𝕭𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝕮𝖔𝖓 𝕷𝖆 𝕷𝖚𝖓𝖆 | Prosciutto X Fem!Reader

☁13☁

There was a corpse on the moon, and the ghost of it haunted the stars in innocent wonder. Lady had a name, and it was (Y/n), the astronaut cursed to walk the outer wilds of space forever. 

Bubbled tears glossed with grief rolled out of (Y/n)s eyes in a stream of pearls, melting and compressing into the stars that soon adorned her hair just as before. "I couldn't breathe."

"What do you mean, you couldn't breathe?" Ghiaccio asked, the discovery of the body leaving him shambled with questions.

"I just couldn't breathe, I don't know what happened."

His eyes drift to the tube connected to the body's back, floating limply in the perfect silence of space. An oxygen tank.

"How long have you been up here? How did you--"

"I don't know, I don't know anything, I just didn't want to be lonely anymore." She sobbed. "You shouldn't even be up here. You could get hurt."

"That doesn't matter, I'm here now, and I-- The team wants you back down there."

"I can't go, because you'll get hurt, and then Risotto will be right; I don't want him to be right."

"He already confessed, and I want to make it clear that whatever he told you was bullshit. Let's just get back down there so we can talk about this."

There came along an awkward silence, though not awkward in the way that no one knew what else to say-- rather, it was merely that there was still an obvious something that had yet to be said, even if the both of them already knew.

"I'm dead, aren't I?"  

Ghiaccio pressed his lips into a flat line. There it was, that something that was as simple as ever, yet impossible to say. 

"Yeah, you're... You're dead. I think." He sighed. "But dead or not, you still made everyone's life a little less miserable, and I know this might be selfish, but I want you to come back down with me."

There was a hint of shame in her expression, a light note of ignominy that was nearly invisible unless you'd search for it. Here on the moon, where angels fear to tread, the crescent moon would slowly forget its shape as the undead truth of (Y/n) would consume its ashen body.

A ghost haunting the moon, what a peculiar thing, isn't it? It comes, and goes, with its waxing and waning form blooming across the sky when it pleased, as a haunting plagues its dimpled face.

"Everyone misses you," He tried to reason, bringing himself to his feet. "Prosciutto especially."

It was best to not mention that he'd fallen off a roof trying to get to her himself, though he had no doubt that somehow, someway, (Y/n) already knew.

"He shouldn't."

"But he does."

"But he shouldn't. I'm a distraction that might lead him to his death."

"That fact that you aren't there is distraction enough. If you could just please, please come back with me, we can talk about everything. All that you'd left is still there waiting, all you have to do is just say yes."

The gentle tune of the music box continued to plink away its little song in the background, filling in the silence that once again came to infect their conversation. 

Around them, the distant suns twinkled gently, thoughtfully, and Ghiaccio amused himself with the idea of them representing her conflicting thoughts, the gears turning in her ghastly mind. 

"And what if I don't?" She managed to say.

"Then I'll wait here until you do."

"You wouldn't."