A/N: Someone made a review on Afteraffects inquiring about Greg, since I do briefly mention him having some troubles too, so this will crossover with that piece.
By the way my Headcanon ages are Wirt is 15 and Greg is 8.
I forgot to mention in the previous fic that Wirt is protective of Greg and has nightmares about losing him too. Now I got to write more.
I'm not sure I can write this happy child well but I'll give it a go.
DISCLAIMER: me no Own.
Like Oil And Molasses
Greg had changed since the Unknown, though not the same way as Wirt.
Wirt's thoughts on the matter were quite accurate - it was like a little kid who watched a cheesy horror movie, unaffected, until night fell and shadows lengthened and the thoughts the movie invoked filled his small self with terror.
Greg, truth be told, had been a little scared while traveling through The Unknown. He had been scared, yes, but not worried. He knew when push came to shove Wirt would help him, and although he knew his older brother had some problems, he knew his brother would eventually come around. So he trusted Wirt with his everything, whether it be heart or life. Wirt wasn't lashing out to hurt Greg's feelings, but because he himself was hurting.
So while fear lingered, (and it did), he wasn't as haunted as his older brother.
But . . . the times where he recalled the scary were more than frightening. If it got too cold (the frigid, wet kind of cold, like lake water or snow), he'd see Wirt lying still still still, or feeling grasping grabbing twining although he's so numb and c o l d. . .
But the good outweighed it enough; he could recognize bluebirds by sound, and remembered Uncle Endicott when he drank fancy icky tea, and he drew and made wonderful colorings (which Wirt said were very good, and that in time Greg would be a better artist than him, though he saw the little book Wirt wrote and sketched in about The Unknown, and his drawings were accurate in dark ink.)
He also talked about the Unknown, Wirt agreeing but not interjecting, and people would at least listen even though the eight-year-old knew they didn't believe him.
But it was okay, because Wirt believed him and supported him, and because there was good memories despite the scary ones, and when he did wake up with a nightmare Wirt would welcome him in the middle of the night and his brothers breathing that showed he was alive made it okay.
And when he looked up, up, up the tall Garden Wall on the way home from school, even if it made him think of the frightening tumble down, down, down into the water and The Unknown, he also remembered bluebirds and tea and singing songs of molasses and adventure-
And he would smile, 'cause that was okay too.
