A/N: For the Pocket Morty Competition (Ghostly Morty: Write about a ghost) and the Variety Drabble Challenge (9/50: HagridMyrtle)
"Rubeus?"
He looks up at her with the same sweet smile he always wears. "Yeah?"
Myrtle feels her heart clench. Words that should come so easily seem to stick in her throat, choking her.
Rubeus would understand. Her sweet giant has always been so kind to her. Surely he would understand the way she feels; maybe he would even return those feelings.
But she is so used to keeping her thoughts to herself. Too often, she is ridiculed for daring to speak. Sweet Rubeus is not like the others, but what if he decides he would rather be alone than in the company of such a pitiful girl?
She reaches for his parchment. "I can look over your Charms homework if you'd like," she mumbles, her cheeks burning.
"Mighty kind of yeh, Myrtle."
Myrtle floats over the toilets without a purpose.
She still thinks of him, of her sweet Rubeus with his kind words and warm heart. He is still here, still at the castle.
Sometimes Myrtle thinks about leaving and wandering the rest of the halls as she had when she was still alive. She could find him. He's still as kind and lovely as he had been all those years ago, she's sure of it.
In death, her only regret had been that she had kept quiet, that she hadn't dared tell him that she had loved him - that she still loves him.
She thinks that she could find her courage now to tell him. He will understand, and maybe he will tell her that he's always loved her.
She could try. She's dead, and there is nothing left to lose.
But as she drifts to the wall that leads out to the corridor, she stops herself.
She is dead. Rubeus is alive, and losing her had already been enough pain.
Telling him now will not change anything. Telling him now will only make things worse.
She returns to her aimless floating, wailing.
