#this is NOT ect.ofeat/ure

[cobraghost]

“... Why did it have to be me? ” The ghost cried, teal tears streaking down his cheeks. Its funny, in a fucked up sort of way -- even though he can't usually feel much heat, the way the ectoplasm bubbled on his lashes still burned. His vision blurred with the thick, globby tears obstructing his view. Everything stung. His breathing -- if you could even call it that -- was wet and shaky, his whole body trembling as the room around him grew dark. 

 “It's not fair. Its not fair. I ... I was -- I was on the r-right track for once..” his words weren't wailed, nor were they dramatic. It was raw sadness -- quiet, just like Billy Joe never was. Dark black eyes stared at his palms -- they didn’t look particularly see-through at the moment, but he’s still reminded he’s just a ghost now. He can barely be seen by anyone -- and nobody knows his pain. He’s still as alone as the day he died.

Upon coming to this realization, Billy He tried to wipe his tears away to hide his shame and sadness. One wipe became two, two became four, and it wasn't long before he was furiously trying to rub away his tears. But the more he failed, the harder he cried -- til eventually, he gave up. His hands cup around his face, head hung low and bangs hiding sorrowful eyes. His shoulders continued to shudder, and he collapsed to his knees. 

He barely had the energy to support himself, even if he was just sitting up. He was so tired -- and ashamed to let anyone see this side of him, let alone Spencer. Spencer was just a kid, he didn't need the weight of his trauma on his shoulders. He shouldn't need to comfort him. And yet, here he was. A pathetic, miserable portrait forever frozen in time, unable to move on. Spencer apprehensively approached him, placing a hand on his back. 

“Billy? I .. Know how tough this must be on you, but you really shouldn’t pent it all up. It’s okay if you need to let it out.” 

“I don’t understand why it had to .... why did it have to be me? It's not fair..” He croaked under his breath, yet again. His head tipped further down, long fingers brushing through his bangs and messing up his picture-perfect hair. 

“No, it isn't fair. You … didn't deserve what happened to you. I don’t know what happened, or why, but I do know that the world isn’t always .. rational.” 

 “I was twenty-four. I barely got to live.”

Spencer propped Billy up, and even though he didn't want to -- even though his body felt unusually heavy, he still complied. His voice cracked harder with every spoken word -- never had he let himself be more vulnerable to anyone than in this moment. Even though it was embarassing, even though he should know better than to speak up on what he felt. Since when should his feelings matter? Inside, he was tearing apart -- everything crashing over him in a tsunami of negative emotions.

 “Things were just getting better, Spence. I ..”

Spencer pried his hands away from his face, and yet, Billy still didn't have the courage to look up. It was only when his palms reached out and tried to wipe his tears away that he opened his eyes. His vision, though still a bit blurry with the tears that just wouldn't stop flowing, could make out one troubled looking Spencer. 

Before he could say another word, the kid hugged him. His arms looped under Billy Joe's, around his torso -- pulling him close enough that the ghost could bury his face in his neck. And thats just what he did -- his lips quivered, and his head fell right into that spot. His arms coiled tightly around the brunette -- not tight enough that he couldn't breathe, but certainly tight enough that he wasn't gonna be able to let go anytime soon. 

Billy Joe Cobra, after five years of refusing to face the music, finally grieved for the life he never got to have.