Notes

It feels like years since you met him, but it could be centuries. Time doesn’t really seem to have meaning anymore, wherever here is. You don’t really feel too much anymore, but his hands are warm, and so is the wool from the little sheep that sleeps at the foot of your bed. You nuzzle your face deeper into his neck and his arm tugs you closer into him. Safe. Warm.

He is Ghostbur, he said as he walked out of the mist, sheep in tow. You didn’t know what your name was.

“Blue.” He said. “I like blue.” You were inclined to agree, because if he liked it, it had to be good.

So you were Blue. You spent the days wrapped up in thick sweaters, strolling through the mist that surrounded your harbor. You didn’t know how you knew that it was yours, but it was. You climbed up the grassy hill where the ground started to fade into mist and brushed grass with your fingertips, linked arms as you ambled down the little brick path by the sea, sat on the beach with your feet in the water and Friend’s head on your lap.

And then you were his. After a while it was more than his head on your shoulder, after a while it was just you and him and he was one of few sensations in this gray world.

It wasn’t sad before he came. It wasn’t anything before. You were just happier with him. Happy with his chin on your head, staring at the salty waves. Happy with the gentle sound of Friend’s munching in the grass. And it was perfect.

He told you stories, stories about far realms and other people and things beyond the harbor. You never tried to leave the harbor, but you never realized there was a beyond. You didn’t need a beyond, with him. It was simple and easy like playing with the ends of his sweater sleeves in the grass.

Together, you had made a sweater for you, as well. It was blue, of course. Any other color would have been foolish to even suggest. His kisses were like strawberries, his hands were like the sun. He was sweet, and he was yours just as much as you were his.

One day, you were taking your usual walk along the path when something felt horribly wrong. And for the first time since you could remember- you felt scared.

So you clung onto his sweater and he kissed you and everything was ok. And you went to the pasture, because that’s where you always go, right?

And the feeling faded, and so did the day.

And the nights were spent wrapped in his arms, wrapped in blankets and praises and murmurs of how pretty you were. His blue. All his and so pretty. His thumb running over your lips, his arms tugging you into him as if you were made of diamonds. You loved him. And it was simple, and easy, and true. You loved him.

Sometimes, the both of you forgot where you were going, and just turned around and went back home. Neither of you were particularly good at remembering things, but that was ok, because you had nowhere to be.

Just here in his lap buried in his chest as he softly read out a book while Friend sat next to the fire neither of you could feel. And you thought it was strange, how he was warm when everything else was-

Cold. So cold. So-

What were you saying? Ghostbur clutched your hair as you jumped, and you weren’t sure what you were scared of in the first place.

“What’s wrong, my blue?” he asked gently. “Is everything alright?” His voice calmed you down, it always did.

“I just- I don’t know. I got scared, Ghostbur.” You said. He pulled you into his chest, placing gentle kisses on your forehead.

“It’s alright, love. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, alright? ‘M yours. Forever.” He says softly. You breathe him in, and he smells like the grass of the harbor and the salt of the ocean.

You lose track of the days again before the feeling hits you again, and this time you start crying. The tears sizzle on your skin, And he clutches you to him as you cry into the yellow threads of his sweater. It… hurts. You forgot what it was like to hurt after so long. You breathe him in, take in every strand of hair and every smile and every breath just to remember what he feels like again. You may forget everything else, but you’ll never forget him.

You spend that night on the biggest of the ships, staring up with him at the stars as he points out the constellations one by one. You have to be on the big ship to look at the stars, or the mist gets in the way. You don’t really mind, as long as he’s with you. His fingers twine around yours, and you don’t really care what he’s saying, as long as you get to hear his voice. Something about cassiopeia and a throne in the sky, you think. You pull him in for another kiss. You’re hungry for it, like you want to lock his taste into your lips forever. You have forever, right?

You’re starting to get antsy. Flashes blur your vision sometimes, and you’re worried. You’re both worried. Worrying is something new, and it’s scary. That’s new too. Fear. You’ve felt joy, contentment, happiness, bliss. But never fear. Not here, at least. Though you can’t remember if there was ever a before.

Sometimes, he talks about people from outside. Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo, Quackity. Techno and Phil and a million other names you can’t really keep straight. His friends, he says. He’s confident they’ll come to join you, eventually. You’d be excited to meet them. He wants them to meet you, he says. They’ll be so happy here. Maybe the weather will clear up, he suggests excitedly. You get the feeling that isn’t going to happen, but maybe it’ll be nice if it does. You could use some sun. You don’t remember the sun. Why do you know it?

But he’s here and he’s warm and he’s so pretty and you settle back in between his arms where you belong, legs wrapped together under heavy woolen blankets, rocking softly in the ship. You’re struck with the irrational fear that he’ll be alone here, for a long time. And you’re scared to lose him, and you don’t want him to be sad.

He’s written you songs and sonnets, strummed out blue in notes on his beat-up guitar. You never bother keeping track of it, it always shows up when it needs to. The next night, he plays you your favorite one, humming words of cerulean sea and cerulean sky. It’s familiar and comforting and settles the aching in your chest because it’s him, and he’s all you need.

The next day you hear voices calling out, and you’re scared again. Ghostbur doesn’t hear them, just you. And you know in the pit of your stomach that you’ll have to leave soon.

So you don’t do anything different, not for a moment. You tell him with teary eyes, because you’re selfish and you can’t keep it all in. The days are tearful and bittersweet as you see flashes of color and start smelling sulfur and pain bristles occasionally throughout your body.

And he loves you, and he tells you he ill wait for you. However long it takes, he’ll never forget, not even for a moment.

“The eons will not change my love for you, my blue. No matter what happens, I will wait for you. And I have Friend to keep me company while I wait! I promise, I will never forget. Never.” He stares into your eyes with the utmost sincerity, and you just hold each other.

“I love you, Ghostbur.”

“I love you too, my blue.” He says. And it’s alright, for a moment.

You’ve said a thousand goodbyes already, but it’s never enough. You memorize every detail of his face, his hair, his hands, his chest. You memorize his songs and his voice and his love, because it’s your love, too.

You’re sitting on the meadow, nestled between his legs as you sift through the flowers, Friend’s wool carding through your hands. And this time, when the voices call you, you can’t go back.