Third Person P.O.V.
He lays in a bed, the girl at his side. He shouldn't be here, yet here he is. He should've died then, yet he didn't.
As the girl had held him close to her, another boy wearing an expressionless mask had grabbed her and gently pulled her back. That's when the boy's allies had swarmed him.
A boy with a blue mask worked on him as an army was kept back, driven out or killed on the spot. Most of the enemy had died then, barely any had escaped. They were all meant to pay.
The boy with the blue mask had stitched him together, but it seemed he wouldn't live. He was already dead. There wasn't much hope but the Jester wouldn't allow this.
The Jester had shouted out, the rest of the enemy going down as they were striked with lightning. He ran to the boy, to Toby, and put his hands on his chest. Giving a controlled shock. Nothing happens.
The Jester tries again and again, determination spreading across his features like wild fire. The one with the expressionless mask was going to stop him before the boy gasped out, Toby breathing and coughing once again.
A miracle. Only, miracles don't exist.
So here the girl now sits, the memory of losing the boy and getting him back at the same time two months old but as strong in her mind like it just happened.
The boy had been unconscious for quite some time, resting since that morning after he had eaten. He was given quite some time off to cope with dying and being brought back. I don't blame him for wanting to sleep so much. Then again, why sleep when it is so similar to death?
She watches his sleeping form, so confused with herself. She knows who he is but chooses to stay with him nonetheless. She doesn't care what he has done in the past or what he'll do in the future. She cares for him. Deeply.
He wakes up slowly at first, then jerks awake when he sees her sitting and watching him. Smiling weakly at her, he gives a thumbs up. He doesn't want her to worry. He doesn't like it when she worries.
The girl looks at the boy and smiles back, but her eyes betray what she is feeling. Her eyes betray that she is dealing with emotional turmoil. But she knows that she wishes she'd stopped the boy from feeling the pain he now feels, even if it'd mean having to stop themselves from ever meeting.
But that isn't an option. You can not erase what is written in pen.
The girl leans towards the boy and he reaches out, running his hand along her cheek as she grabs his hand and holds it in place. She leans into the hand and closes her eyes, a smile spreading along his own lips as he watches her.
It would seem I was wrong.
Maybe killers do get happy endings.
Sometimes.
You are welcome.
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Won't You Stay? {COMPLETED}
FanfictionTicci Toby x Reader I do not own most of these characters. Hoodie and Masky (Brian and Tim) belong to Marble Hornets. The rest of the Pastas belong to their rightful owners. I don't own the you in the story. That'd be weird- and it's truth. So. Any...