Forever we shall be // Ghostbur x reader

Chapter 3

Purgatory is a blood bath, though nobody bleeds. It didn't stop you from trying. Gnashing teeth, through which you spit vicious insults, decades spent holding onto resentments and misguided desires until they festered and rotted you from the inside out.

In purgatory, you've learned to hate the things you loved, the ones you'd died for.

On the surface, there's something shamefully selfish curling in your chest at the talk of resurrection. You've never trusted your past self, too self aware by half, but the same cannot be said for Ghostbur. No-one loves the former President as much as you, the wedding ring made of sapphire that sat delicately on your left hand was proof enough of that, but you'd come to love and adore who he was now, rather than who you remember him to be. But you wouldn't begrudge his choice to be revived. So you keep your mouth shut, and hold his hand tight and hope he can't sense the fear crawling back into your heart.

But the scary thing is that the moment the fear eases, the moment you find yourself at ease, your forget that you were even afraid, you forget what had made you afraid.

Nights where you think you can feel your phantom heartbeat in your throat, trying not to look at ghost that shares your bed, the man you'd married, who's been painted gold by your touch. Neither of you really needs sleep the same way the living do, but habit is a hard thing to break. Breathing even and gentle, you know even now that he can't remember the pain he'd caused the others, but you can't forget. The fear holds you hostage in the moment, in the night, until you finally fall asleep; you awake without the memory of what had kept you up the night before.

He speaks of resurrection, and every time it's as if you're hearing it for the first time; neither of you seem to understand why, though admittedly, it's for different reasons.

It takes a while for anyone to really notice beyond just your forgetfulness; you were a tranquil ghost, at least compared to who you used to be. So you tell Ghostbur that you love who he is, who he's become, and he smiles so fondly you're almost positively he doesn't realise the truth of what you mean by that. You'll remember you told him you love him, but you won't remember why.

Ghostbur doesn't seem to know quiet how to feel, but he's not opposed, so you won't stop him, you won't voice the desires that feels so selfish. Fingers laced with his, you press your lips to the back of his hand as you listen to him discuss which items should be collected to revive him. When he looks to you, gaze soft and full of question, you tell him you love him.

As plans for attempts solidify themselves, the fear grows roots, has your heart in a chokehold. There's holes in your memory now, sometimes even days at a time; it's different than before, different than when you'd woken up as a ghost. The fear that had died with you was the fear of the people you loved being taken from you. This was a new fear, this was a fear you couldn't fight through, this was the fear of Ghostbur choosing to leave you. You wouldn't stop him if it's what he wanted, but you couldn't even stomach the thought.

I love you and I'm sorry, you want to tell him; he and Phil had been talking about the resurrection last night and you hadn't been able to get the thought of it out of your head since. Instead you gaze down at your joined hands, and the wedding rings you both wear. I'm scared the version of you that comes back won't love me the way you do now. You can't look him in the eyes.

"You alright, my love?" His voice, so warm and sweet and concerned, just the sight of his gentle smile when you look to his face is enough to have the fear in your chest dissipating.

"Of course; I'm with you," you tell him in earnest, giving his hand a squeeze. You can't even remember why he may have been concerned about you in the first place.