I really have no idea where this came from because I hate sad things. But I actually cried while writing this. That never happens to me.
O*O*O*O
You're hovering in the hall, weightless and flightless, disembodied, an apparition of shadow and ice-covered skin. But you're not skin at all. You feel like a cloud, like glass shattered into a thousand pieces. It's cold and dark, and you know that you should see your breath in the chilly air, but it seems that you're not breathing.
The world is at silence. Even your heart – if you still have one – ceases to make a sound.
Except... what is that horrid noise that chills you to the core? The moaning.
She's crying and sobbing from inside her room, overtaken by nightmares. Her sleep is not calm, and neither are you; your mind is whirling.
You can feel anger pulsing through you; gathering on your fingertips, coating your tongue, ready to burst…
You melt through the wooden door―
You're surprised at this. You weren't able to do that before. Hope blazes, rises and roils in a dark thrush of what ought to have been blood, ought to have made you blush, but you have no disgrace and no fear and no blood inside of you to blush at all.
And there she is. The girl is a morsel of warmth compared to your ghostly skin, sleeping fitfully in a sea of satin bedding, a blob of cropped brown hair buried in a purple pillow. The moaning is louder than before, echoing like drums in your ears.
NO NO NO NO NO...
She's crying for you. It's your name that she's whimpering in her dreams, your body that her hands are grasping for. Some unnamed emotion clenches you...
Curious, you slither towards the bed, icy feet never touching the carpet.
She crying your name, screaming your name with such horror that you pause for a moment, somehow worried that she knows you're here. Tears are streaming from her closed eyes, more and more wetness leaking as you glide closer and closer, and your emotions are flaring hotter and brighter with every movement. Anger anger anger anger pain pain hurt no no no no...
You raise your head and try to calm yourself, and then you catch sight of your reflection in the window: dark hair, ashen skin ― not skin, you remind yourself, seeing through your own reflection – vacant amber eyes shimmering like two cursed jewels.
You frown, and you're not sure why.
She screams again. EUGENE EUGENE. You cringe away from the sound like it burns.
EUGENE EUGENE EUGENE EUGENE. She screams and cries and moans and pleads... screams screams screams screams...
Two more steps and you are there at the edge of her bed, pressing your elbows into her sheets and leaning your face down closer and closer until she's shivering from the coolness of your breath. Vaguely, you register surprise that she can feel you at all. Hesitantly, you reach out a hand and brush two fingers against the shell of her ear.
She must have felt it because she shifts, her nose crinkling as if she was tickled, and rolls onto her side. Her hair brushes away from her face, her lovely perfect face, and suddenly it's as if your dead heart is beating again, beating in time with her every precious breath, and she's beautiful, she's everything, and you love her so much that it hurts every part of you and you wish you could cry.
Oh you love her. Love love love love...
Rapunzel.
It's Rapunzel. Of course it's Rapunzel. Your beautiful perfect innocent Rapunzel. And you love Rapunzel. You love her like nothing you've ever loved before.
But...
You died.
The realization frightens you so badly that for a moment you consider darting from the room and running as fast as you can because if there was anything Eugene Fitzherbert was good at it was running.
But love, you realize, is like a string tying you to her. Always. And you'll never leave her again. Never again.
You crawl beside her in the bed, reaching for your perfect girl and molding yourself around her like a blanket, an arm over her waist, a leg over hers.
A miracle occurs. Her tears cease.
You feel a rush of warmth as she exhales once against your neck. A look down at her lovely face tells you that her eyes are still closed, but her lashes are fluttering with awareness.
She exhales again sleepily. "...Eugene?"
And suddenly, you find your voice. "Please. Don't open your eyes."
"Eugene!" At once, she throws her arms around you and buries her closed eyes into the crook of your neck and lets out a dry sob. "I love you. I love you," she cries.
You stroke a hand comfortingly over her hair and she shivers from the chill.
"I'm so sorry," she whispers. "If you'd never met me... I killed you."
No. She's wrong. She's so so wrong. "You saved me."
She sobs again. "I love you, I love you."
You shudder a cold breath against her hair and cradle her closer. "Always."
A tear leaks down her cheek. In her soft, quiet, beautiful, broken voice, she whispers close to your ear. "Always."
You loosen your hold on her.
"No!" she cries. Her eyes are still closed but her hands are reaching out for you. "Don't go. Don't go, please, don't go. No, Eugene, please, stay. Don't go, don't go..."
With one last shuddering breath, you let go.
Her eyes snap open.
And she sees you.
The color drains from her face until she is pale and sickly and white.
EUGENE
Her broken voice clenches your dead heart.
There is a glisten from her window. It distracts you ― what is that? It's sunlight, slithering into her room like a snake from Eden's Garden. It hits your skin and you... shatter. It looks to your eyes like your hand is flooding with healthy color and that should be good but it feels like a bomb's gone off inside where your bones used to be. It's the first time the sunshine has ever burnt you and it brakes your heart for reasons you don't know.
You shy away from the burn but it's too late. You're gone.
O*O*O*O
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