Bill Skarsgård Imagines

she's gone | bill

"I love you, (Y/N). I will always love you," Bill muttered, holding her limp hand in his as he showered it with kisses.

He waited at her bedside while the cancer began to succeed at taking her life. The machines slowly beeped as she lay, nearly lifeless, in the hospital bed. The nurses and doctors decided to leave the two alone in their final moments together, knowing there was nothing more they could do to make it better.

She wasn't responsive, which made Bill's heart break even more than it already was. He felt as though he didn't get enough time with her. He worried that he didn't tell her how much he loved her as much as he should have. There was so much more he wanted to say and do with her and he knew the guilt would forever remain with him.

As her heart rate slowed, the machines did too. The sobs were uncontrollable as they left him, the tears streaming down from his emerald eyes and staining his pale cheeks.

"(Y/N), I love you so much," he repeated like a mantra, hoping she could hear him before it was too late.

Bill then felt (Y/N)'s hand give his a gentle squeeze, as if giving him her final goodbye. Shocked, he looked up at her face which held no emotion. Her eyes were closed with the breathing tube attached to her mouth and she looked tired in the most angelic way.

"Goodbye, my love. I'll see you again," he whispered, his brows furrowed as he gently caressed her cheek.

Suddenly, the line flattened and she was gone.

He erupted in tears, not being able to hold back as he lay his head on her stomach, holding her in his arms one last time.  

1 Year Later

It was Christmas morning, his first Christmas without her. It felt wrong not having her with him. Of course it would, she was his wife, his forever soulmate. She still was, just not in person anymore. Sluggishly, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He looked over his shoulder to the side where she used to lay, remembering the previous Christmas' where she'd be the first awake, jumping on top of him with glee, giving him his first gift.

That wasn't the case anymore.

He got up and drew the curtains, revealing the dismal day. Snow blanketed the ground as the grey clouds took up the sky.  He put on the flannel she got him the previous year, the one she loved to wear around the house because it smelled like him. He knew she bought it for the sole purpose of wearing it herself, that thought put a small smile on his face.

After getting dressed and having a small breakfast, he laced up his boots and began on his way through the crisp, early morning, towards the cemetery where she was buried.

The field of gravestones seemed to go on for miles as he made his way towards hers. In his hand he carried a bottle of her favorite scotch. It was a tradition of theirs, every Christmas morning started with a glass of scotch, mainly to get them ready for the family brunches they'd have to attend.

He made his way to her stone then stopped before it.

Here Lay (Y/N) (Y/L/N)
A Loving Wife, Daughter, and Friend
Gone but Never Forgotten

He knew she wouldn't like how tacky her gravestone was, but because of how depressed he became after her death, he let her parents choose what it said. Clearly regretting that decision now.

He opened the bottle, pouring it into two glasses and placing one on the stone while holding the other in his hand.

"Merry Christmas, (Y/N)," he said, raising his glass before taking a swig of the brown liquid. The burning sensation as it slid down his throat was one both him and (Y/N) enjoyed.

He finished his drink as he went on talking to her about the past year and what it had been like without her. By the end of the one way conversation, a few tears had escape his eyes, the warm droplets burning against his flushed skin.

"Here," a soft voice then spoke from beside him, a steaming mug being held before him.

He looked over to see a young woman, about the same age as (Y/N) would have been, bundled up in her winter gear, handing him the mug. "You look like you need it, no offense," she said with a kind smile, her eyes holding empathy.

"T-Thanks," he replied, unsure of what to say as he took the mug.

"It's hot cocoa with a little something special," she noted. He nodded, taking a sip. He then almost choked at how strong it was.

"A lot of something special," he joked. She laughed. "I like it that way," she said, taking a sip of hers without a problem. Bill admired her for that.

"I'm Alida," she introduced, extending her mitten covered hand. Bill hesitated then took it, shaking it gently.

"Bill," he replied.

"I'm sorry for your loss," she then said, looking down at the gravestone with him. He didn't say anything as he fought back tears.

"My daughter's over there," she informed, pointing towards the other end of the cemetery. His heart then sank for her. Judging by how old Alida seemed to be, her daughter couldn't have been that old.

"Cancer's a fucking bitch," she stated.

"It really is," he added, looking down at Alida as she held her gaze towards her daughter's grave.

She then looked up at him. "Sorry for interrupting your time with your wife," she began, assuming based on the wedding band he had on his left hand. "I just don't think anyone should be alone on Christmas. It's kind of the law," she informed.

He chuckled. "I agree," he said.