𝘒ö𝘯𝘪𝘨 / 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

reincarnation {Ghost}

Soft.
Gentle.
Loving.

He was careful as his fingers gently touched your forehead, stroking your hair away.

"I won't leave you, y/n. Not now. Not ever."

Cursed to live out an immortal life.
Cursed to live out an endless loop of pain and suffering.
Cursed to lose you in every lifetime.

He knew all likelihood, he'd be watching you die in this very bed. Again.

"Even if you have to use the bathroom?"

Your laugh that once shook his bones, now a mere tingle on his skin.

Your eyes that once shone bright, now so dim, desperately in need of a new bulb.

"Even if I have to use the bloody bathroom."

A choked laughed escaped his lips as he looked at you. In desperate vain, he made sure to make you as comfortable as possible, his free hand interlaced with your hand.

There were no other words he wanted to say. He just sat there, holding your hand, waiting for the inevitable to happen.

Cold.
Weak.
Fragile.

He was forced to watch the life slowly fade from your eyes.

He would be alone.
Again.

"I don't-I don't want to go. I don't want to leave you, Simon."

Your hoarse voice a quiet whisper.
Your tired eyes looking into his own.
Your weak hand intertwined with his.
Your ragged breaths as you struggled to breathe.
Your thin fingers gently tapping against his hand.

"You're not leaving me. I'm not leaving you. We'll be together. You'll be out of this bed in a few days."

It would be like this.
It would always, always be like this.

Over and over you were fated to die.
Always.
And he would be cursed to live forever.
Always.
He would only see you every 10 years.
Always.
Every reincarnation of yours wouldn't remember him.
Always.
Always.
Always.

"I still need to...oh-I still need to get you new shoes. Yeah...your shoes are ugly."

"We'll go together. You can buy me whatever shoes you want. I'll wear them. You just focus on getting better, alright love?"

The tears were silent as they fell down his cheeks, the soft sobs being lost in the hiss of the oxygen tanks at the side of the bed.

Your chest rose and fell with every breath, as did his, and for a moment he allowed himself - just for a moment - to pretend you wouldn't die.

This was all going to pass by.
This was just a common cold.
This wasn't a terminal disease.

But he was no child. He knew life wasn't so kind. Not now, and not ever.

"...I know...I know, it's just...I'm so tired, Simon."

"It's okay. You can rest, love. I'll be here."

The steady beep of the monitors, the quiet hum from the ventilator, the heavy breaths you struggled to take in.

It was all he heard.
And he hated it.
He wanted to hear your voice in his ears.
He wanted to hold you in his arms.

Your grip, which had been somewhat strong, despite your circumstances, started to slip away from his own.

"Simon-I...I'm just going to sleep for a-a little...alright?"

But Simon didn't let go.
He wouldn't.
How could he?

For a moment, he remembered how his hand felt when touching your hand for the first time.

"Sleep how ever long you need to, y/n. I'll be here when you wake up, okay? I'll be here."

"...okay."

He remembered your smiles.
He remembered your obsession with the stars.
He remembered how you liked your coffee.
He remembered how you loved to read those sappy romance books.

He remembered everything about you.

"Do you....do you believe in second chances,   y/n?" His voice a quiet murmur. "Because you have all of mine, forever."

"Of course I do...and you have all of mine."

And then, just as your words left your lips, your grip was gone entirely, the machines beginning to flash red as they desperately tried to make up for your failing lungs.

And Simon?
He just sat there, his whole body shaking.

He knew what this meant.
You died.

He would only see you again in ten years.
He would only be with you for one year until this endless cycle started over again.

He would see you yet again in ten years.

But he'd take it.
One year every decade was all he could get with you.
And he wouldn't trade that for anything else.

His days bled into weeks, into months, into years.

He had spent most of his time in bed, staring at the ceiling. He didn't go to work, he didn't visit his friends or see his co-workers - he didn't even remember if he had any.

All he ever did was think about you.

In those ten years, he visited visit your grave.
He brought you your favorite flowers.
Your favorite fruit.
Your favorite book where he would read a chapter to you each day.
Anything that he could remember of what you liked, he would bring it to you.

And then, every ten years thereafter, because he promised he always would, he would be there for you.

Even if you never remembered him.
He never broke a promise to you.
Even if you never remembered him.

The 10 years went by.
You wouldn't remember him.
You wouldn't.

But he would remember you.
Always and forever, he would remember you.

"I'm coming y/n."