Chapter 10: Past Twists and Turmoil

When Wirt arrived back at Greg's room later that day he found Jason Funderburker curled up next to his younger brother, fast asleep. The sight of them resting with such tranquility brought a sad smile to the older boy's lips, knowing just how much was in his hands. Not only did he risk himself by staying, Gregory and his precious frog's well-being were at stake as well.

The teen sighed as he stepped closer to them. Fate can be so unfair sometimes. But no one can change their fate, can they? Wirt left the question unanswered, although it gave him a spark of hope. Only a spark.

The gnome-dressed boy was now standing directly at Greg's bedside, the chair he had sat in earlier unconsciously forgotten. His brother's plump form appeared so small and fragile under the bedsheets, like a newborn bunny trying to crawl to his mother's side. It was as if every movement Wirt made could send Greg permanently into the depths of his mind's world, wherever that may be.

I hope he's happy, if he's still in there. At least Greg doesn't have to feel a millennium's worth of apprehension for what could happen or have the strain of those who worry about a future of darkness and being choked by the brambles of despair, Wirt mused solemnly, downcast. I suppose this is why the Woodsman kept the lantern lit for so long, thinking that it could save his daughter. I now understand his pain; it has become mine.

"Dearest brother," Wirt began softly, melancholy weighing his words down, "if you can hear me, I want you to know that the world is not only covered in snow. There are friends who care where we go and nevertheless the wind will blow. I feel lost and awful slow but still hope you have no woe. Your songs have filled my heart long ago, now I wonder if it's all a show. To you I've come to say 'hello', to you the sun gives its golden glow. Please hear me out as I bestow, to you, Greg, and it can never overflow."

The gnome-dressed boy stifled a sob, his vision blurred by unshed tears. I wrote that for you, Greg. I even made it rhyme. Won't you just wake up for me now? Can't you spread your sunshine into my life once more? Wirt clenched his fists by his side, enduring the torture that his compassion had brought down upon him. There will be nothing except the cold from now on. There is no one else for me to turn to when I need warmth. No one I can stay with, no one who can help me. I wish it could be different. I wish the Unknown was safe. I wish I could get Beatrice to come with us when we go home. I wish this whole mess weren't my fault.

The older boy lost himself to his sorrows, the ripping agony of his regret tearing into his soul. Liquid misery poured from his eyes in large amounts, his barrier of willpower unable to suppress its force. The heartache was unbearable. The shock. The suffering. The distress. His tribulation could not be eased by any amount of sympathizing, as one might find if they tried to walk in on his moment, for he was engulfed too deeply in his inner grief. In his eyes everything was at a standstill apart from his own thoughts and the light breathing of his brother.

"G-greg . . . Greg . . ." Wirt sobbed, letting the tears trickle down his face. "G-greg . . . I-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry . . ." He was trembling madly, his muscles weak from the stress and pain. Soon he found himself leaning on Greg's bed, his weeping head propped up by his elbows, face buried in his hands. "I'm so sorry . . ."

o-o-o-o

"Wirt. Get up, Wirt," Beatrice's voice echoed above him and Wirt distantly felt a hand shove him lightly in the back. "Stop sulking and stand up, you big pushover!"

The brown-haired teen lifted his head slowly, looking up at her with swollen eyes. He had cried until his tears had run out and his hyperventilating prevented him from getting the oxygen he needed to breathe. For the longest time he had bent down on Greg's bed and moped silently, the comfort of his brother's presence his only meaning of existence. Then Beatrice came and disturbed his brooding mood, alerting him of his surroundings once more.

"Stand up, Wirt."

It took another push for him to gather enough energy to move, but Wirt managed to stand on shaky legs. Everything felt empty inside. All feeling had drained out of him as his tears did; his mind was now blank and thoughtless save for a thick and heavy emotion that encompassed every sound and sight.

Beatrice frowned, her gaze searching his. He simply stared back without uttering a word, finding the need to wipe his face with his sleeve although the wetness was long-gone, dried up like the rest of his happiness.

"Are you alright now, Wirt?" she asked more softly, kindness peeking past her regularly rude demeanor. "You okay?"

Am I okay? Wirt questioned himself. Or am I only a burden? A useless, incapable hinderance that carries with it the heaviness of discomfort? Is there nothing more I can do for others, nothing more that I can do for myself? Am I but a leaf floating in the autumn winds, destined to be taken where the land desires? Can I not have a choice in life? Can I not fulfil my own promise to help those who deserve it? Because without that privilege, I am no one. I am nothing.

If there were any tears left in the boy, he would cry, but Wirt's previous scene deprived him of such a grandeur opportunity. Instead, he was left whimpering in front of the young lady, the cracked sound lacking volume. No, he was definitely not okay, and it didn't take much for Beatrice to see it.

Without a word of consolation or even a murmuring of pity, Wirt was taken up into his friend's arms and pulled into an embrace full of compassion and warmth. There wasn't time for the fifteen year-old boy to feel surprise or embarrassment, for his disquietness had already begun to fade in the serenity of it all. He begun to feel appreciated again; he felt the firm hold of cherishment caress him once more. The enormity of his sentiment was worth a flow of tears in itself.

As if the moment of relief would end at any second, Wirt returned the hug, biting back the sorrows that for some reason made a move to return. He tightened his grip around her and soon it all faded away, until there was but a silence in the room.

It gave him a chance to think.

Wait . . . Wirt realized with wide eyes, stiffening suddenly. Am I actually —

"Hey. You can get off of me, you know." Beatrice interrupted his reflection and the mortified teen jumped away abruptly, releasing his hold on her.

Wirt's face was bright red as he fought to recapture his dignity, "I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to . . . uh . . . it's not that . . ."

The former bluebird smirked lightly, finding amusement in how flustered he was. "It doesn't matter, Wirt," she told him, causing the male to stop stammering. "I got you back to normal, didn't I?"

"Well, I guess," he answered, rubbing the back of his neck. Wow. I can't believe I seriously did that . . . Great job, Wirt. That was amazing. She's probably going to think I'm a weirdo for the rest of her life.

Beatrice nonchalantly rolled her eyes. "Of course you do."

"Hey! What is that supposed to mean?" he huffed, just now noticing the green amphibian staring at them intelligently from on top of Greg's bed. Jason probably saw the entire thing . . . Wirt realized with a blush. Well. Not much to do about a frog, is there?

"Whatever, Wirt," the red-haired girl answered, playfully punching his arm. "Just come on and stop sulking in here. Greg will wake up when he's ready."

The brown-haired teen gave in with a sigh. "You're right, Beatrice. I suppose it wouldn't do much good if I spent all of my time waiting, anyway."

"Now you get it," she praised, hitting him hard in the same spot. "Just remember that and you'll never waste time again."

The gnome-dressed male involuntarily flinched at her attack, letting out a cry of protest. "Beatrice! Could you please stop clubbing me?" Wirt yelped, taking a few steps away from her. "Please? I have soft arms."

"'Soft arms', huh?" his friend snickered, watching Wirt's face turn a bright shade of red — for probably the thousandth time that evening. "Yeah, sure. I'll stop for now if you'll come to dinner. You already missed lunch."

"D-dinner? How long was I here?"

"Long enough," she shrugged. "Are you coming or not? I think we're having potatoes again."

"I'm coming." With one last glance at his sleeping brother, the boy headed out to his meal with Beatrice and her family, a thoughtful expression on his face.

He decided that if the endless winter did come and stick them indoors he wouldn't have any problem with it. Because with that came an opportunity that wasn't there before. With it came a newfound sense of pride and hope.

And all I need now is Greg . . . Wirt smirked, following Beatrice down the hall. Let the storm rage on . . .

x3 Heh. Small hints at Infinite Eyerolls here. This is not going to be a focus in the fanfic, I'm only adding it for a side-drama type thing. (Plus I think it's cute . . . ;3 )

Well, anyway, I think you got the Frozen reference, although I'm not making any action on doing a crossover. I just thought it would enhance the story, and plus, the main thing right now is the worry of an eternal winter. -cough- Get it? -cough- xD

Thanks to all of you who've read or reviewed my story! I really love every one of you for doing so! Make sure to tell me how you enjoyed it! ;) (And your hopes, if you're willing to share . . .) 'Til next time!