Chapter Text
Your last words to Ghost were I love you.
Ghost’s last words to you were I hate you.
You wonder if he would regret those words. Because you would never regret confessing to him, no matter how much it hurt.
The sky is bleak and depressing, muted in colors and devoid of any warmth. You could feel it before it even reached you.
This is your end, and you’re dying, Ghost’s hate still burning bright inside your chest. You were going to die and you were never going to have another chance at forgiveness with him, and you were never going to have another chance to tell him you loved him again, even if he hated hearing it.
You were going to die alone and hated by the one person on Earth that you loved. You were never going to see Ghost again, never would have the chance to feel his arms around you. You would never know what it meant to be loved by him.
It hurts more than the gaping wound on your side. It hurts more than your broken leg. It hurts more than the arm stuck underneath the rubbles.
A lone tear escapes your eye, unbidden, your chest spasming with pain and panic.
You can’t move. It hurts. It’s freeing. This is the end.
In a way, this was God’s mercy on you. It was a mercy death, like an animal being put to death to shorten his suffering, because you know he would never be able to live painless again.
You were just like an animal, put out of its misery.
You choke on a sob. It hurts. It jostles the ribs underneath your skin. Blood slips away and drips freely. You can’t open your eyes.
You wished you could see Ghost, one last time. But would you be able to bear the look of pure disgust and hatred in his eyes in this state?
(It was better than dying alone. It was better than dying alone without telling him you loved him again.)
Another piece of rubble falls on you, on your broken leg. You scream. Your voice is torn apart, your vocal cords fraying as you scream and cry and beg and plead for mercy.
“It hurts, please, please,” you plead, but there’s no one around. You’re all alone.
You lived alone and you die alone. It’s so painfully fitting, and you feel like your heart is being torn apart, crushed to death, and it has nothing to do with the lack of oxygen.
You wonder if Ghost noticed your absence. You wonder if Ghost would feel bad for his harsh words if he saw you like this.
You laugh, your throat gargling with blood and tears. Of course he wouldn’t feel bad. Ghost wasn’t a hypocrite; he wasn’t going to suddenly stop hating you just because you’re dying.
Your eyes flutter open one last time, your lashes wet with tears, the white of your eyes red with blood.
You always thought death would be a peaceful experience.
You were wrong.
Death was anything but peaceful. Your body was coiled tight, adrenaline burning as it coursed through your veins, your muscles spasming and locking in pain, your chest tight and your lungs too big and too small at the same time, never drawing enough oxygen, drawing too much oxygen.
Your mind reeled. Instead of thinking of all your life events like they say you do before dying, all you can see is Ghost.
Was it really worth it, confessing to him? Was it worth it, seeing the look of pure hatred on his face as you told him you loved him?
Your mind goes blank. The sky turns off.
Your eyes open in panic in what felt like only a few seconds and you look around, dazed.
You were still in the rubbles.
You cry, no, you wail, like a newborn baby that realizes his mother was nowhere near. Like a baby that realized he was all alone and that no one loved him.
It hurts. It hurts so bad.
Doesn’t anyone notice you were gone?
You weren’t the best person to be around but… were you that insignificant?
You hoped that death would be quicker. More merciful. Your entire being hurt.
You just wanted to see Ghost one last time.
The universe was cruel, pulling a prank on you at your lowest moment.
“Can you hear me?”
There’s a voice, and you’re dreaming, no other reason as to why you can hear it. You don’t reply, instead your face melts into an expression of peacefulness.
It was a hallucination but you didn’t care. Even if it wasn’t real, you were glad you could hear Ghost’s voice one last time.
Yes, I can hear you, you think to yourself.
For some reason, your body doesn’t feel heavy. Doesn’t feel burdened by the rubbles and the harsh ground beneath it. It’s almost like you’re flying, floating.
Maybe death was peaceful, after all.
The voice stopped speaking, and you frowned. It was too good to be true, maybe.
But then, it starts again. It sounds panicked now, a sharp edge to the usually calm and almost bored tone.
You sighed.
There’s something that presses around you, and you whine. It hurt.
“I know, I know it hurts sweetheart,” the fake Ghost voice says.
It felt nice to be called that, even if it wasn’t real.
Maybe this was your chance.
“I’m not sorry I confessed to you,” you tell fake Ghost. “But I’m sorry I’m not sorry, I know you hate me.”
There’s a pained sob. “Oh what have I done,” the fake Ghost voice says, sounding so guilty and broken, and it sounds so real, it felt like a sharp blade to your heart. You wished so bad it was really him.
“‘S not your fault,” you mumble. “Mine,” you say. “‘M sorry that I love you.”
“Oh no no no, you don’t get to say that,” the voice said, as if your words truly pained him. “I’m the one who’s sorry, I’m the one who should be apologizing, YN.”
“‘S alright, ‘s alright, I’m just glad I could hear your voice one last time.”
“Don’t say that,” the voice said almost harshly. “You can and you will hear my voice again and again after this, and even if you grow tired of it, I’ll keep talking your ear off.”
You chuckle dryly. “Now I know this is not real because the real Ghost hates talking. And the real Ghost hates me.”
The fake Ghost falls silent. For a fake one, he was kind of realistic.
“I… I’m sorry,” he repeats.
No. This Ghost wasn’t realistic at all, but it was what you had always wanted, so you let yourself imagine it was real.
“It is real,” he continued to say.
You know he’s lying, but you didn’t care. Pretending that this is real was your last wish.
“Okay, then. Can you lie and tell me that you love me if this is real?” Your voice is faint, weak.
“I don’t need to lie for that, sweetheart,” he says in a pained voice.
“Say it,” you beg him. “Quick.”
The voice hesitates.
“No. I’m not saying it now. I will say it when you’re safe and alive. So please, please stay alive. Please don’t do this to me,” he pleads.
You want to believe him so bad, but time was ticking, and you could hear the sweet siren call of death.
“Please,” you beg urgently. “Please, please I just want to hear you say it once.”
You couldn’t see it, but Ghost’s face crumbled underneath his mask. Oh it hurt, to see you like this. And it was all his fault.
“I lo—“
It was true, after all. You would never know how it felt to hear Ghost say he loves you.
Because your body went limp in his arms right before he could even finish.