A panicked yell ran through the hallways.

Sat on a rusty bench, Wilbur opened brown eyes to see a train rushing by on the rails a few feet ahead of him. A few people gave him odd looks, although there weren't many people there to hear it in the first place. It felt like he either hadn't slept for three days, or he'd been asleep for thirteen.

Sat on the rails was a dove, hopping into the very centre of the concrete. A loud rushing noise didn't scare the bird away until a train rammed into the spot it had been sat before, and it shot away. Barely able to tell what was going on, Wilbur stood up and walked towards the doors. Stretching out a hand, he winced back. As soon as his hand entered the train, it felt like fire wrapped around his arm. Gripping his tingling fingers, he sat back on the bench. This would be a long time in a public train station.

---------- 3 years later ----------

"Your city gave me asthma..." Wilbur sang in the empty train station. 

Soon, too many people would arrive for him to make any noise. One thing he'd learnt, though, is that if he shut everyone else out, they couldn't hear or see him anyway. Putting on his headphones that he'd stolen from someone, the former president wrapped his arms around the railing, as he generally did when he was alone here. 

A few hours later, when people flooded the station, Wilbur sighed. This life of watching people getting on and off trains was boring and the endless hunger and tiredness didn't help. There was only one thing his crumbling brain could think of. Glancing around, he stretched out a leg and walked into the middle of the rails. Immediately, a person yelled something at him and a few bystanders stretched out their arms to drag him back. Screeching wheels and the smell of smoke smothered his senses as excruciating pain followed by darkness ensued.

Light flooded his sight as Wilbur sat up. He was sat on the bench he'd first appeared on. Blood trickled down his left hand. Multiple people were staring horrified at the train tracks as they slowly moved aboard the carriage. Slowly, a grin spread across his face. Even though it really hurt, he'd possibly found a way to cope with the time he'd be here.

---------- 10 years and 6 months later ----------

As usual, Wilbur stood by the barriers. Something felt odd, though. Occasional images of a somehow familiar smile flashed into his head. Tears formed in his eyes for no reason. People no longer glanced at him with a worried or confused gaze, instead completely ignoring that he was there. It was almost nice. 

When the train arrived, no-one scurried to get on board. No people stumbled through the doors. Instead, when they slipped open, a rather tall person in a green hoodie and ceramic mask stepped out. Dream. Being dragged by the collar was someone who resembled Wilbur quite a lot. Vibrant blue tears dripped down his cheeks and a huge, similar stain covered his chest.

"Please- Don't-" he murmured, trying to drag himself back onto the train.

Gripping the look-alike's arm, Dream chucked the crying man into the wall with an uncomfortable crack. Even though, over the years, Wilbur had lost all empathy, a small part of him shivered at the state of the other.

"So. Wilbur. Ignore Ghostbur. Follow me," grunted his former enemy, gesturing to the carriage.

"I can't go in there," he spat in reply, adjusting his hair and noticing for the first time in the reflective outside wall of the train that a large white streak tainted his pure brown locks.

"Just try, Wilbur."

Rolling his eyes, the now-over-forty-year-old stepped into the train. In surprise, he stumbled back and almost fell into Dream. "Wait, what about the other me though? Ghostbur, you called him?"

"There can't be two Wilburs in one world, dumbass. Now get ready."

With a click of his gloved fingers, the vehicle jerked into motion and everything turned a strange shade of red before fading slowly into darkness.

Cold rock pressed against his hands. When Wilbur glanced down, he was sat on a floor of lapis and gold. Feeling half asleep, he stood up and walked slowly over the glass floor. A familiar shape stood in front of him.

"Tommy!" 

"What- Wil- No, you can't be- What are you doing here?" replied the panicked teenager.

A slight streak of white covered the blonde's hair and an odd shaped scar lay on his neck.

"I'm back Tommy! I'm finally back! Oh, Tommy, I've waited THIRTEEN FUCKING YEARS FOR THIS! Oh! And look, the sun's rising. This... This is my sunrise, Tommy."

A blue sheep walked up, a nametag hanging from its collar saying "Friend".

"Who- Who the fuck's Friend?" laughed Wilbur, placing a hand upon the sheep's back before moving back.

Tommy sighed. He missed Ghostbur.