

“Of course.”

“Let’s go to the mountains.”

His feathers immediately ruffled and she couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Are you sure? I don’t think it would be safe.”

“I know… but if it’s the last thing that I can see, then I want to see the snow.”

Wilbur looks over at her with soft eyes, tender and wide. He probably has an inkling of what is currently going on, but there’s a shrivel of hope that he doesn’t completely know about today.

“You want to go to the mountains.”

“Yeah.”

He breathes in, a slight pause as he thinks. She’s panicking thinking that maybe she’ll have to go alone. Sighing out, he nods.

“Let’s go.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah, come on.”

Shelby immediately gets up and follows after him, excitedly. For a few minutes, it’s a little bit of walking across the acres of grain in silence and watching the skies stretch.

It's too quiet for a death day.

“Do you want me to carry you?”

“I don’t want to bug you-”

“No, I kind of always wanted to take you flying.”

“Wait- you’re saying I could touch the clouds!”

Wilbur laughs and nods.

“Yeah, yeah. So, is that a yes?”

“Of course!”

It’s a moment of preparation. Wilbur bracing himself to carry the both of them, telling her the rules and what to do so he does not drop her. Shelby excitedly rambling all her thoughts out, how she’s always wanted to know how it was to fly, what would it feel like to fly, would it be like falling on the stairs or jumping? An endless jump across the sky? To fly away, blowing away the tufts of dandelion seeds into the next life.

“I’m going to pick you up now, you ready?”

“Yes!”

He picks her up, adjusting her and she holds on. It’s only a moment before his massive tawny wings spread out. It’s a running start, across the fields. Trampling the wheat without a care left as they slowly lift off. It takes a while to get some air and to get higher. An azure blue sky awaits them as they begin to soar.

Flying is a feeling like no other.

First is the rush of adrenaline, burning through her veins. Bursting trails of dandelion seeds that fly up behind them. Following the drop of the stomach with each low dive, rising back up again as the fields below become too small to see. The rollercoaster of emotions running off the tracks, bursting into evanescent bubbles that pop in the stratosphere.

Ears ring with their laughter and the deafening wind, but it is not loud enough to mute Shelby’s screams of pure joy. Ecstasy, as one of her dreams comes to life all around her. Soaring across the skies with the help of Wilbur, cutting through pastel fuzz clouds and amber blue skies. Breathing in the vapors that trap their hairs, dewdrop locks of hair and leaving their heads damp.

Wilbur is trying to say something over the wind, but Shelby can’t hear a word he’s saying. The wind is far too loud, their laughter even louder. Reverberates through their ribs and leaves their lungs raw.

Shelby reaches out, stretching her hand out to touch a cloud. Wilbur gets louder with the words he can’t say, but she can tell he’s worried. She doesn’t care as she feels the cloud, a surprise shower of giggles escaping her lips.

Her hands have finally touched a cloud.

She’s pulling her hand back when Wilbur sighs. It was all fun and games as she looked down. To say that she would be terrified would be an understatement. That’s if she was scared of heights. There isn’t any visibility on the ground anymore until they dip down and she can see that the wheat fields escaped them, faded away into fresh grass. Different types of trees and deep valleys, long rivers that reach past her vision. There’s so much more than just the mountain and the sea, places that she has gained the urge to experience. More places to see, to explore.

Shelby can’t believe she’s dying today.

It doesn’t take much more time to arrive at their destination. They arrive on the mountains after crossing a light drizzle into a mountain range. The drizzle turned into a gentle snowfall. There’s snow all around them. At Wilbur’s feet, it crunches. His wings shake off the snow, looking down at Shelby.

“I’m going to put you down now.”

“Okay.”

Shelby is careful with her footing. Her feet crush the fresh fallen snow softly, eyes wide as she looks around. There’s spruce and pine all around them, all covered in snow. The snow isn’t sparse either, plenty of it flies around them.

The world is incredibly silent. For miles on the mountains, there’s no one.

Nothing is around them, arches of snow as they walk around. In the faint sunlight hidden behind the clouds, it glitters. White snow refracting light glows all around them. The silence is incredibly loud as they walk around the mountains together. Shelby is currently freezing; it is most definitely freezing but she doesn’t care at all.

She had been so busy with her attempts to survive life that there hadn’t been a moment to do the things that she had wanted to do. Today was full of everything she wanted to do and it burned. It burns that she cannot do anything after today, but today is necessary. The heartache is necessary.

Watching her breath fog, pulling on branches and watching the snow fall on top of Wilbur. Running away laughing, as he chases after her. She doesn’t have to see an eyesore of yellow anymore, she can see only their sweaters in the snow. The sun sets through the clouds, barely seen in a peaceful gray world.

She had hoped that this lasted forever.

It all fell apart rather quickly when Shelby was hit with a coughing fit.

They had a few earlier on the mountains, they weren’t as notable to mention because as soon as they happened, they’d forget about it. This one was wrecking. Shelby had collapsed onto the snow, clutching at her chest, trying to breathe. It was physically painful trying to breathe in icy breaths, inhaling cold mist that froze her insides.

She probably shouldn’t have forgotten the blood.

At least the snow looks beautiful with bloodstains.

She can hear Wilbur’s panic, the ruffling of his feathers as he knelt beside her, patting her back. He’s going to be so sad.

“Shelby! Shelby, Shubble, please… Can you get up? Shelby! Look at me, please?”

Shelby looks back up at Wilbur, smiling. There’s blood in her teeth that she wipes away and shakes her head.

“I don’t think I can Wilbur.”

He’s at a loss for words, and she can see him as she lies on the snow. This could be a nice way to die…

“SHELBY! Shelby, look at me- Shubble. Please, please don’t die.”

She cracks open her eyes, peering up at him. There’s a little grin on her face, as she tries lightening up the mood, the occasional shuddering cough wracking her body.

“Hi Wil.”

“Please, can you get up? Or maybe I can carry you back. Phil! Phil can help.”

“Don’t. Wil please. It was heavy enough the first time. To carry the both of us… I don’t think we can do that again.”

“I don’t want you to die here.”

She’s looking down now, fidgeting with her hands. Attempting to sit up, Wilbur swoops down and helps her instantly. Her breathing is rough and ragged, she’s wheezing. But she still lies through her teeth.

“It’s okay, okay? It’s going to be fine. Hey, give me your hand.”

He follows without hesitating, handing over his hands. Her hands are so cold that they burn, freezing and his are mildly warm. Her hands begin to trace band-aids that have been placed recently, band-aids that had fallen and old scars. Birthmarks and old injuries that had faded away with the passage of time.

“Shelby? Please, we need to go.”

“Can you tell me the stories of this one Wil?”

The worry he was feeling freezes as he watches her smile up at him. They hadn’t done this in years, probably since they were teens.

“Shelby…”

“Please Wilbur?”

He nods silently and begins to list off things from the top of his head. How he hurt himself while helping Tommy to learn how to fly. How he’s so proud of his little brother for doing his best, how he got cut by Technoblade in a practice battle, and how good he is at fighting. How he’s so impressed by his older brother. That he’s burned himself from making potions, how he’s been making the medicine for Shelby on his own now. How he’s been helping her the best he can. In his little rant of his stories, he feels something in his hand. There’s a petal in his hand. She tells him that she’s so grateful for his help in keeping her alive, how ‘no wonder I’ve been feeling better with my medicine.’

It’s yellow.

Wilbur is trying not to cry; his eyes are red rimmed and watery. All he feels is the stupidity of feeling soft. He can’t just lose a friend so easily. Shelby can’t just die like this; she can’t just not be there tomorrow.

“I’m going to lose you, aren’t I?”

She nods.

“I’m gonna miss you Wil.”

“Me too, me too.”

She’s shaking from the cold; it might also be from the fear.

“Don’t go.”

“I’m still going to be there.”

“Not really.”

“I’ll do my gosh darn best then.”

They’re both crying at this point, wiping their own tears away. Wilbur curses under his breath and Shelby’s giggles are faint at this point, but it’s still there.

He’s going to miss this.

Or maybe he could change this.

Wilbur could change this.

A few months back while Wilbur was working on Shelby’s potions, trying to figure out what could help her more, he had questions. What would benefit her lifespan, what could help her? Digging around Philza’s library he had found a book by accident. The details were strange, but he had managed to translate it well enough to understand it. There wasn’t enough information on how, but ghosts roam when they have a reason to stay. Usually, the vengeance of dying, or trying to figure out who or what or why they died. If he gave Shelby a good enough reason, any reason to become a ghost then maybe she can stay.

There were moments where he wanted to tell her. That there are ways she can stay on this world longer. That she could stay with him like this. He knows that it’s wrong to not tell her this.

He can’t just lose her.

Not like this. Not to her sickness.

Shelby didn’t even notice him pull out the dagger.

He’s going to regret this.

In a swift movement, he stabbed her in the gut.

She didn’t even scream, her eyes widened. Awake and startled. Her breathing that was once shallow, was now strained as she looked down and back up at Wilbur.

What was he doing?

“What-”

“I’m so sorry- I

-This will all make sense later- I-

Forgive me later. Please.”

“No? I- I won’t-

Wil… Why?”

He doesn’t really know why he did this. Why did he ever think that this was a good idea?

Tears are falling freely from both of their eyes.

Shelby’s just trying to wipe away her tears that are freely falling now.

She’s coughing up blood, her entire body trembling as she’s clutching at her wounds. Stained fingers wipe at frosting, glassy eyes. Refusing to let go of his hand, the weapon firm in her gut. She makes sure that he hears her words, trying to stay alive. She doesn’t let him let go of the weapon or his hand on the weapon. She doesn’t give him a chance to escape or let go.

“No- Shelby-”

“No Wilbur Soot! You are going to listen, you idiot. You stole my death from me! You took one of the things I finally had control over- and -and-

Wilbur, I don’t want to die. I really don’t.”

She wanted to live too.

But there’s blood stains on the snow.

A dagger in her abdomen and the scent of betrayal in the air.

A desperate look in her eyes, glaring.

He’s never really seen Shelby mad at him.

She was furious.

“Wilbur, I hope you regret killing me. And don’t you dare regret or feel ashamed for it! You chose this! I didn’t! I wanted to live Wil… I wanted to live too.”

Shelby’s crying gets weaker and weaker, she flimsily hits him over and over again.

“You killed me Wil, I want to live. I choose to live, so I should have chosen to die.”

Her movements get slower as she gets colder and colder. She’s sniffling as the blood leaves her; she can’t even feel pain anymore. It’s far too cold.

She’s far too tired to do anything.

Her body slowly dies.

Let me take you far away

[take you far away]

Shelby had died slowly.

It was all his fault too; she wouldn’t let him forget it.

His hands are burning from the cold, his pockets are heavy with regret and a single sunflower petal. The taste in his mouth is bitter.

He still has a job left to do. Burying her body. There is no such thing as a small task when it comes to carrying the burden of burying the body. He had to dig deep enough to where she would be completely buried and not a patch of her showing left.

The snow was pink with bloodstains and his hands ached. A band-aid from his palm fell into the snow. He kicks it further into the snow. If he thinks hard enough, he buried it with her.

Maybe she’ll accept that as a token of forgiveness.

Wilbur doesn’t have enough time to bury the dagger, to clean his fingernails from the dirt and grass he’d ripped up. It’s nightfall and he has to go back home.

He stretches out his wings and shakes off the snow. His body feels heavier than before, and his eyes burn. But he gets a running start off the mountain, and leaps. Diving off, down- down. His wings expand before he hits the ground and flies away into the recently fallen night sky

The stars don’t feel as good when he doesn’t have a person to share the sky with.

Maybe he should have let himself fall.

When he arrives back home, the world feels silent. It feels empty, he feels empty. Why does he feel so empty inside?

“What’s wrong kiddo?”

Wilbur looks up at Phil from afar. Philza doesn’t question the blood stains on his clothes, the dirt under his hands, but his red-rimmed eyes. The fact that his eyes are watering, and he hasn’t stopped tearing up since he buried Shelby.

It was all his fault.

This is the kind of heartbreak he’d only really experience with death. The feeling of realizing that she can't ever come back. He'll never get to see her smile again or feel her hands. It's the regret of not doing more with her.

It’s the regret of killing her when he didn’t need to.

He took away her choice.

She had chosen to die that day and he took that choice away.

He can't even feel himself sob anymore. Wilbur couldn't keep his promise. All he could feel was his tears and the sharp pang of the emptiness in his chest was heavy. At some point, Philza held him in a hug. He still feels nothing in the place where his heart should be. Clutching at it, he wants to tear out his heart at this point.

Shelby is gone.

He can't do anything to fix this. His regrets start to gnaw at him.

"Let's see all of the world! Together."

Shelby puffs out a little breath, there's a deep sadness in her posture. She hides it all with a smile that barely reaches her eyes.

Sticking out a pinky finger they make a promise.

She'll only live in his memories, the twinkling of a dying star.

Now he has to say goodbye to his best friend, a sunflower.

The sunflower he had ripped out of the earth with his bare hands.

The sunflower that he chose to kill.

Maybe he's not a dandelion.

His flower should be forget-me-nots.

You can say, what you want, but i know

You’re afraid of being left all alone

But I'll be, by your side, through your lows

Just don’t let me go

Their ghostly meetings haven’t really been meetings for shenanigans recently.

Granted it has started as that. Meetings to plan pranks against all the other non-ghosts, but then it slowly just happened to merge into just the both of them hanging out with each other in their free time.

Shelby’s sitting on a barrel, swinging her little legs and eating the snacks that they had both put the time into making. Little cookies, pieces of fish, carrots and potatoes, pieces of pie. All tasty little things that fill her up from the phantom hunger.

They had met in his attic since it was far too sunny to hang out outside in their little alleyway, so they opted for Wilbur's attic. It’s refreshing, sitting on the barrels and watching the other.

Wilbur had been oddly quiet today.

It might have been his contemplative nature, but there was just something about today that had got him thinking. He wasn't laughing or planning any schemes, he was just so deep into thinking that it was borderline worrying. His thoughts were unnerving, hiding deep within him. He wasn’t even saying anything.

"Wilbur?"

He hums a bit, looking up at her.

Okay, now it was time to be a little bit worried. Especially when he doesn't respond with her name or a bonk, or even a tease. Nothing about her ‘working as hard as a worker bee when she's dead’ and how ‘she doesn't really need to worry about living things anymore.’ She just does and always has been, and now she works with things she wants to.

Though now she’s working on why Wilbur isn’t speaking.

"Are you okay?"

He nods, walking around the room. It's more of a pacing around, footsteps creaking on the wood. There’s something that feels like it’s an anxious twang. Maybe he is anxious?

"Wilbur… are you nervous?"

He stops moving, not briskly as if he was held back. More of a slowed down to a stop when he turns around to look at her. He shakes his head for a no, and just motions at her.

Shelby nods and gets up.

"Uhh… okay?"

He says nothing, just wrings his hands after and continues pacing. So, he wasn’t nervous. It must be under a different category with a nervous movement.

"You're not nervous… you're scared."

That's when he stops abruptly and turns to her. Oh, she really did hit the nail on the head. But of what? What could the phantom of Wilbur Soot be scared of?

"Wilbur what could you be scared… of. Oh. You're scared… of me?"

He had pointed at Shelby, motioning about things she didn't really quite catch on about. It's all frantic motions that end up with his clutching onto his hands and wringing them.

"Do you want me to go?"

"No."

Wilbur spoke one word today. He barely said anything since she offered to come over. That confused her a bit. How is he scared of her, but also he doesn't want her to go. It gets pieced together rather quickly.

He was afraid of being left all alone.

Her eyes widened a bit at the realization, and Shelby Shubble now knew that he was scared. He feared being alone without another ghost, someone else that could see him, someone that wouldn't just leave.

He doesn’t want to be alone again.

"I won't leave you then."

There are things he can't remember in his memories for sure. Solid things like what happened to him, events and scenarios. He can remember the feelings he had felt before dying, feelings towards people he had met in life.

The first time he met Shelby, he was met with a wave of regret and surprise. Something like, "I'm sorry," and "Don't go," crossed his mind. He wasn’t sure where it came from, how his emotions connected with his living life. All he knows is that feeling was strong.

He just doesn't want to lose anyone, but in particular, he doesn't want to lose Shelby, a fellow ghost. Being the only ghost here at the beginning really did take a toll on him. His loneliness was just spreading everywhere but he managed to hide it well enough. It burned his fingers in the day when he was in the shade.

Wilbur hadn't noticed that Shelby had asked him if he was okay, but he did hear the next question.

"Do you want a hug?"

Wilbur nods automatically as Shelby hugs him. It's a normal hug with her, patting his back. It's nicer than any hug he's received in a while. Hugs with those who are alive has always been troublesome. They never felt like real hugs, just empty. Like they were solid but not human. Not real.

Shelby felt real.

Even when she was a ghost, her hug felt warm. Her touch isn't solid or cold. He can feel the texture of her sweater and how warm she is. Her touch is human. He holds onto it tightly. She's a ghost too but he can feel that she's here on the same world as him. She’s in the same realm as him.

He can finally hug his friend.

There's something completely overwhelming about all of this. He can feel where tears should be in his eyes, they don't fall. He doesn’t completely understand what he’s feeling. If he’s sad, if there’s something that he should pin-point exactly. He doesn't think he ever cried before even in his lifetime, but he's overjoyed.

Yes, they are rivals. But before that, they are friends.

Wilbur hopes that he never lets go.

He can't lose another friend.

He can't lose Shelby again.

If everything is fine

Then why, do you sound broken

It’s not like you to hide

Your thoughts feel so unspoken

“I’m fine Wilbur.”

Shelby has been getting sicker.

It isn’t either of their faults that the medicine hasn’t been as effective. No matter how much time has passed Shelby isn’t going to be cured miraculously out of nowhere. She is not going to get better because there isn’t a stable cure for her.

He’s seen her collapse into coughing fits, her hands stained with dirt and blood. Her hands are never clean, rough with work. How she rushes back into the house to wash away the smudges down the sink and watch them go down the drain. Sometimes, she’d just collapse and struggle to breathe, Wilbur would have to help her up and take her down to the porch for a break. To finally let her rest after days of work.

“Really, I'm just swell.”

Shelby is withering away.

Today they chose to meet in the shade of the oak tree. Like all those years ago, the scenery is the same. A small difference was of the sunflowers. They were a welcomed change, dandelions growing at the base of the stalks. The sea of grains melts into the horizon, a boring view. Shelby is sitting right next to him watching his twitchy movements, his leg tapping against the ground.

There's the physical struggle where he cannot make himself calm down when he has all this knowledge. Knowing Shelby is going to die, there’s nothing they can reasonably do. Anxiety swallows him and there isn’t an exit. The world is going to stay the same and Shelby is going to die. He’s drowning.

Wilbur’s struggling to breathe, struggling to stay calm.

He breaks down.

A dying machine heart leaks oil as he’s trying to maintain composure around Shelby. The invisible ticking clock counting down the seconds he has left with her; it rings loudly in his ears. Screaming that the time is up, nobody will be left with him in death.

Shelby will be gone.

He can hear Shelby say words, sitting right next to him and making sure she gives him space. If he focuses hard enough, he can hear her attempts to calm him down. The worst part is that it’s working. She just knows how to calm him down, even when he should be the one helping her. He can feel his breathing, his senses warm. He can feel his fingers and wings. He can just feel that he’s okay and he hates that Shelby Shubble can just do that with ease.

“You shouldn’t be doing that.”

“What do you mean by that, Wilbur?”

“You know what I mean.”

Shelby nods, quietly. There’s a soft humming as she sways against him. A tepid breeze blows, she closes her eyes and sighs. Something about Shelby is calming when she leans against him. His feathers rustle and he can’t help but follow suit. They lean against each other and breathe. It’s a lovely day today. He holds her with a wing, and they listen to the world move. The cotton of clouds unfurls across the skies, stretching across the blue.

“Are you okay?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Yeah… Look, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t. Shelby, look. Don’t you dare apologize for dying.”

There’s a slight huff from Shelby, nodding. He can see her try to think of words to say before groaning and running a hand through her hair. She’s upset, there’s no words she can think of to say. She pulls her hair before shouting.

“What am I supposed to say? That this is the inevitable and I already thought about dying? Wilbur, I already accepted that. I’m going to die…”

The coat of denial melts.

“But is it wrong to say that I’m scared? I’m scared of dying. I am so scared that I am going to die tomorrow, or in a week and I am going to die alone in the night when you’re not here.”

The truth burns him.

“Wil, I’m going to die.”

All he can do is listen. What’s he supposed to respond with? That she is going to get better, shockingly wake up the next day and completely be healed? There’s nothing to say when your best friend says that they’re going to die.

“All I can do is say that it’s going to be okay. It’s okay if the last days I have are good ones. If my last days on this world are happy ones with you, then maybe I can move on? What do you think?”

She chuckles weakly.

Wilbur thinks that she’s lying.

Shelby wants to live with a burning passion. A passion that could tear the sun out of the skies and crush it in her palms. It could be scalding; it could burn her, and she’d still do it if she were to be given the opportunity to live.

She regrets it all, not choosing to live as she wanted to. For the rest of her days, she continued the same chores throughout her entire life. Take care of the fields. Make bread. Clean the cottage. There’s a hatred for her illness, if she didn’t have it then maybe she could have done more. If she wasn’t in that cycle of pain and sick, then maybe she could have explored the world. Maybe she could have lived a normal life around people. She could have eaten something more than bread; she had a hunger to see something other than wheat. Maybe she could have done something with her life.

She hates that she was sick, that she wasn’t living to her fullest. She loathes it. Why didn’t she just eat pies and cakes and run all around the world? Why did she try extending her sad life to something longer when she could have done what she wanted to? Why did she feel the need to shackle herself to staying alive?

Shelby wants to be free.

The urge to rip out the grass and scream to the top of her lungs, “I WANT TO LIVE!” would be freeing. Would it really be freeing, if she begged to the sky for her life to be spared. She already lived far longer than she was supposed to die. Months longer, years longer… as of now, she should have died.

Wilbur had done the best he could.

The world turns pink, melts into orange, yellow dips and burns into a darker shade of blue. There’s a sun slowly setting on the horizon. Nothing is left for them to do but wait out death. Making up for it, they could live the best lives that they can.

Stars peek out from the corner of the skies as they watch the sun fall over them.

Just let me be your sign

Take my hand and let’s just drive

Somewhere the stars all collide

Through the night just you and I

The stars above scatter across the night, the moon illuminating two ghostly figures. Both with matching yellow sweaters, one with a carved goofy pumpkin over her head. They walked alongside the other, passing around the mountain range path. Deep dark swirls of faded colors, stars that burn off-white colors, constellations overhead.

Both enjoy the peace as they float around, following after the other. It’s quiet at night most of the time. No one bothers waking up at this hour. Deep at night, when there isn’t anyone around, is the time when phantoms are awake. No one but the ghosts that desire to explore the world, their steps against the dirt path are the only thing making noise currently. There’s a life that is only awake in the dead of night, and that life is two ghosts. Two phantoms that decided that spending the night walking together would be much more fun than sleeping. Watching the stars slowly move across the sky.

“Shelby?”

The pumpkin turns, a goofy face looking back. Shelby had found that a pumpkin was a bit more comforting on days when she was feeling a little bit down. Especially on days when she didn’t want to feel seen by the living. Peeking at him, she stares quietly. It’s a little unsettling really.

“Is there anything you want to do tonight?”

She’s still, not a word coming out of her head. At this point, Shelby had stopped following him.

Wilbur turns over to look at her. Her hands are moving, fumbling around and trying to come up with something to just say. He didn’t ask a question that would be too deep. Maybe she was deep in her head and swimming in a pool of thoughts. It might have to do with her urges when she was alive, unable to remember what she wanted to do.

“I want to see the world.”

Her face is obscured by the pumpkin, but her body movements are not. There was something off about her movements. He can’t put his finger on it. She’s dawdling about, flitting her hand around her, swaying. Her feet rock back and forth, kicking into the dirt as she keeps a single eye on Wilbur. The pumpkin is a little scary with a single goofy eye staring into his soul.

“Okay, well… One thing at a time, alright? Why don’t we do something that we can do in one night?”

“Well, what do you suppose we should do?”

It’s bitten back but snappy, a little offense taken. Shelby hasn’t really been snappy recently at all, so he’s not sure when this happened or if he did something wrong that would spur something like this. He’s calmer than her, an eyebrow raised.

“Do you want to go to the beach?”

The way that her bitty nature erupts into excitement, walking around with a little swing in her step isn’t shocking at all. She perked up from the moody tone. He could almost see her smile through the pumpkin. There is still something off about her today, but he’ll excuse it for excitement.

The trip to the beach lasted a few hours into the nightfall. They run around each other, phasing around trees and being cautious with Shelby’s pumpkin so that it doesn’t fall into the ground. They make sure that she doesn’t crash into a tree or a creeper. Passing by trees and valleys; hopping over small streams and leaping over rivers. Striding across the valley, they are chasing after each other’s tails.

Sand reaches their feet and Shelby runs.

Wilbur chases after her.

She digs her feet across the dunes, a few feet before the coastline. The beach is peaceful at night, a deep dark sea crashing peacefully. Waves rocking against the other, seafoam rising and falling back into the water. Gravel banks trapped with kelp and seaweed, crushed incomplete seashells litter the beach. The ocean feels alive. Breathing with the tide, groaning with each step they take.

Wilbur watches Shelby freeze on the sand. She’s frozen in time, watching the dark horizon. The sea, illuminated only by the moon. A black mass with only the stars glowing across the rippling ocean. She slowly starts to shake. He reaches a hand out, confused until he hears a sob leave her mouth. He immediately stops, surprised.

Shelby was crying on the beach.

Her body, flickering. Phantom tears never there but the way her body wracked as she let out a gut-wrenching cry to the sea must have been painful. She’s fallen into a crouch, trying to hide away from Wilbur. He doesn’t have anything to do. There is nothing to say. No words leave his mouth as he watches Shelby wail.

He remembers standing next to her, letting her have her time to herself. She doesn’t stop. Her goofy little pumpkin that she grips tightly on her head, her palms would have turned red and white with how hard she was holding onto it if she was still alive.

It's only when she tears off her pumpkin, tossing it on the sand and hugs herself tightly is when he gets down with her and holds her into a hug. She screams, sobbing harder when he pats her back. She’s gripping at herself in a way that would hurt if she was alive.. He doesn't know why, but he's hurt and happy with her.

It's a bittersweet cadmium yellow.

Sniffing and swallowing heavy breaths, she takes a while to calm down. Everything felt so heavy when she was weeping as she did. Wiping away tears that did not exist, Shelby turns to Wilbur. A cracking ache as she hugged him. Her voice breaks in a whisper.

“I’m sorry…”

He doesn’t say anything, just pats her back. Giving him a squeeze before letting go. They both sit on the beach, watching the moon rise over nighttime waves. The sound of gentle lapping of the sea against the sand calms her down.

“Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.”

“I’m just- I don’t know why, but I’m really happy. I feel… overwhelmed, I guess? This is just, so much to take in.”

Her breaths are sharp and uneven, they cut the air when she’s trying to calm down. She isn’t crying anymore, but she’s still shaking. Except from sadness, she’s excited. There’s a satisfying feeling in getting to see Shelby happy. She can’t dig her toes in the sand or feel the grainy texture very well and she can’t feel the cool air against her skin.

The stars hang above, a pearlescent moon glistening above them. The collection of stars against dark waves. The reflection ripples of the waves, the strong scent of salty air against her face still doesn’t let the smile leave her face.

Shelby finally made it to the beach.

Just you and I

Just you and I

Just you and I

Just you and I

It’s just the both of them on the beach.

Shelby had calmed down enough to enjoy the beach for all it had to offer, though she refused to get up from her spot. She had firmly sat herself down in the sand, watching where the horizon met the sea. Wilbur stayed by her side, joining her in basking in the rolls of the night breeze. A dark abyssal night, reaching out and blanketing them. The spots through the blanket of night shine, stars glimmering up above. The sky shines. Shallow whispers of the sea call out to the both of them, a voice neither understands completely. That doesn’t mean it stops calling.

The urge to stand up is immense and Wilbur stands up, brushing off invisible particles of sand. He turns to Shelby, who is watching him from her seat with curious eyes. There’s not a drop of sadness left, but blooming interest in his next move.

“Shubble.”

“Yes, Wilbur Soot?”

He thinks for a moment, unsure what to do. Watching out for a sign from the sea, it leaves nothing but what it already had to offer. He could feel the time pass against his skin, the reflection of the moon calling. There’s a single thought that begins racing alone. It spurs a sentence that spirals out of control, exploding off his vocal cords.

“Do you want to dance on the moon?”

Shelby giggles, raising a brow. It’s not what she was expecting at all, the gears attempting to turn in her head. There’s a clear confusion and amusement with what he asked. She’s not a hundred percent sure where he’s going with this, but she’s certainly curious.

“How?”

“Can I take your hand?”

They meet each other’s eyes, grinning. There’s no way to be sure what will happen in the next moments, if Wilbur really will show Shelby how to dance on the moon or if it’s just a complete joke or ruse.

With common sense, there is no feasible way for the both of them to arrive on the moon to dance.

Without it, there’s a burning that can only be satisfied with a dance.

“Of course.”

Wilbur pulls her up by her hands. He leads her over to the beach shore. Moments of walking across the sand, gravelly banks of kelp and on broken seashell shores. They walk into the water, ankles deep. Water lapping at their legs, they pause for a moment. Looking at Shelby, he watches her. He lets go of their hands and taps her shoulder.

“Tag.”

He takes a running start across the coast, sprinting around. Turning on his heels to see Shelby, her eyes wide with shock.

“WILBUR SOOT! THAT’S CHEATING!”

“IT’S NOT!”

They sprint around, chasing the other relentlessly. Shelby uses her hands, dipping them into the ocean and splashing him. It splashes him and he yells back at her, howling with laughter. It splashes all around them with every step that they take. Attempts to calm Shelby down are futile, so he’s left to dodge her attacks. Water kicking up with sand, splashing all around with every step they take.

“Shelby, Shelby- Truce?”

“Never!”

He throws his head back with laughter, his pause to laugh opens him up for the opportunity for her to tag his arm back.

“Fine, fine- you won; now can I show you?”

She rolls her eyes playfully, standing still.

“Yeah- sure.”

He extends a hand again, this time without a motive of betrayal.

She takes it and it’s calm for a moment.

They breathe.

He swings her arms around, following no exact pattern of rhythm except the one in his head. Shelby swings along with him, moving to her own rhythm. Their dancing slowly becomes nonsensical when he spins her with a hand, and she lets go.

There’s something about this that feels right.

She jumps into the sea, leaping and kicks up the seaspray. Swinging her arms whichever way, laughing with surprise. Her version of dancing is doing whatever she pleases, moving as she wants. Spinning in circles and stopping, dancing to the invisible call of the sea. Shelby is her own entity, enjoying swaying, whirling around the sea as it splashes all around her.

She feels free.

Wilbur moves on his own, joining her around and dancing on his own. His rhythm is more methodical than Shelby’s. She was following her doing whatever attitude without a single care in the world. He follows a melody of jumping around, kicking the sea, swinging to the songs in his head. Doing whatever he feels, whatever he wants. There’s a warmth that he would feel if he had been a warm, fleshy body. His phantom lungs expand.

He finally feels like he can breathe.

They swirl around the other in the messiest form of dance. A sea of mist rising with each step they take. It doesn’t matter if they are kicking at sandbanks or running through shallow waves, tossing water at the other. They make up their own rules of dance without any laws. Dances that don’t make sense to anyone but themselves. They’re dancing with each other in the sea, the salt spraying all about.

Warm hands meet each other, spinning each other around, swinging all for fun. Stumbling and tripping into the sea, only to pop back up a moment later. Pulling the other back, trying to not fall through into the void underneath the dark ocean.

They’re both laughing when Wilbur glances across the sea and yells out in excitement. Shelby follows his gaze and screams with him. The reflection of the moon is under their feet and stretching across the sea. It’s not a hundred percent perfect, nor does it need to be. What matters is that they’re now with the stars in the sky. As above their head stardust meets so far below, splashing against their feet.

Dancing in the nebulas and cosmos, this moment feels full of life. Twirling on the water, they laugh into the late-night sky. It’s not a challenge, but it is freeing to laugh at the stars.

The togetherness that came with this was thrilling.

Living between stars never felt so good.

Dancing on the moon has never felt so freeing.

It’s late into the night and early in the morning when they have to rush back home. Birds call into the twilight while Shelby carries the pumpkin in her arms, running with Wilbur back to the mountain ranges that they called home with all the others.

Across fields and in between forests that span farther than their eyes can see. The world around them is silent when it’s just the two of them laughing.

Two ghosts that were both alone, no longer have to feel that loneliness.

All they wanted was a friend.

Now they met their counterpart.

Dandelions and sunflowers sway in the breeze when they run past.

I don’t care if we can’t find our way back home

As long as you’re with me, we can leave, all we’ve known

Shelby's never sat on the roof of her own home.

Granted, it was far too dangerous to head up there alone. Well in case she fell, Wilbur could catch her before she hit the ground. If she was that lucky for him to reach her in time before she fell. Would that really be a better fate than slowly succumbing to her illness? Maybe she’d just stop feeling anything at all when her body fell, a nothingness.

She should stop thinking about dying.

“Where would you want to go if you could go anywhere?”

Wilbur asked the question while she was half asleep. They were both basking in the twilight on the roof as the world slowly fell asleep. The moment where they can’t talk over the invisible marker of too loud, or they’d wake up the world. Voices reaching at a whisper, hushed thoughts and silence as the stars slowly get brighter in the sky.

“Anywhere. Everywhere. Just the world.”

“Just the world?”

“Just the world.”

It’s a tender moment, where they both don’t know what to say in response. All thoughts melt under the presence of stars. There’s nothing to say when all they can feel is a nightly breeze. Words that they didn’t know they had spilled out of their mouths in an endless conversation.

“I want to see the world with you too.”

“Even though there’s going to be an end?”

“Yeah.”

There’s no way she can believe him even when he tells the truth.

“We won’t have enough time.”

“Don’t care.”

“I could die, Wilbur.”

Tender conversations were fragile, the cracks slipping through. Wilbur turns to look at Shelby, and they can barely see the other in the darkness. He knows. He knows that she could die and at every moment she’s hurting. She knows that already. That doesn’t mean he’s going to stop being her friend or leave. But she doesn’t want to believe it.

“I know.”

He can hear her voice shake, but her face is firm. She’s trying to deter him, there were times where she’s attempted to do this before. There’s nothing that he can say other than to let her speak. Even though he has a wall of words to say.

“I just- I don’t have enough time left. I thought… I thought I was going to die last year. There was a moment where it felt like: ‘this was it. I am going to die,’ But it didn’t happen. It only means that I might die next month, or the month after that. Any day I could just crumple up- give up. Die alone or in the night.”

Wilbur didn’t know that before. That she could have been dead long before, when he wasn’t here. If he came to a body and not a friend, he doesn’t know what would have happened. He just doesn’t want to lose her. Other than his brothers and dad, there isn’t really anyone he could call his friend that was as close as he was to Shelby. His siblings don’t really count, they’re siblings.

He needs her to stay somehow

“That doesn’t mean I’m not grateful, I’m so happy. I’ve never been happier to be alive.”

Her feelings pop, evanescent bubbles that disperse between conversations. Raw truth splits the roof she lies on and it burns. All because she’s alive. She’s still alive and has some hope for life.

“I’m going to regret it all. I wish I could have seen the sea. The snow. Forests with flowers and bees, towns. I would kill to eat anything that isn’t bread if it wasn’t going to ruin me. I want to eat what I want to eat, do things where I wouldn’t have to worry about my condition.”

“Shubble- what do you really want to do? I’ll help you.”

The question startles her mindset. What does she want to do? There’s nothing that really comes to mind. Her thoughts are empty, nothing but the urge to explore the world. Run into the sea, play in the snow, touch the clouds. All of those things were wishes.

“I’ll help you do one thing that you want to do. Before you die.”

He’s shaking a little. She can barely see it, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there. He’s nervous because he’s going to lose her. There aren’t any words she can say to calm him down. Denial will only worsen the blow.

“Wilbur, you don’t have to.”

“Well, I want to. I want to spend time with you. I still want to stay friends.”

Her eyes widen and her smile is hurting. He still wants to be her friend even when she’s dead... Goodness, she’s going to hate dying, isn’t she? All she can do is lower her head and nod.

Tensions melt away slowly. There’s nothing they can do about a conversation like this. It was bound to happen eventually. Stars flicker above, a twinkling. Soft glowing as they both watch the stars.

Life isn’t long enough to enjoy this.

Hopefully they can stay friends with each other forever.

Just you and I, together

Chasing through the night

Together

“Shelby!”

“Wilbur!”

She had been sitting under a tree, twirling a dwarf sunflower on its stem. Tucking it behind her ear when he arrives at her tree. Basking in the shade, enjoying the refreshing breeze. When she looks at him, she can immediately tell that he’s been planning a fishing trip down by the lake. An arm holds up an umbrella, shielding him from the sun. The other holds a pair of fishing rods, a fishing box under his arms.

“Do you want some shade?”

“Of course!”

He leans the umbrella over and she runs over, giggling. She offers a hand to hold the fishing rods and the box. He hands them over to her, surrendering them so that he has a better grasp on the umbrella.

“Would you.. like to go fishing with me?”

Her eyes light up excitedly.

“Yeah!”

Wilbur offers an arm to her, and they link arms excitedly. He begins talking about fishing, his thoughts jumbled around, crashing excitedly and spilling out of his brain. All he can talk about is his hobby. Shelby nods, listening intently.

“Oh!”

“Yes, Shelby Shubble?”

“Would you like a flower?”

Wilbur jokingly thinks for far too long than he should have, watching her reaction of skipping eagerly becomes a mopey downcast pout. He laughs loudly, and nods. She hands over a sunspot and he tucks it behind his ear.

“Well now we match.”

Two ghosts walk together down a path, they’re in a world of their own. Laughing at their little jokes, quips as they follow the other, kicking up dirt. Red and white stripes cover their heads, protecting them from the sun that could burn up their skin. It’s a brilliant day to go fishing.

They use the umbrella to help protect their skin and head down the cliffs to the lake. They’re careful as to not fall off, leaping down and making sure they both have solid footing.

Wilbur’s fishing spot is undisturbed as he sets up the umbrella. Shelby stretches, turning around before going invisible. She didn’t bring her pumpkin with her so now he really has no clue where she went. He shrugs and begins to organize the fishing box, getting his fishing rod ready. He reels and casts a line. The bobber lands with a plop, and he watches as he sits down on edge. The water gleams with sunlight, clear and bright. It ripples as he waits for a bite/

He sees the flowers in Shelby’s hands before he sees her face. An array of pink, blue, white and yellow. Tiny pink tulips, little blue orchids, lilies of the valley, daisies and dandelions. Handfuls of carefully picked flowers that are placed down in a little pile.

She’s visible again, casting her line and sitting down. She begins attempting to make a flower crown. Wilbur picks up a dandelion and looks over at Shelby.

“Shelby… these are weeds.”

“These. Are dandelions.”

“It’s a weed.”

“It’s a flower!”

“Weed.”

“Well, I'm not listening to you!”

Wilbur checks the rods, snickering. He makes sure to keep an eye on them while Shelby works on her little crowns. Her legs swing off the deck, swaying back and forth. It’s a pleasant summer, a gentle breeze, a quaint day.

Something about this feels good. To be fishing with a friend, with someone. Even spending time with a friend, enjoying what you have together is great. It feels like a completed goal, satisfying warmth. Maybe this was a goal when he was alive. To fish with someone or even just spend time with them.

Shelby hands him a completed flower crown and he wears it with pride. She wears one of her own. It looks good on her, complimenting her bow. There’s a bobber dipping into the water and moving. They both reach out and struggle on the line, panicking at the fact that they were completely caught off guard. The fish leaps out of the water and it’s a beautiful sight to see. Glistening scales and water spray.

Bubbling excitement as they cheer and give each other a high five. It has never felt like a better day than today. All these simple moments wouldn’t have been if they didn’t have each other. They wouldn’t change this moment for the world.

Neither remember their death.

It might be for the best if they both don’t know how they got here.

Two friends that managed to meet again in death, ghosts together.