🖤 -ˏˋ⋆ ᵂᴬᴷᴱ ᵁᴾ. ⋆ˊˎ- 🤍

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"Luther, do something!" Randal cried out. Randal stared down at Y/n with tears in his eyes as he held her close to him. "You have to hurry before she leaves again...! Please!" He begged. It's as if his words fell on death's ears as everyone stared at him. Why were they just standing there? Why weren't they making any moves to help her? Were they so that heartless where they didn't even want to lift a finger? "WHY ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE!?"

"Randal. There's nothing we can do." Luther said. He reached out to try to take Y/n'a cold body away from Randal but he slapped his hands away. "Randal," Luther said in a more serious tone but Randal couldn't care less.

"She's DYING! It's all your fault!" Randal's voice was a raw, guttural roar, each word searing through the air like molten fire. He gazed down at her, his heart-wrenching at the sight. The void that had once been a mere shadow now consumed her entire body, obliterating every trace of the skin that had been so familiar. Her features were barely discernible, swallowed by the relentless darkness. The sight of her suffering, once again in the grips of this nightmarish transformation, was almost too much to bear. Randal's chest tightened with a suffocating anguish, a gnawing reminder of his helplessness. "You all act like she's invisible like she doesn't even matter!" His voice cracked, thick with desperation and fury. "I'm done convincing myself that you care about her! I'm DONE!" The words exploded from him, each one a desperate plea for recognition and justice, underscoring his profound frustration and sorrow.

"That's enough out of you," Luther responded with a slight heat in his tone. He was trying to keep his composure but it was impossible when Randal was acting out like this. "You have to realize-"

"NO! YOU HAVE TO REALIZE THAT SHE HAS FEELINGS TOO!"

"She is nothing more than a fragment from your mind," Luther admitted bitterly. The tension in the room grew as Randal stared back at his brother with widened eyes. "You keep clinging to this fantasy, conjuring him from the depths of your imagination to make it seem like she's there. But she's not real—she's a figment, a mirage that has no place in our world. She exists only in the confines of your mind, a mere illusion, and deep down, you know it. You're the one who imposes these horrors upon her, who thrusts her into these nightmarish scenarios. If there's anyone responsible for her suffering, it's you. You are the architect of her torment, the one who perpetuates her agony. Your delusions are suffocating her, and every moment you perpetuate this fantasy, you drive her further into oblivion."

Randal sat motionless, his body frozen in numb paralysis as he stared at his brother, struggling to process the weight of the words he had just heard. The room seemed to close in around him, every breath he took thick with disbelief and pain. How could his brother stand there so detached, a cold mask of indifference on his face, as if the harsh, cutting accusations he had just delivered were nothing more than casual conversation? The nonchalance with which he spoke was a knife twisting in Randal's heart. He was utterly unmoved, oblivious to the devastation unfolding around him. Meanwhile, Y/n lay there, vulnerable and silent, the gravity of her plight hanging heavily in the air. It was as if the very presence of her suffering was invisible to his brother.

"You're just jealous. All of you are. You're jealous because I have someone who I can call a friend. Because I have a one-way ticket to becoming more human than you'll ever be." Randal boasted. He could see Luther's shoulders tense at the sound of that which added to the inner turmoil within Randal.

"Randal—"

"Y/n loves me."

...

"I bet she does, in your imagination."

Randal fell silent, his words hanging in the air like a heavy fog. He stood amidst a crowd of people whose indifference pierced him deeper than he cared to admit. These were individuals who lacked the empathy to understand or appreciate what mattered so profoundly to him. They dismissed his concerns as though they were trivial, tossing them aside with a casual disregard that felt almost cruel. In their eyes, Y/n was nothing more than a forgotten scrap, something to be discarded without a second thought. But to Randal, Y/n was far from that. Y/n represented something precious and irreplaceable—a connection and a bond he cherished with every fiber of his being. The dismissive attitude of those around him only intensified his sense of isolation and anger, leaving him to grapple with the sting of their cold dismissal and the profound sense of betrayal it engendered. Randal looked down at Y/n, whose once beautiful features were overlapped by a void, and was now wiped away. Then, he looked back up at Luther who hadn't made any physical changes in his expression. He was sick of looking at his brother's blank expression, holding Y/n close to him as he took her with him away from the stares of his so-called family.

As he reached his room, he gently laid Y/n back on her bed, gazing at her with a longing and hopeful expression, as though he was yearning for a miracle to occur.

He let out a shaky sigh as he watched dark, shadowy particles drift away from her body in slow, agonizing wisps. The sight was all too familiar, yet it never grew any easier to bear. Each drifting particle seemed to siphon away a part of her essence, and though he knew deep down that he was powerless to prevent her fading, the ache of helplessness gnawed at him. The thought of touching her was unbearable; even the slightest contact would hasten her dispersal, a fact that shattered his heart with each passing second. He longed to hold her close, to anchor her to the moment, but the cruel reality was that his touch would only accelerate her departure. The desire to keep her with him, to defy the inexorable pull of her fading existence, tore at him with profound intensity, leaving him tormented by the unbearable urgency of letting go.

Randal watched in anguished silence as Y/n's body slowly disintegrated, her spirit seeming to unravel from the earthly ties that had bound her and soon touch the face of God. As her body lay still and frail on the bed, he sank beside her, his strength crumbling like dust. His tears mingled with the quiet sobs that escaped him, as he stared at the pale, lifeless features of the girl he had desperately tried to save.

"I'm so sorry," he choked out, his voice barely a whisper, laden with raw, unrelenting sorrow. "I tried. I tried my best for you." Each word trembled, imbued with a deep, profound sense of failure. His self-reproach was palpable as he gazed at her, the realization crashing over him like a cold, unyielding wave. "You're right. Y-You've been right all along." His admission was like a dagger to his own heart. "I will never meet your expectations, no matter how hard I try." The weight of his inadequacy pressed heavily upon him, and he could almost feel the cold grip of hopelessness tightening around his chest. In the quiet of the room, every breath he took seemed to carry the unbearable weight of his despair, as he grappled with the crushing truth that his efforts had not been enough to keep her here, with him.

"I don't want to wake up."

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