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when i awoke, dear, i was mistaken (so i hung my head, and cried)

Summary:

Her jokes, her laugh, her voice. He'd never hear any of it again. The way she used to hit him on the shoulder when he said something stupid. The way she cheered for him when he was proud of something. The way she was always there if he needed someone to cry on.

 

Everything was just…gone. Never to be seen again.

-or-
Night finally manages to get up!! But—uh oh—he blames himself

Work Text:

Night had finally managed to get up.

 

His house was a mess–dishes were scattered everywhere, dirty clothes were strewn across the floor wherever he had happened to be, trash he hadn't cleaned still littered the area.

 

He didn't have the energy to clean it.

 

 Sometimes Chaos would come over and cheer him up, but then she'd leave and he'd be reminded of what he had lost.

 

It wasn't fair, he decided. There hadn't been any reason for her to die. She hadn't done anything. And yet, she had been taken anyways.

 

He tried to go to the store, one time, but he got there and nearly broke down because everything reminded him of the memories. He'd been ordering off an app since.

 

The memories…

 

Her jokes, her laugh, her voice. He'd never hear any of it again. The way she used to hit him on the shoulder when he said something stupid. The way she cheered for him when he was proud of something. The way she was always there if he needed someone to cry on.

 

Everything was just…gone. Never to be seen again.

 

He cried sometimes. He'd cry because he was never going to see her again. Never going to hear her voice. Never going to watch her grow up.

 

Most of the time, though, he just felt empty. There was a void he hadn't realized she had filled, and with her gone it was prominent.

 

Night felt broken. Shattered like her body had been when the truck hit her. He could still feel her blood on his hands. His arms.

 

God–why hadn't he saved her? He could've done something. Actually applied pressure, tried applying a tourniquet, stopped her from pushing him out the way– something .

 

And now she was gone. She was gone because of his incompetence. She was gone because all he had done was sat around while she bled out.

 

It was all his fault. All of this was his fault.

 

Sometimes, he'd stare at his phone, waiting for a call to hangout that'd never come. Sometimes, he'd stare at the door, waiting for someone to walk in that never would. Sometimes, he'd just pray that everything was just a nightmare.

 

He was so stupid . Why hadn't he done more? He could've prevented this, but he didn't.

 

He hated himself. He hated himself so badly. This was all his fault.

 

Night cried. Night cried for someone he could've saved. He cried for someone he'd never see again.



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