*Wilfre's POV*
After the rumbles in the distance faded to a silence, Wilfre knew it was safe to emerge from the fortress.
He couldn't see much in the distance, so he climbed into the boat and set sail for the village, feeling a twinge of guilt.
That twinge of guilt, he convinced himself, was not brought about because he had left Lyn to be caught in the blast. He knew she had to have been. Almost immediately after taking off from the shoreline of what was now truly a wasteland, the smoke and soot was clearly there.
No, he felt no guilt for something he had no choice but to go through with. He had saved himself, just as Lyn had begged him to do. Unlike a senseless bloke, he had known from the icy chill her hand acquired that she was gone. That there was nothing left to do but grant her last wish. He had saved himself. Not an injury had been gotten.
Well… I stand corrected. There was one, and it was the pain he had chosen to take in order for Lyn to be happy, wherever she was now.
As the boat nudged against the village's shore, Wilfre worked up the courage to look to the spot where Lyn had died. There was nothing there but blackened grass and insipid ash. She was gone. Her body must have been blown into the vast ocean somewhere, he presumed.
As he climbed out of the boat, he was instantly greeted by Jowee, who was carrying… a heart made out of wood?
"Hello, Wilfre," he said, setting the heart down by Lyn's death spot. "…Listen, I must apologize again. For everything."
"Don't bother," Wilfre sighed sadly. "I'm the one who must apologize at the moment. You and I… we all had it so well here. We were a happy village. Then, I simply got the idea that I knew would change things for the better. I'm sorry I brought your previous Mayor's life to an end. I'm sorry I kidnapped Heather. I'm sorry I took away all of the color for a while there. I'm the one who owes you everything. I guess I just… went a little overboard."
"We forgive you, Wilfre," Jowee reassured him as they walked further into the blackened village. "We realize… it wasn't entirely your choice. Those blasted shadows drove a lot of your senseless acts of terror. And now, they got to the Creator and killed her. I hope it never happens to anyone else."
"Me too," Wilfre nodded.
The village was suddenly bustling with conversation. Most of them had at least 1 tool in their hand. From somewhere within the crowd, Mari spoke.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she announced. "We're happy to report that everyone made it through the blast safe and sound." A few cheers accompanied this. "Now, I say that if we work hard enough, getting everything back to normal should be a breeze! What do you say, everyone? Let's get to work!"
At that, everyone cheered and went their separate ways.
Every 3 Raposa seemed to be in charge of building one building. Jowee, Mari, and Wilfre worked together on the Creation Hall that day. With every hammer stroke Wilfre made, he knew that everything was coming back together. Not only the village, but most of his life.
Most of it.
Night fell quickly, but the Raposa had been working very hard that day. By the time the moon rose directly overhead, only a few more paint strokes needed to be made before, exteriorly, everything was back to where and what it was before.
When Jowee returned from somewhere with the Book of Life, Wilfre's heart began to ache. It dawned on him that he'd have to work hard to keep himself together. He'd have to work hard to hold his tears in.
Jowee entered the Creation Hall, then came back out, calling "Alright! The Book of Life is back where it belongs!"
"I'd like to add something," Mari announced. "This entire situation… not only with the Creator's demise, but the bitterness that we've held for many a year's time… has made us realize that we need to allow more input from our honest citizens on what comes to life from the power which previously belonged to Lyn, the Creator. While we can't let anyone just draw in it, I propose that anyone who wants some sort of creation should come to me first. If it would be a positive addition to the village, I'll be more than willing to draw it!"
Wilfre smiled as everyone cheered again. This was what he had wanted all along.
Why was it, then, that that smile only lasted for a few seconds? Because he had to give up so much. His communication with the village? Inconvenient, yet he didn't see it nearly as relevant. His reputation? Who, in his situation, would care? Just that one last thing he had to sacrifice… that last thing was the one thing that couldn't go unnoticed.
And all but that last thing was either well or returned to him.
All was well but that last thing he had to give up.
That night, Jowee stopped Wilfre as he was walking up to the Creation Hall.
"Listen," he said. "You can have a place here at the village. One of the villagers moved away, and he was more than grateful to offer you his place, rebuilt!"
"Oh, thank you," Wilfre replied gratefully. "…My fortress back at the wasteland only holds darkness. Darkness, memories, and wicked dreams."
Jowee didn't seem to understand, but that didn't really matter to Wilfre.
Later that night found him at his new home.
He realized that his Ultimate Creation was nowhere to be found. Just the pure grief that Lyn's perishing had brought to him had him completely forgetting about it. Its remains were probably scattered about the ocean as well.
And he was perfectly okay with that. That cursed thing held unnecessary darkness as well. It held part of what he wanted to put behind him.
As he looked up at the moon, all that he had done so well to evict from himself came rushing back. Pure grief. Grief for that one thing he had to give up for all this peace.
Lyn.
He soon found bitter, wet tears leaking from his eyes. There wasn't a thing he cared to do about it, for he knew it would pass with time.
This bout of it, that is. He had lost Lyn to get all this. Since Lyn had turned into a Raposa, he had fallen in a discreet, yet deep love with her. Before, he merely wanted the other Raposa to let him have his say, but since he met Lyn, he plotted against them because they had wronged her. He was bitterly angry at them all after learning that they had taken complete advantage of her. With every minute they had spent together, he dreamt of living his life with her by his side. Ruling as king and queen over life. Having her to hold, kiss, and all that other romantic stuff.
They had danced under the same moonlight that shone into his window at this very moment.
Why hadn't he thought to confess his everlasting love for her before the very moment that he'd lose her forever?!
Three knocks were made on his door. He walked over to the door and opened it, seeing that Jowee was standing there.
"Hey, buddy," said Jowee. "I'm not usually one to say things like this, but… I think you need a sweetheart."
At this, Wilfre's grief swelled within him. He gulped the sobs back into his system, but over seconds of time, that became more and more difficult.
"I'm pretty sure I heard that someone around here likes you," Jowee continued. "What do you say we look around tomorrow?"
Wilfre replied "The offer is very thoughtful of you… but…"
At this, all of that grief was no longer possible to hold back. He walked over to the middle of his living room, fell to the floor, became a gray heap of sadness, and sobbed.
"I couldn't," he cried as Jowee walked up to him. "I-I'm not sure I could ever love anyone else! Lyn was my soulmate! I knew she was the one for me the very minute I had met her in person! The very minute we were able to abolish all rivalries with each other! I love her with all my heart, Jowee. I always will…"
"I see," Jowee nodded. "Her death has hit all of us hard. We're grateful for everything she's done for us."
"I just want her back, Jowee," Wilfre sobbed. "I'd do anything to have her back. Only then would everything be perfect…"
Jowee spent the entire night coaxing Wilfre out of tears. It took until the morning twilight for him to do so.
The next day was spent placing Lyn's memorial. That wooden heart was perched precariously on the very spot where Lyn had perished… ironically because of Jowee. Ironically? No?
Many flowers rested by that heart, the biggest bouquet resting in the center of it all, having been put together by Wilfre.
Every night, he would never forget to visit the memorial and try to communicate with Lyn somehow. He'd say something along the lines of this.
"Lyn? It's me, Wilfre. I love you, always have, and always will. I dreamt of spending my entire life with you. I'd kill to have you back. That is… if that's what it takes. Everything's healed within me. My soul, my sanity… everything but my heart. This crack in my heart will always remain as long as you're gone. If you really can't return to me… I await the day I can return to you."
He never did return to his wasteland. Just as he had said, it only held poison darkness, broken dreams… and lies.
While his entire life was mostly happy, his heart never did heal. It never would until the moonlit night that his life came to an end, many years later.
Author's note: I know this seems a little selfish of me, but if everyone who made it to this chapter would tell me how An Unexpected Type of Fondness was for them… that would make my day. Well, then again, even one review would make me feel like this had any purpose, lying among what was left of this seemingly dead fandom. Well… that's it. My legacy will continue for you if you are a Sonic or Minecraft fan, but if not… ta ta, I guess.