Evan Peters Imagines and One Shots

Biggest Regret Pt. 3

"Hurry up and get her out of my cellar," Edward roared.

"Come on, this is the only safe spot for her, and she's not bothering you," Rory argued.

I wanted to cry; he was more pale than before, but he didn't change. Rory stood face-to-face with the eyeless ghost who had just tried to attack me. The two spirits had a stare-off before one spoke again.

"This is my cellar, no," Edward argued, "Who told you to come down here as well?"

"When I heard your whining, I figured I needed to save someone," Rory mocked, "I didn't expect it to be her, though."

Rory turned to look at me. I couldn't believe my eyes, I knew everything was true about the ghosts of Roanoke, but I wasn't truly prepared. He turned back to Edward and placed a hand on his shoulder. Mott gave him a disgusted look in return; he swiped Rory's hand off of him.

"Ah, so I take it you know this woman," Edward responded, "Well since you know her so well, you can get out of my cellar and take her with you."

"Come on, Mott," Rory begged, "I didn't nail your role in my show for you to treat me like this. I made you more famous. You owe me."

"I will admit most people choose to die outside now whether than bothering me down here because of it," Edward confessed, "Fine, you two can hide down here, but stay on this side. I will be over there, and do not even think about bothering me."

"Thank you, dude," Rory thanked.

"Hmpf," Mott scoffed, "Be happy you're already dead."

The powdered wig-wearing ghost turned and began to fade away, walking in the opposite direction as he did so. Rory turned back to me. I missed his brown eyes staring n my mind, whether it be with ill intent or not. He looked at me with disappointment, but I couldn't care. I reached to touch him; he was solid. I expected my hand to go through him. He shook his head.

"Why are you down here, Y/n," Rory fussed, "Better yet, why are you in Roanoke? I know you saw what happened to me. Why would you bring your stupid ass down here? You could've died. You couldn't be that much a Roanoke fan to have come here?"

I ignored his questions and insults as tears fell down my cheeks.

"I can't believe you're here," I cried, "I never thought I'd see you again. I missed you."

He placed his hand on the back of my head and pulled me into his chest; I bawled my eyes out onto the fabric of his clothes as he squeezed me tighter.

"Leave it to you to be this stupid, huh," Rory choked.

I could hear it in his voice; he wanted to cry but tried to play tough.

"I thought you never wanted to see me again," he said.

"I hate myself for letting you come back down here," I admitted, "Every day is a battle knowing you're not here anymore. Those words are my biggest regret, Rory."

His lips pressed against the top of my head.

"I hate that I had to die for you to say that," he burst into tears.

"I regret saying it when you were in your car heading to the airport," I admitted, "Dead or alive, when you left, I wasn't happy. My feelings for you were far from hatred. I loved you."

I pulled away from him and reached into my pocket. He watched as I brought out my wallet with the picture of a scene from the movie that he never got to see released. We filmed for over a year, only for him to not be able to see it.

"The movie made us superstars," I sniffled, "I know you were wondering, but I can't help but think your death is what skyrocketed sales. You're household name now, like James Dean."

"You're kidding," he chuckled, "See, I told my mom I'd make it. I'd guess that would make you Audrey Hepburn, huh?"

"I guess so," I laughed.

"You know what that means, right," he asked.

His lips were on mine before I could answer. It was the same feeling as the first; it let us know we had found our one. Unfortunately, my one was dead and trapped in this burial ground forever. We locked lips for what seemed to be hours; time stood still when his body pressed against mine. He pulled away and took a deep breath.

"We need to get you out of here," he said, "It's not safe."

"I have an idea," I commented, "What if I stay?"

He looked at me with confusion in his eyes. His reaction was more than valid; who voluntarily wants to stay in a walking cemetery?

"What, Y/n, no," he argued.

"Hear me out," I explained, "We both know I know this place like the back of my hand; each ghost, each area, and I know when to leave. When the moon is about to turn red, I could get lost- or you could talk to Mott and get him to let me crash down here. Other than that, you could protect me at all times. We could be together finally. We could build our future; knock down that burnt building and build a new one- a mansion. Plus, I met a couple of witches down in Louisiana during our movie tour; they'd be more than happy to bless and put some protection on the house- keep the bad spirits outside."

"That idea is stupid, but it could work," he admitted, "Besides, I won't be the only one to protect you. There's still Shelby, Matt, Aubrey, and everyone else- and they remember giving you autographs. They seemed to like you."

"Really," I gasped.

"Yeah, I mentioned you a lot," he chuckled, "It's lonely being a ghost."

"So, what do you say," I asked.

"When this all blows over, I'm finding the others," he said, "This place will be ours. I don't know many people willing to drive you up and down these roads, though."

"For the right amount of money- and clout, I think I've met just the person," I laughed.