(You)

I'm falling.m

At least, I think I'm falling.

There's that feeling in the pit of my stomach, when you're going down a roller coaster, or down a steep hill.

Or falling, down to your death, staring impending doom right in the face. I hope it's over soon, I was never one for kiddish rides, and moving quickly. I think I'm praying for my death, for the ground to catch up to my body, and pulverize me, shatter me.

End me.

But things are never that easy.

When I open my eyes, I'm welcomed by harsh fluorescent lights, and I have to squint. I groan, and sit up. Wherever I am, it's cold, and I'm freezing. I bring my hands up to my temples and press down, there's a feeling of urgency, like something – or someone, rather – is missing from my side. I shiver, and pull myself off of from where I was laying. The beginnings of a headache dance along my cull, and I try not to groan.

"Hello?" I move about what looks like a small room, but I don't recognize it. There's a vanity to my left, but I can't see myself in the mirror unless I move closer, and I find myself rushing to it, having forgotten something as mundane as how I look.

My appearance surprises me. I'm almost sure I remembered having (e/c) eyes, and (skin color) skin, but now, looking at myself in the small, dusty vanity, I'm pale, with orange eyes, still retaining my (h/l), (h/c) hair, though. Panic spreads through me, echoing through my body and radiating up to my skull as pounding, like a million drums, proceeds to destroy the back of my head. I let out a pained groan, and clench my eyes shut, pleading for the headache to go away. To whom I am pleading? I'm not too sure. I wander over to the door, limping, and laying my hand on the dusty, goldenrod doorknob, the coolness of it stings against my palm, and I hiss, retreating my hand. I pull down the sleeve of my brown gown, and tug the door open. It's stuck, the humidity must have made the wood expand, and I keep tugging, until it finally gives way under the pressure. I smile triumphantly and make my way outside.

Outside, the scenery is busier, there is the hustle and bustle of these little creatures that look almost like Christmas Elves, and many yetis, all running around in strangely organized mayhem. I chuckle, and make my way across the room. Behind me, as I walk, I'm followed by the sounds of several gasps, echoing throughout the room. I keep my chin high, but struggle to not look back. Chin up, buttercup, the worst is yet to come. A voice tells me. It's not my voice, it's that of a male, but he seems familiar, and warm, and I'm by a sudden feeling of melancholy.

Ignoring the sudden silence, I keep walking, with my chin high, and pride in my steps. I wander into a large room, and four figures are crowded around a large globe. Above them, a skylight shows the moon, and it looks beautiful, apparently it's night, but I don't have time to admire it, I have to figure out exactly where I am. "Ahem," I mutter, straightening my dress, and tilting my chin a little higher. When that doesn't work, and the figures in the room keep chattering away, some angry, some sad, I decide to speak.

"Hello? I would like to know where I am."

(Jack)

"Jack, please," Tooth begs.

"Jack, you must get over (y/n) soon, mate," Bunny says, looking at me, eyes veiled with concern.

I shake my head, "no way," I say, crossing my arms across my chest, "she's not dead, she's not dead." I repeat, and I think I'm trying to convince myself, not Bunny.

North lays one of his large, meaty, hands on my shoulder and looks at me, eyes soft, and expression pleading, "please, Jack. You must try," he says, pouring reason and patience into his voice.

I shake out of his grasp, and frown, clenching my teeth shut. "No," I breathe adamantly through clenched teeth.

I spark an argument in the entire group, and they all begin shouting their piece at me. I try not to pay too much attention, it's not like they can convince me otherwise. It's been two days since (y/n) died, and they already want to give up on the prophecy. Well I don't. If there's even the slightest chance that she'll come back, well then I'll have to take it.

Just when I think I've heard enough, the room goes silent, and is only followed by some gasps, and a soft, "hello?"

My eyes widen, my heart stops, and my cold, cold body suddenly feels a little warmer. I look up at North, searching his eyes for answers, but only seeing shock, and happiness in the old man's eyes.

I try to convince myself to turn around, but my brain tells me that I can't be real. My heart is pounding like a million soldiers' footfalls, at a million beats per minute, and I bite my bottom lip before whirling around.

What I see surprises me in the best way, and I can't fight the grin that is spreading across my face.

"(Y/n)!" I exclaim, flying over to her and wrapping my arms around her, squeezing her shoulders, not wanting to let go. I melt into her warmth and blink back tears, "you're okay, you're okay!" I say, trying to convince myself that this is real, and not some dream, my brain playing twisted games with my heart.

But her reaction leaves much to be desired.

She smiles, but her eyes are perplexed, confused, scared even, and she searches my face for answers, "I'm sorry," she says, biting her bottom lip. Her once (e/c) eyes are now orange, and her usually lively skin is now pale, dead, "but who are you?" She asks, frowning, and getting a good look around the room.

I exhale incredulously, I'm still smiling, but the curve on my face is hurt, pained.

"It's me, (y/n), it's Jack, don't you remember me?" I fly backwards and motion at the rest of the Guardians, "don't you remember us?"

(You)

I eye the pretty boy before me, pale eyes, pale skin, and pale hair, but all the same, pretty.

His expression shows hurt, like I've never seen before, as soon as he realizes that I don't remember him. "I'm sorry," I murmur, feeling as though I owe him some sort of explanation, "I'm sorry, I don't remember." My voice is cracking, fraying at the edges, and I'm suddenly blinking back tears.

Why? Why am I crying? If I don't know these people – a large bunny, a fairy, a large old man, a short golden man, and the pretty boy – than why do I feel the sudden urge to cry for them?

I can't fight the tears back anymore, and they flow down my face. I meet the pretty boy's eyes – Jack, he said his name was Jack – and pour emotion into them, hoping they look as apologetic as I feel. "I'm so sorry," I breathe, my breathing uneven, ragged.

Jack just smiles, and floats back over to me, wrapping his arms around me.

"If you can't remember all of your old memories," he says, pulling apart from me and smiling, our eyes meet, and I instantly feel warm, "then we'll just have to make new ones."

AGH OMG I AM SO SORRY

I KNOW THAT I AM A TERRIBLE HUMAN BEING, AND I BEG YOU GUYS FOR FORGIVENESS.

I am really sorry though guys! School is murdering me, and now that I'm taking college classes, it's at least 5x harder :'(

I'm not asking for pity, just bear with me guys. I'm finally back, and I will TRY MY DARN HARDEST TO PUT UP THE NEW CH. RIGHT AWAY.

Alright my babies, all I need is three comments, and the next one will be up.

I PINKY SWEAR ON MY SOUL.

((AND FOR YOU JEFF X READER FANS, THE NEW ONE WILL BE UP TOMORROW, BECAUSE IT IS CURRENTLY HELLA LATE OVER HERE, AND I'M STRUGGLING TO KEEP MY EYES OPEN, BUT REST ASSURED I WILL MAKE TIME FOR YOU BABIES TOMORROW))

THANK YOU, AND I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH :):)