ur the twst mc but ur dead

dni if ur alive

a/n: i SAID trein supremacy. he's the only one who's old enough (apart from bitchbird old man crowley) to have been around when the reader died so im focusing on him a lot too :) and bc we rarely see him anywhere even tho he's probably rlly cool

and hey deuce lovers this one's for u :)

You were stumped on what to do next.

You'd just been found out by a couple of fresh-faced first-years who were probably pissing their pants over seeing your form through that damned camera, and you were sure that they'd be back to sleuth you out of a dorm and expose your existence to the rest of the school.

On one hand, you could pretend like this never happened. You could ignore them if they came back and hide from that stupid camera, or even slip the pictures out of their pockets when they're not looking and hide them away forever. You could go back to lurking in the shadows, watching everyone else live their lives while you waste away in this cycle year by year, and that would be the best option because you wouldn't be causing anyone any trouble and everything would go back to normal, and the most that those two boys would get would be a slap on the wrist and a lecture from Dorm Leader Rosehearts over their indecent behavior.

On the other...no one had seen you in about a decade. Since your death, you haven't let anyone see you—not since you tried to talk to that poor student, who spent the next month going in and out of the infirmary with a therapist each day in between classes to talk to about what he'd seen, which was you, and which had had a devastating effect on Trein.

The moment that student burst into the lecture room,  white in the face and rambling about the dead prefect he'd just seen, your heart broke at the flash of pure grief  on Trein's face before it settled back into a stony mask. 

He'd ordered that student to cease spouting that nonsense because you were dead  and it was rude  to try and taint their memory as a cruel joke, but he'd still passed the distressed student onto another professor and left his class.

You'd followed Trein down the hallway, floating by his side and listening to the sharp click of his heels against the stone floor and trying to make any emotion out on his face other than just the grim blankness that had settled there at the first utter of your name.

He walked all the way back to his office, where he'd slammed the door shut in your face. You passed right through it, peeking at his form, hunched over his desk and grabbing the corners with a grip so tight his knuckles were pale with tension while his back heaved with labored breaths.

You'd wanted nothing more than to materialize and give your old professor the reassurance that he needed because dear Seven, it hurt  watching him have to go through something like this on his own.

Before you could do that, Trein grabbed a book and launched it across the room, watching as it shattered the glass of a cabinet that held nothing but files in it.

You flinched at the impact, unaware that your previous professor had enough strength to break something by throwing a book  at it. You're not prepared for him to do it again, letting out a pained, strangled yell.