Miguel O'Hara x Reader [one-shots]

NOT CANON [A/F] (P.II)

I WATCHED HIM stand there at the funeral, his stoic face grew even more serious. All you could see through his eyes were hurt.

I watched him stand there after the funeral. His hair was wet; so was his face— but not because of the rain.

I watched him talk to me. He played with the grass when he'd sit down on the ground and tell me about anything that was new in his life.

I watched him cry and yell. He screamed at me for leaving him. He hated me for being selfish.

I watched him as I was stuck here in some parallel universe— not alive but not dead. Everyday, he'd come to my grave, and everyday I'd scream for help, hoping he'd hear me.

Today he came. He was different. Distant.

He dropped off yellow tulips at my grave. My favorite flower. He didn't sit, he just stood in place.

"Hey, preciosa."

I close my eyes for a brief second, remembering the sweet nickname.

"This might be my last visit for a while," he said, and his voice pained me as if a million knives just went through me.

I shake my head, "Miguel, if you leave, you can't figure out a way to bring me back."

He continued, not hearing a word of what I said, "It's been a year and I'm still not over what happened. I don't think I could ever be... which is why I can't come back."

I stood in front of him, the tears rolling down my cheeks, "Please, don't. I need you here."

He still couldn't hear me. "I'm sorry, Y/N. For everything."

"Miguel!" I yell, seeing him take a few steps back, "Miguel, Please!"

"I love you."

"Wait!" I scream, running to him as I wrap my around his strong build, "Please, don't go!"

We both stop in place. That sounded weirdly loud.

He looks around confusingly.

"Y/N?" He calls my name, "Is that you?"

Oh my God. He heard that.

"Miguel!" I yell, "I'm right here!"

"Y/N?!" he runs to my gravestone, not hearing my previous sentence, "Y/N, are you there?!"

Shit, how do I do that again?!

"Miguel!" I scream, hoping it does something, "Miguel, here! It's me!"

His head drops and I hear the quickening rising and falling of his chest. He hugs my grave, his tears staining the grave a darker gray.

"I miss you so much."

I slowly walk over to him, my heart breaking into a million pieces. I can't figure out how to do it again.

I crouch down to his level and just look at him. He didn't look like he was eating much— his skin was pale and his face was bonier, along with his body. He looked unhealthy and I knew he wasn't accepting help as long as I wasn't there.

He was turning into me.

"I'm right here, baby," I whisper as I place my hand on his cheek.

He stops his actions almost immediately and looks up in my direction. His last year rolls down his cheek.

"I just heard you," he looked around again, "Y/N, where are you?"

"Miguel?!" I stand up.

"Y/N!" He stands up, his hands on his head, "It's you, right?"

"Miguel!" I laugh, smiling, "You can hear me?!"

"Yes!" He grins, wiping the tears that were on his face before, looking around, "Y/N, where are you?"

"I don't know!" I tell him, "I'm stuck here! I'm not dead but... I'm not alive. Miguel, you need to help me!"

"How long have you been here?!" He asks me, taking out a paper and pen.

"Since before I was dead," I say, "When I blacked out, all I could hear was you telling me to wake up, a-and I did, Miguel, you have to believe me! I woke up! I woke up for you!"

"I believe you!" he looks up after he writes down some notes, "You were just here when you died?"

"Yes," I nod, looking up at him, "I watched them put my gravestone here and I watched you. I watched you everyday for the entire year, Miguel. I spoke back and I hugged you. Everyday for a year."

He puts his hand over his mouth, covering his slightly open mouth.

"I'm gonna get you out of there, Y/N. Mark my words."

He looks down, remembering our height difference.

"Am I looking at you?"

"Yes," I chuckle, my hand on his cheek, "Yes, you are."

His teary eyes grow happier.

"I promise I'll get you out."