gay-panic-at-all-times - Tumblr blog

gay-panic-at-all-times · 1 month ago

Text

I read this in my free period.

I cried.

My teacher sent me to the nurses office.

I fell down some stairs.

I quoted Kai Azer.

I proclaimed my undying, hatred-involved love for you, author.

I recited the Lords prayer.

I went home.

I missed my bus stop.

The old lady next to me (my neighbor) asked me if I was okay.

I answered in sobs of despair.

I may have traumatised her.

I'm sorry, Martha.

This is pure agony formed in poetry with a nice heading pic.

I will pass this story through generations to come.

I wrote this at 3 am after spending my day reading Powerless, Powerful, Fearless, Reckless and THIS. I was emotionally wasted and unstable and already half-asleep. I don't regret it.

shall we look at the moon?

pairing: megan skiendiel x female reader

synopsis: in the days leading up to the anniversary of your death, megan spirals in the worst way. she swears she has dealt with her grief, but how can she move on when even in death your presence is constant?

tags: ghost!yn. heavy angst. hurt/comfort. major character death. implied drowning as cause of death. themes of grief. flashbacks / dreams in italics.

a/n: tried experimenting with writing such a heavy topic, despite never having dealt with grief in my life. my poor bby megs :( i’m so sorry y’all, i’ll write fluff for her soon <333 also i’ll try nd attempt continuing the fake dating megan series 🤞this is longer than most fics i write, so get comfy 💞💞

[tuesday, 10:46pm]

the shower water is cold against megan’s skin.

she clenches her hand around nothing, tightening her hand into a fist. her pruned skin rubs against itself. its an odd sensation, and usually she’d stop immediately, but she does it for now. she does it for herself—anything to help her feel.

the icy water is supposed to shock her awake, give a jolt to her system, but it seems like no use. her chest still feels weighed down, her body empty, her mind numb.

megan reaches for the soap. she scrubs away, hard and unrelenting. she’s cleaned herself about three times now, but still—she scrubs and scrubs and scrubs.

megan isn’t sure what exactly she’s washing away, the filthy sweat from practice, or the ghostly grip you had on her soul.

it seems, even in death, you haunt her.

“fuck,” megan hisses as the soap slips from her hands. she reaches down to pick it up, but it slips from her hands again. she tried once more. for a third time, the soap slides out her grasp.

usually, megan would laugh.

normally, she’d smile and find the scene oddly comical.

instead, megan scoffs under her breath, angry. stupid, fuck ass soap! this is why lara shouldn’t buy their toiletry products! whether she’s angry at the soap itself, lara, or at herself, she isn’t sure.

but soon, that hot, burning anger she feels turns into an ache that has a vice grip on her heart.

megan breathes.

her body stills, she waits.

waiting for a crash out feels like watching paint dry, it feels like the calm before the storm. megan knows she deserves this, needs it. she’d fought long and hard the entire day to keep the tears at bay.

god, today absolutely sucked.

the wait doesn’t last long. tears brim the bottom of her eyelids, threatening to drop. the first few that fall mix with the water, until eventually, she isn’t sure what streams down her face— the salty tears or the freezing water.

they’re both the same to her, anyways.

the first sob that escapes her is quiet, as if she’s testing the waters. as if she needs to make sure no one in the house could hear her agonizing cries.

the second sob is louder, heavier. it wracks through her whole body like a piercing stab. it knocks her down, till her knees buckle and her body falls back. she leans against the shower wall, cold water still running.

the third sob feels like a punch to the gut. her breathing labored, her lungs feels like they’ve been cut through. her supply of oxygen is lacking, making it increasingly difficult to breathe.

between her choked weeping, the stinging water, the tears that now burn her eyes, megan hasn’t noticed anything happening around her, until the water stops. only droplets now remain, falling from the shower facet.

a towel is placed over her shoulder, the material soft against her skin.

megan doesn’t notice the voice whispering against her ears, she doesn’t care either. everything is too much—the feelings, her clouded mind, her trembling hands. she grips onto whoever is holding her, grounding herself.

and soon, when megan’s eyes open, the tears now gone and her vision clear, she sees your ghost-like figure standing in the corner of the bathroom. you’re watching her solemnly, a pained look on your face. your hand twitches at your side, itching to reach out to her.

she watches you, silently.

her heart breaks all over again.

sophia pulls her tightly against her, kissing megan’s temple, and tightens the towel around her younger band member. she holds her, grip unrelenting, letting her know she wasn’t alone. and she doesn’t let go until megan’s exhausted herself, passing out in sophia’s arms.

that night, megan’s sobs rattle the walls of the house. it haunts each member, an indefinite scar embedded deep in their lives.

₊˚🎧⊹♡

[wednesday, 11:04am]

for megan, the day starts with peeling the blanket off her body. a simple task, and yet she feels it takes a strenuous amount of effort.

today is a break in the kats’ schedule. grateful for having to do no work, megan takes slow steps as she exits the room. lara is nowhere to be seen. she isn’t in their room, isn’t in the bathroom. megan checks each room of her members. first, she finds yoonchae asleep. then, much like lara, sophia isn’t there either. finally, she discovers manon and daniela’s room is equally as vacant.

she trudges along the hallway of the house. its quiet, oddly quiet. the silence is so deafening to megan, her thoughts scream louder in return.

“morning,” a voice startles her.

megan looks up. she sees daniela, who’s sitting comfortably on the couch. a blanket covers her legs, an opened book perched in her lap.

megan waves, small and timidly.

before daniela can say anything else, megan mumbles an “i’m okay” in her direction. she hopes it’s enough for her member to not worry, hopes that it’ll put daniela’s mind at ease after last night.

daniela watches as megan smiles at her. its unconvincing, doesn’t reach her eyes. like megan is a moment away from another breakdown. the younger member walks on, and daniela continues to follow her with her gaze. megan looks lost, like she’s floating miles away.

daniela sighs, shoots a quick text to sophia.

megan makes quick work of preparing a cup of her coffee. she almost burns herself when pouring the hot water, and yet, it doesn’t sting as much as when she hears your voice.

“you should talk to one of them.” you tell her, voice low and quiet.

megan stirs the spoon in the cup. “i told dani i’m fine, because i am. okay, yn?” her words have a harsh bite.

“you don’t seem like it. i know you aren’t alright, megs.” you respond as delicately as you can, eyebrows creased together.

you’d been in this position before—watching megan carry on as if her world wasn’t crumpling around her. you had to admit though, she does a pretty good job at avoiding such a difficult situation.

“jesus—i’m fine.” she tells you, her tone leaving no room for discussion. and finally, she looks up at you. your transparent-like figure greets her, and megan feels her body run cold.

you swallow down another reply, opting to stay silent.

you can tell her seeing you like this brings an unimaginable amount of pain. it stings in your own chest, like your soul was tethered to hers, even if your heart no longer beats.

megan’s hands shake. she drops the spoon, and it clatters along the kitchen counter, echoing around the room.

she lets out a shuttered breath.

“i’m sorry, yn, i— i don’t mean to push you away.”

she watches as you nod, soundlessly. your fingers dance around each other, holding onto your own so that you ignore the itch to reach for megan’s. even if you did reach for her, you’d never be able to feel her in any case.

“i want to talk about it, i do. but i can’t find the words. i only have this hollowing feeling, like a void is in me, and everywhere around my body.”

megan inhales a sharp breath and turns away, back facing you. her coffee she made leaves her mind as she walks away from the kitchen and back to her room, once again catching the attention of a concerned daniela.

the room is cold. megan leans against the door and thumps the back of her head on it, biting down on her lip so hard she draws blood. she walks over to her bed a moment later, and falls into it. the comforter feels itchy against her skin.

megan doesn’t have to look up to know you’d followed her back to the room. she feels your presence, permanently there.

back in the lounge, daniela listens to the door shutting.

she doesn’t follow immediately. instead, she waits. quietly and carefully.

dani gives her the time, the space. she understands it’s what megan needs the most, what megan has stressed to her members countless times before. but this isn’t just giving her space, this is her letting megan drift further away, so far that daniela fears none of the members would be able to pull her back.

she stands from couch, slow and deliberate. her footsteps are light against the floor as she makes her way to megan and lara’s shared room.

she knocks once, no answer.

when daniela opens the door seconds later, she finds megan kneeling on the floor, her body slumped against the side of her bed. her arm is wrapped around her waist tightly, holding herself. daniela comes closer, kneels down along with her and places a tentative hand against megan’s shoulder.

“‘m f-fine.” megan whispers, but her voice is caught in her throat and she looks as if breathing alone hurts her.

“you don’t have to pretend, megs.” daniela tells her, gently coaxing megan into letting her in. “i know it’s hard, it’s a difficult time. but you don’t have to go through it alone.”

at her words, megan crumbles.

the dam breaks, the pressure too much. megan’s sob is loud and raw, the grief clawing at her chest finally rips free. its ugly, intense, harsh.

megan collapses in daniela’s arm. the latina catches her immediately, leans megan’s head in the crook of her neck. she doesn’t care that the younger wets her skin and t-shirt, doesn’t care that megan’s nails digging in her side is hurtful. she simply holds her, keeping megan up as the grief knocks her down.

time moves strangely in that moment.

neither daniela nor megan is sure how long they sat on the floor. daniela is certain her knees were bruised by now, but still, she rubs a hand up and down megan’s back—until her sobs turn into quiet whimpers, until her breathing evens out.

megan sighs, “thanks.. for being here.”

“always.” daniela locks her hands with megan’s, squeezing it gently.

megan tightens her grip. dani doesn’t let go.

₊˚🎧⊹♡

[thursday, 05:37pm]

the afternoon sun pans through the house, warming each and every corner. it’s a pleasant summer day, and the streaks of golden sunlight sets megan in a much better mood.

she’d spent the day lounging around, catching up on some episodes she’d missed over the busy weeks of katseye’s newest comeback. getting into a change of clothes, playing some games, listening to her favorite artists—anything to make her feel better and release her from this slump. you watched from the sidelines the entire day, glad she was taking a step in the right direction.

earlier, she noticed the messy heap of clothes thrown around her room, and the equally messy space in her closet. so, she decided she’d clean.

the sight that greets lara when she enters their room is her roommate, on the floor, folding some t-shirts and stacking them atop on another. she also sees there’s already two shelves thats been rearranged and organized, a small smile gracing her features.

“i take it you’re feeling better.” she says, smoothly crossing the room and flops onto her bed.

megan looks at the girl over her shoulder. “yeah, a little.” she nods, and continues folding some tops. she packs the finished pile onto the shelf, and begins folding again, starting another pile.

lara tilts her head to the side, “that’s good.”

the look in her eyes is less pity and more one of empathy, her gaze burning into megan’s. it makes the younger’s chest hurt, having seen this look for three days now. she tears her eyes away from lara and swallows down a lump in her throat.

they continue to sit in silence, being in one another’s presence as they each do their own thing.

when megan’s finished up with organizing her shelves, she stands up and moves over to open the other closet doors. hoodies and jackets laying on her bed await her, needing to be hung in the closet. she makes it through a couple, before she catches sight of one particular jacket—yours.

her hands become taut around the fabric.

megan’s stilled movements are caught in lara’s peripheral vision. she looks up, studying the chinese girl. her eyes were unblinking, like she’d been frozen in time.

lara doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t speak.

megan didn’t mean for the words to fall out, but when they do, they’re heavy with a kind of sadness that could break a person.

“she used to wear this all the time.”

lara looks at the jacket. it’s a beige color, and she can tells its old from the way the zipper is almost breaking away from the interlocking teeth.

“i mean, it’s cute. i can see why she’d always wear it.” lara replies, without any hesitancy, as if it was a normal interaction between the two.

you’re watching them from megan’s bed, sitting against the pillows. “tell her it was my favorite.” your smile was crooked, some humor in your tone.

“it was her favorite, y’know.” megan repeats, quickly looking up at you. the smile she sees in your face lights a fire in her. it’d been a while since either of you had smiled.

“i’d love to hear more about some of her other favorite things,” lara told her band member. quickly, she adds, “some day.”

her words have you gasping, looking at megan with excitement in your eyes. “ooh! you’ve got to tell her about my favorite spot back home! and also, my favorite movie, it’s a classic. my favorite band —mh, what else?— don’t forget my favorite marvel character!”

megan lets out a quick breath. this was all too much. too many feelings, voices, thoughts. she hears your words, but she isn’t taking them in. instead, her mind is far away, the jacket having unlocked a memory she hadn’t thought of in years.

you’d been sitting in megan’s room for quite some time now. an was an episode of spongebob was playing on her laptop, but she hadn’t been paying much attention.

megan tapped her fingers against her thigh, visibly bored and tired of binging cartoons. she looked at you, chuckling at the way you’re engrossed in the show. she sighed.

“let’s go out!” she yelled, quickly getting off her bed and walking around to get a pair of shoes.

“what? megs, it’s almost eleven p.m.” you replied, looking between her and the laptop.

“so?” she shrugged, tying her laces.

you furrowed your eyebrows, pausing the show and sitting up straighter. “what could we possibly do this late at night?”

“go to a park? get some food?” she offered, grabbing that beige jacket out her closet and throwing it on the bed. “i don’t know! but i’m bored and i fear i have a case of cabin fever.”

you laughed, shaking your head at her. “alright.”

following in her footsteps, you got off the bed and slipped on your shoes. when you were done, you turned around and that’s when you noticed the jacket megan chucked out the closet.

“hey, wait! is this mine?” you asked, looking up at megan while holding the jacket in your hands. the girl turned away sheepishly. “i’ve been looking for this for weeks!”

your mouth hung open in shock, thinking you’d lost the jacket somewhere at school. meanwhile, it’d been in megan’s closet this entire time.

“you had it all this time, you… you thief!”

megan’s already out her bedroom by the time she answered you, giggling to herself. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

later that night, while you two sat in the park and the chilly air whipped past you, megan shivered. she tried to hide it, but you noticed anyway. you’d unzipped your jacket, and even though she protested, claiming you’d catch a cold, you easily slipped it in her, making quick work of zipping up the jacket and gave her your signature smile.

“there, heat up. your nose is all red from the cold.” a scowl was present on your face, but the anger wasn’t serious in anyway. “looks better on you.” you proclaimed.

you stare lingered, warmth in your eyes. it was a look that megan had seen many times, a look that managed to say i love you without ever uttering the words.

a hand on her shoulder pulls her back, firm. stable. grounding.

it isn’t lara’s voice that reaches her ears. instead, it’s yours. you’d gotten off the bed, now standing beside megan. “hey, megs..” she can feel your gaze boring into the side of her head. it stings. she looks away, but your eyes never leave her.

she blinks, not even realizing the little tears that managed to gather in her eyes. megan sniffles, coughs lightly, and places her hand over lara’s. it’s a small gesture, a thank you, her way of saying that she’s grateful lara is here with her.

“i’m sorry,” megan whispers. “i was just— i remembered something.”

lara doesn’t say anything at first. she takes the jacket out megan’s hands, places it back on the bed and sits down. she gently tugs megan to sit with her, and when her body hits the mattress, she feels the weight of everything.

“god, i miss her so much.” megan’s voice is thick with emotion. “i wish i could go back, spend more time with her. tell her how happy she makes me, that i love her. that she’ll always be my best friend.”

lara listens attentively, rubbing a hand over her roommate’s back.

by now, you’ve stepped back. far back into the corner. her words hit you like a punch to the face. she could still tell you this, still talk to you. why had she felt the need to go back?

“those memories, though it hurts to remember, they’re the kindest ones. warm and comforting. hold them close to you, she’d want you to remember the good times.”

megan closes her eyes.

she thought the grief had been over, but now, sitting there, she felt as if this was a wound she’d never heal from.

this torment, agony, it took up space. space she didn’t have room for.

₊˚🎧⊹♡

[friday, 04:20am]

it was late and dark, the air chilly.

there was a large commotion that rang through the streets of megan’s childhood home. she had heard them from outside through her bedroom windows, frowning lightly.

megan looked out her window across the street. your undrawn curtains greeted her, giving her a clear view of your bedroom. the light was off, the room vacant and had no sign of you. she slowly searched for her phone in her bed, wondering where you were at this time of night.

maybe you were in the bathroom? perhaps doing your nightly routine. but megan knew you well, she knew you’d always leave your room light on when getting ready for bed.

she typed out a message, hitting send.

she watched as the message delivered. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for her to wait on a response from you, but something gnawed at her chest, an unsettling feeling that raised her anxiety.

megan tapped on your contact to call you, the ringing loud as she held her phone against her ear. the sounds of blaring sirens distracted her for a moment and she looked away from your bedroom window.

the call went to voicemail, so megan tried again.

that dread she felt settled deeper in her chest. she rose from her bed and walked out the bedroom door, phone still tight in her grip.

when megan reached the living room, she noticed the front door was open. her brother was out for the night, so the only person to have opened the door would be her mom, but why?

her heart began to race. another unanswered call from you.

megan stepped out the door, trudging slowly. down the road, she saw flashing blue and red lights. people gathered on their front lawns, looking out in curiosity.

what the hell was happening?

megan tapped her phone to call you again. this time, she prayed for you to pick up. she thought maybe you would have the answer as to why the neighborhood was so invested in something that clearly didn’t concern them. you always kept up with street gossip, surely you would know why everyone was rattled and out their homes.

she wasn’t sure when she began to walk out into the street, but soon her legs were carrying her to the end of the road. a large group of people stood around, she tapped on a random person’s shoulder to ask them what this was all about, but the person merely shook their head and sighed.

megan quickly spotted her mom and hastily made her way over, eyes frantic. “what’s going on?” she asked. her mom looked at her with deep sorrow, and megan felt terror struck her heart.

her mom eyes were wet with unshed tears. “it’s late dear, go back home. we’ll talk in the morning.”

“talk in the morning? about what?” megan questioned, a frown present. she looked over the crowd of people. “yn isn’t answering any of my calls, and i don’t know where she is.”

“oh, megan…” her mom shakily breathed out.

she peered at megan with something that the chinese couldn’t decipher. was it pity, or was it sympathy? and why was her mom a second away from breaking out into tears?

megan’s head whirled around. she pushed past the people, ignoring the calling of her name. it was difficult to shove through the crowd, but she managed until she reached the front. she let out a huff of air. policemen stood there, trying to assist the crowd. one lightly pushed on her shoulder, his gaze stern.

“miss, you need to step back.” he told her, and megan shoved his arm away. she didn’t mean to be so rough, but no one was telling her anything, and her anxiety was slowly creeping up on her.

“i’m looking for my friend, i need to—”

“this is a private matter. for your safety, please, i need you to step back.” he said calmly, despite the glaring look megan was giving him.

she swallowed down her frustration, nodded silently, and once his attention was elsewhere, megan moved along the barricades that were set up, trying to get closer to the ambulance van that seemed to entrance everyone.

she still had yet to find you.

as she weaved past the people, megan could feel her body go cold. she wasn’t sure if it was from the cool air of the night, or the worrying feeling that seemed to grip onto her, but something was wrong.

a body was laid out on a stretcher, white sheet covering the person. she watched as a medical team rolled the stretcher towards the ambulance as quickly as they could.

then, she saw it.

the hand that hung off the side of the stretcher looked strangely familiar. megan knew every part of you, even your hands. hands that she’s held in her own, hands that caressed her face with such gentleness, hands that she’s kissed over the years from scratches of accidentally hurting yourself.

megan refused to believe it. this person wasn’t you. this person was dead, and you were alive, somewhere out in the world, alive and breathing, and certainly not the one being rolled up the ramp of the ambulance.

it couldn’t have been you. no, megan refused to let such thoughts be thrown around in her head. it was purely coincidence that tonight was the one time she couldn’t get hold of you.

it wasn’t you, right?

her breathing quickened. that dreading feeling she fought so hard to keep at bay seemed to crack through the surface.

megan pushed away the barricade, the object scraping against the road caught the attention of some of the working officers as one made their way over to her. she moved swiftly towards the van, tears beginning to gather in her eyes.

“no, no…” she mumbled, not even realizing the approaching officer. “no! god, please don’t let it be her.” a force pushed her back as an officer tried to hold her down.

“miss, you need to calm down.”

megan looked at him in scrutiny, eyes squinting together as she tried to focus her blurry vision. she vigorously fought against his hold. his voice had an authoritative tone as he spewed out words that flew past megan’s ears. a ringing echoed in her ears, disconnecting her from everything around her. her body weakened, muscles going limp as she let out a wail.

“hey, no! i need to get through. it can’t— it can’t be yn, not my yn!”

she gasped out, pushing hard against the arms that engulfed her. her throat felt dry, her mind had no other thoughts but to get to closer. she struggled, but ultimately the strength of the man overpowered her.

all the panic she felt denied her the truth, but as she looked around, she saw your mom, weeping into the arms of your dad.

time seemed to stop in that moment.

she knew then, it was you. she felt it deep inside, like her soul had been ripped from yours, like someone had teared her apart.

“YN, NO—!”

megan jolts awake with a pant, her body and clothes drenched in sweat.

her legs are tangled in the sheets, the blanket half off the bed. the room is dark, and eerily silent. she sits up, pressing a hand on her chest as she breathes deep to calm her racing heart. the chinese looks to the side to see lara laying soundlessly asleep in her own bed, unaware of the torturous dream that her roommate had just endured.

megan blinks away remaining sleep in her eyes, running a hand through her damp hair. there’s some difficulty in trying to see in the unlit room, but she manages as she slowly peels the sheet off her and gets out of bed. she saunters out the door, moving about the quiet dorm towards the kitchen.

she’s in desperate need of water, gulping it down as if she’s been deprived of it her whole life. water droplets fall down her chin and neck as she drinks messily, breathing heavy and quick through her nose. she closes her eyes to calm herself once again, but all she could see behind her eyelids was the remains of her dream.

“it happened again, didn’t it?”

megan jumps, startled. she places the glass down and looks to her right, head titling up as she stares at your ghostly figure sitting atop the counter. you’re almost transparent, a mix of white and grey glow surrounding you.

she sighs, “yeah.”

“how many times is that now this week?” you ask, frowning at her in concern.

megan shrugs lazily and walks to the sink to place the glass there. “i don’t know. i stopped keeping track.”

you don’t reply as you observe her. megan’s hands are clenched at her side, the skin of her knuckles turning white. her body is hunched over, shoulder blades peeking through the back of the t-shirt that clings to her body. she raises her hands to grip onto the edge of the counter for some form of stability, letting out a shuttered breath and swallows the swell in her throat.

“have you spoken to your mom?” your voice rings through the air, tapping your finger against your hand.

“what’s with all the questions?”

ignoring her, you continue to talk on. “you should call her. the one year mark is coming up since…” you pause, a deep sigh leaving one you realize your words. “since the night it happened.”

megan shuts her eyes. “stop talking, please.”

“okay.” you mumble somberly, averting your gaze to the floor.

guilt begins to flood in your veins. the last thing you want is to upset her further, but as you look over her, you can tell she’s barely hanging on and all you crave is to comfort her.

megan turns back around to face you, though her eyes are trained on the floor. she took in another deep breath, and walks off. she finds herself in the living room, switching on the tv in hopes to distract her mind. silently, your ghostly body follows after her.

you aren’t sure how exactly any of this was possible. to be able to still be with her, that is.

you’d returned to her three days after your death, a week before the funeral. megan rememberers how she was lying in bed, eyes to the ceiling as she pat her hoodie sleeve against her cheeks to dry them. she’d been crying nonstop. she recalled how she let out a shriek at the sight of you sitting atop her desk, as if your body hadn’t been dragged out before her eyes days prior.

at first, she thought she’d gone crazy. how the hell were you still here?

she assumed it had to be her grief stricken mind, struggling to cope with the quick and sudden loss of her best friend. but time passed on, and you stayed with her. it was difficult and a little weird at first, because how was megan supposed to explain that she could still see you? how was she supposed to answer her mom’s questions of dealing with your death when you would be sat right beside her?

it’s a weird phenomenon that to this day neither you or megan would be able to explain. still, you’re glad to be around, even if megan grew older and you were stuck at seventeen.

the sound of the friends intro playing on the screen was is heard. megan had put the volume low enough so that she wouldn’t wake anyone.

you cross your arms over your chest. “skip this episode, i hate it.”

“but it’s one of my favorites.” megan argues, keeping her stare on the screen.

“let’s just watch the next one.” you sink further into the couch, groaning out loud. your head rolls to the side as you glance up at her.

“i’m not listening to you.” she retorts and moves the remote away from you. (as if you’d be able to touch the object anyways.)

“why? because i’m dead?”

“because you’re annoying.”

you snort out a laugh, and for a brief moment megan feels a smile grace her lips.

“it’s nice to see that,” you mumble. “your pretty smile.”

megan chuckles, a larger smile forming. half of it is out of happiness, the other half from the deep sadness that settles in her heart.

seconds later, the smile drops. “i don’t have much to be happy about these days.” she responds, turning back to the tv.

“thats such a lie. didn’t your newest song just drop?” you remark, sarcastically rolling your eyes.

“yeah, but..” megan bites on her bottom lip. the show does little to distract her. “you aren’t here to experience it with me.”

“i am here.” you say, voice firm.

“not in the way i want.”

her voice goes quiet, not entirely there. trembling and hollow. the base of her throat throbs from the truth now laid out bare.

you flinch, her words soft yet razor sharp.

you look away and down at the tiny gap between yours and megan’s legs. they aren’t pressed against one another, and still, you feel the pressure of her being there.

she moves her hand down. it’s now laid out on her thigh, palm facing upwards. her fingers are flexed out, loose. slowly, unknowingly, you reach down and place your hand above hers. then, you lower it down as if you were intertwining your fingers.

your hand passes through hers. there’s nothing but cold air.

your mouth parts, breath catching on the inhale. suddenly, you felt out of place. like you didn’t know where to belong. like being here with megan hurt more than letting her go.

the rawness of the situation hits you both. megan folds into herself, crumbling. her eyes don’t water, she’d cried enough this entire week. but her body feels dark and empty and numb. and you, you’re aching. not only for yourself, but for megan too. you’re witnessing her shattering, but you can’t hold her. can’t feel her. can’t hold her up as she breaks like porcelain.

so, you sit in it.

the hurt. the grief. the misery that’s made a home in both of you.

₊˚🎧⊹♡

[saturday, 02:30pm - the anniversary]

the park bench digs into the exposed skin of megan’s legs, and the heat of the sun runs across her body. she exists, quietly, leisurely.

the outside is bright, a colorful hue that contrasts the darkness of her mind. but still, she basks in it, reminds herself that she will be okay.

you’re beside her, as always.

neither of you talk. you’d been giving her space after a long phone call she had with her mom moments prior. her mom asked how she was, told her to come home, visit your grave. megan declined, she didn’t think she had it in her. she doesn’t thinks she ever will.

the year that passed weighed dense on her shoulders. there’s an ache in her bones, a blurry picture of how she managed to make it a full year without you.

except, she’s never without you.

megan thinks, perhaps, the grief sticks to her like glue because you’re still there. perhaps, if you weren’t in this form—a ghost, a figment—she’d move on quicker, easier. but in the same thought, she doesn’t want to let you go. not yet.

not when if she were to lose you again, she’d be losing a piece of herself. permanently.

you let the time pass, not making a sound. if there was one thing about you and megan, it’s that silence was a language you were both fluent in.

but the quietness stretches further, minutes turn into hours of unspoken words.

the sun burns her skin now, blotches of red on her legs. megan breathes, deeply, fully, and exhales. this time, she releases the heaviness thats been her companion for far too long.

that pain she felt, you’d felt it too. every day. all over you. but you keep it to yourself, megan shouldn’t have to deal with your pain too.

not not.

not ever.

yall icl i had no idea how to end this one im sorry :/ also yes i edited and revised all this but if you see any typos pls excuse its like 2am rn im fried 💔💔

#im ugly crying rn #katseye #katseye imagines #megan skiendiel #megan x reader #megan skiendiel imagine #gxg

255 notes · View notes