fundy stood alone on the glass field that veiled what was once l’manburg. it was dark, the darkest corner of the server. no one visited anymore, no one wanted to think about the nation that had single-handedly corrupted the people of the server. no one cared enough to give the damn place a proper memorial.
sure, one could argue that he had helped cause its destruction, but his home had been gone long before l’manburg had blown up.
oddly enough, the mobs idling about the place seemed to ignore fundy. not bothering with more than a parting glance, they appeared to understand that they couldn’t do more to him than what he was already doing to himself. a skeleton and a zombie began fighting a few dozen blocks away. a stray arrow landed next to fundy, bouncing off the glass and skidding across the surface. fundy paid it no heed.
and so he stood, staring through the glass, reminiscing with nobody but the stars.
tilting his head to the sky, fundy tiredly watched the constellations twinkle between the obsidian grid that still remained, the constellations that he and his dad used to sneak out and gaze at together when the rest of the server was asleep. they had seemed so bright then, alive with the stories that his dad had told as fundy struggled to stay awake, giggling at the silly voices wilbur would put on as he pointed out each picture painted by pinpricks of light. they would lie in the grass next to the pond singing softly, until eventually fundy fell asleep and wilbur could carry him to bed.
now, with no dad to keep him company, to keep him safe, fundy weeped. hugging himself closely the way only he dared to, fundy grieved his broken family, broken life, broken self. what was left? what did he have, other than pity and scorn? he was broken, broken broken. that was what they had called him, ever since he was born.
dropping to his knees, fundy’s tears splashed on the glass, his pathetic wails floating through the air like a silk scarf. he didn’t care if someone heard. they wouldn’t come looking anyways.
staring down into the pits where the van used to be, white-hot fury blazed through him, a fierce thing that shoved the sadness away and snarled bitterly. why should he have to be sad? why wasn’t anyone else mourning the way he was? what had he done to deserve being torn apart and replaced, over and over until he could no longer be fixed?
fundy slammed a fist against the glass. it was thin — he could break it. he desperately hit the glass again and again, small veins beginning to splinter through the panes. still he cried, tears dripping off his muzzle and into the cracks, seeping through and falling in droplets into the abyss. the anger flared up once more and fundy grabbed the errant arrow, pounding the metal tip into the widening cracks.
soon there was a hole. it was only just wide enough for him to slip through if he really tried, but not without cutting himself on the jagged edges. the glass was sharp, tiny shards sprinkling down into the pit. they caught the moonlight, glistening like pseudo-stars.
he could jump. he could let himself fall, and hopefully die on impact. or maybe he would bleed out at the bottom, if the height wasn’t enough to kill him. fundy distantly wondered if anyone would look for his body.
whipping around, fundy saw eret and niki running towards him. he took a step backwards, heart dropping at the sight of the two people who might have cared.
“fundy, please! come over to us, it’s okay!” niki begged, both her and eret slowing to a halt a few feet away from him. he shook his head, stepping back again.
the glass was thin.
“fundy, listen to me. you’re not alone, you never have been. you have us, and we aren’t going to leave you.” eret took off their sunglasses, their white eyes wide. they extended a hand to fundy, their expression so painfully earnest that he almost wanted to take it.
the glass was oh so very thin.
“eret, it’s going to break,” niki whispered, hands over her mouth in fear. she thought he couldn’t hear. he always heard.
“i’m sorry,” fundy mumbled, hating the way both niki and eret’s faces morphed into pure terror as he took another step. this time, the glass didn’t hold.
he saw their hands reaching for him, their silhouettes against the moon-lit sky from where they leaned over the hole through which he had fallen, the crescent moon hanging above their heads like a halo.
fundy closed his eyes. “i’m sorry.”
they didn’t even patch up the hole in the glass.
there was no funeral. nobody even retrieved his body. sure, eret and niki tried, but it was too dangerous and no one was willing to help. so there his corpse remained, in the ashes of l’manburg.
if one were to squint, perhaps they would have seen a small fox pup lingering around pogtopia, niki’s bakery, eret’s castle, holding his fluffy tail to his chest like a pillow and trying to find somebody who would help him find home. he was lost, and scared, and tired. he just wanted his dad. where was his dad?
he wasn’t like wilbur or schlatt. they were still around, enough people remembered them for their spirits to be seen. memories of fundy were hazy at best, and so the young fox traversed death as he did in life — invisible and alone.
he seemed to never stop crying. he had a sentence of eternity, and no one to bail him out. with no one to talk to, fundy walked the land with everlasting tears dribbling down his face, listening, waiting for somebody to finally sing him a requiem.
waiting for anybody to lie and say that they missed him, that he had made a difference in their life in any way, that he had been a good friend or a decent son, that he was anyone worth grieving, the way he had grieved his entire life.
fundy hadn’t died. he was never truly alive in the first place.
shadows didn’t deserve to be remembered, anyways.