Helena stared at her horrid reflection in the mirror, then the slits on her wrists…

It's been five years since his death; she had done her job of restoring the humanity back into the victims of BL/ind's tyranny. However, the personal results she got from her missions were… pitiful. With the demise of her lover, she was alone and haunted. She tried, she desperately tried to live by his last words of "Don't be afraid to keep on living, don't be afraid, even if you walk this world alone", but it's easier said than done. Her broken mind constantly dumped salt onto the bloody scars in her brain, and those stupid thoughts relentlessly wreaked havoc on her body.

She missed her Poison; all that was left of him were the memories, of their passionate kisses, his warm, loving embrace, and that final moment with him, as he gently stroked her face. Bottles of alcohol lay around her small dwelling, knives littered her bathroom, and the toilet water was not clear, but a bloody red. Her black-and-red eyeliner was smeared as the tears rolled down her face. Oh, so worthless, this waste of a life was… Like a piece of rubbish. All her friends were gone, as before Poison's destruction of BL/ind, the remaining Killjoys were all hunted down. In the lonely, frigid nights, all she could hear were those ghosts in the sun, calling at her, begging her to join them…

I hate this person in this mirror. So pathetic, so weak, so ugly, so forlorn, with all dreams crushed and gone with the wind.

She quickly wiped off the make-up; what's in was despair.

Slowly, she sat down onto the toilet, examining the slits on her wrists. She drew out a knife, and while wincing, made another cut along the long stretch of scars. The pain felt good; for a few brief moments, the ache of torn flesh made her feel alive. The blood mixed with her lot of emotions and the black dress she'd thrown on earlier; she smiled at the sight, expecting to not cry.

Then, the sadness struck her again as she recalled the vampire Gerard. Tears began rolling down her face; she quickly covered up her eyes while blood dripped down from her cut. She sunk her face into her legs, making the quietest sobbing noises. Strangers could've seen it as laughing; her body hysterically trembled, but other than the occasional sniffle, there was barely any sound coming from her.

I look so disgusting…

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, someone hugged her from behind. She'd heard no footsteps, but the presence was so familiar…

"I just wanted you to know… that the world is ugly, but you're beautiful to me…" A gentle singsong whisper came from the person as he wrapped his semi-transparent arms tighter around her body. A strange, cold tingle ran down her spine at the almost non-existent touch.

Helena turned around, to see hazel eyes devotedly staring into hers…

"Poison…?" She asked in disbelief. No... I must be hallucinating... Poison's... dead!

The phantom smiled at her. "Oh, my lovely angel…" With barely observable hands, he stroked her face, caressing her in his arms. "I am not so with you anymore… I'm just a ghost," he seemed to read her mind. He winked at her, then leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss. At least I can't hurt you anymore… As her face softened, his eyes glistened with sadness and regret. So, I can't hurt you anymore, he repeated.

Helena was very confused, but for now, she'd rather not think about the horrifying event from five years ago. She should cherish and rejoice his presence, even if he is only a hallucination, or a phantom. She buried her face into his ghostly body, whispering "I miss you." Her voice cracked from a mixture of joy and sorrow, and hot tears started uncontrollably rolling down her face.

A bit of warmth radiated off his eerie presence as he lifted her up into the air (for a second, Helena was struck with awe as she thought she was flying), and strolled away towards the living room, cautiously avoiding the bottles alcohol and sighing disapprovingly. As he arrived at the sofa, Gerard carefully sat down, as Helena searched for the perfect, warmest and coziest spot against his chest, then snuggled her face into his body. He, with a slight frown, grinned down at her as he cuddled her face, while her tears seeped into his body. He leaned his cheeks against the top of her head, and closed his eyes, breathing in her wonderful scent.

"I wanted you to know… I'm thinking of you, every night, every day…" he cooed into her ears.

He raised her slit wrists, and tenderly ran his lips along her arm, carefully kissing each scar. "Stop your crying, helpless feeling; dry your eyes and start believing! There's one thing they'll never taking from you." He then wiped off the tears streaming down her face, and she looked up, staring at him with a hurt smile. He bent down and brushed his cheeks against hers, tightly grasping her fragile body.

They stayed there for a while, before Gerard set her down onto the sofa, then jolted up to remove all the bottles on the floor. After stashing the bottles in a faraway place, he slid back to Helena's side. "Hand in mine," Gerard instructed. Taking the ghostly hand of her lover, she stood up, and Gerard led her to the cleared wooden floor. "I might be a bit rusty," Helena told him as she braced herself into position by clutching Gerard's black uniform.

The two, one alive and one ghost, gracefully glided across the makeshift dancefloor. "Since when did you learn how to dance?" Helena asked curiously as she twirled around.

"A ghost can still learn, can it not?" Gerard retorted jokingly. He bent down to kiss her lips…

Then, suddenly, he disappeared into thin air.

"Don't let me here! Don't leave me here! Don't walk away, and let me die in my house of wolves!"

"We'll meet again, when both our cars collide."