AN: did this a while ago, keep forgetting to post my stuff on here too
It swirls like a masterpiece, surrounding him and choking the life out of those he loves. When he wakes- and fuck, that's the worst part. There won't be anyone there to greet him, and after waking up to faces for the past sixty years it's going to be a shock. Not a big, one especially after all those he's lost and he's lost so much it hurts. The lump in his throat feels the same, the tears stinging at his eyes even more. The comfortable feeling of overwhelming sadness takes him in and he leaves. His mind and emotions were there only now they aren't-
He's just gone.
He's okay just not really but that's okay and-
No. Just stop.
Like watching a boring movie, he sits up and discards everything, reality warps and he's okay really. There's no reason to be worried, he's not sad or anything. His steps sound like change jiggling and oh, look there's beads in his pocket-
Something inside him is crying and that's not okay- he can't not be okay because he's perfectly fine.
The beads drop back in his pocket and he's fine.
There's water dripping down his cheeks and his nose feels uncomfortably stuffy and he's hungry.
He's just hungry.
Human bodies need food, he reminds himself dully. Glancing around he sees that there really isn't any food available but that's okay because Marco (and is that his name? Sometimes he doesn't really remember.) is completely fine and wow the sun is bright would you look at that. The area around him seems to be charred and there's a faint trembling in his hands. Why? He couldn't tell you. He's probably just hungry.
Reality warps again and he's not okay- he's trembling and shaking and the world is crashing down on him because everyone is deaddeaddeaddeaddeaddead
Ace.
It was naive to put his faith in such a small boy-
"I'm not about to die!" A smile so bright and a promise so warm covered in the blood of someone lost to the hands of a monster Marco failed to stop-
Reality warps again- and wow- wouldn't it just be better if he died? This sounds like a solid thought, Marco thinks. He stumbles out of the charred area and continues his search for water or a town or a convenient piece of sea stone he could maybe impale himself on and this is a really good idea.
As long as he stops feeling.
It's all too much, the wash of agony and want and all his pain wrapped all in one giant "Fuck You" cake that he shoves to the corner of his mind and doesn't poke again.
There.
The suicidal thoughts get their own little box in the small corner of his mind to never be visited ever again because no matter how many times he dies he still can't wrap his head around death entirely. It evades him, pokes fun at his cowardice.
"You know how to end this." It says and giggles and brushes his side, "You can end this now." It whispers and pulls him to the ocean and he's trudging on guided by the whispers of death itself. A zombie of rotting flesh with a whole through it's chest trudges to the ocean and falls.
And falls.
And it stops feeling.