How do I say goodbye?
≽^•⩊•^≼
two
Billie's pov
It doesn't surprise me when I realize you've fallen asleep. I can't even begin to imagine the stress you have been through these days and I can't help feeling guilty for having let you go. I mean, unlike me, what other choice did you have? I should have come up with a better solution, maybe let your grandpa stay at my house, our house, for example.
It took me two torturous weeks to realize my mistake. I simply can't do without you. That's what happens once you get a taste of heaven and it's abruptly taken away from you. It's intolerable to say the least. Now that I'm finally here for you 24/7, your grandpa is gone. Fate deals some people a rotten hand. He stands in the middle of the room, fidgeting and looking confused.
I suck in a shaky breath, pondering about how to deal with this situation. My stomach is twisting and turning in the meantime. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around your waist a bit tighter and lay my cheek on top of your head. Closing my eyes for a brief moment, I let out a sigh.
Your grandpa takes a glance at you, a small smile tugs at his lips enjoying the view of your peaceful sleep. Probably the first in a long time. But there's also pain in his eyes, I get to see it once I look up and meet his gaze. Deep down he knows to be dead, however, with a dazed look, he asks me to be sure. I simply nod my head, nibbling on my bottom lip.
"So, I—", your grandpa's voice catches my attention. His eyebrows are knitted together, as he speaks, "I'm some sort of ghost, now?", a small smile tugs at my lips. I cock an eyebrow and tilt my head to the side, "Kind of, yes," he scratches his head, letting out a long sigh. "Well at least I can still see my legs and I'm not some sort of white sheet with two eye-holes cut out," his attempt to be humorous out of all this is genuinely admirable.
I let out a soft chuckle, although I can sense my eyes brimming with fresh tears. Lightly shaking my head, I later add how deeply sorry I am that he's passed away. I wonder if he has felt any pain, yet a part of me believes that it doesn't really matter now, considering it's over. His pain, his illness, his stillness. All of it. "That's fine, Billie. I had already prepared myself for this." I give him a hesitant nod of my head, then my eyes dart towards you again.
My heart aches for you, so small, so fragile and unaware of the news. I rack my fingertips through your hair, combing some locks behind your ears. Carefully, I shift slightly to lay you down on the couch. You don't take notice of anything. I gently cup your cheek, before getting up from the spot, giving full attention to your grandpa. "She is worn out," he mutters lowly.
I look behind my shoulder and scoff, "We are talking about y/n here. Nothing could stop her from taking care of you," I grin and point out, "not even me." Your grandpa lets out a silent chuckle at my words. It doesn't take long, however, until his expression turns serious again. His frown visibly grows and his lips stir in a grimace. "She can't hear me nor see me, right?", I shake my head in response. "Sadly no, but I can help you talk to her. I'm here for you, both of you," I reach out to touch his arm, gently grazing my thumb on it.
"I'll only break her heart again," his voice comes out in a whisper. "I can't bear the thought of making her suffer no more than she already has." I inhale sharply, nibbling the inside of my cheek. The house turns into the shell of his distress. "Maybe I should stay home." I frown and shake my head promptly. "I understand that all you want is to protect her. I've met many like you. Souls that never wanted to cross over because of unfinished businesses. She is yours," he averts his gaze on you. When he squints his eyes, tears immediately stream down his face.
"I need to know she will be okay," he mumbles. That's when I give him the most sincere smile I can perform. Taking both his hands in mine, I offer him a squeeze, "It will take time but she most certainly will. I promise you, I won't leave her side." Looking into my eyes, he seems to find the honestly he was looking for. Another chuckle, this time an incredulous one comes out of him. He can't wrap his head around the fact that he is dead now. "Jesus, this is just— crazy!"
"I believe there is no better way to describe it," giggling to myself, he scoffs, agreeing with me. In that moment, you stir in the sleep, mumbling some incoherent words. The sound of your voice leads both your grandpa and I to avert our focus towards you. He places a hand upon my shoulder and says, "I know she is a woman now, yet all I see is my sweet niece that laughs loudly while bouncing on my lap."
I melt at the image just offered by him. I'm sure you were the cutest child to exist: little freckles all over your cheeks, a wide smile and a contagious enthusiasm for life pictured in those beautiful eyes.
"It's perfectly normal. She will always be your child, but I promise you, I'll guard her with my life. Always," his thumb traces small patterns over my shoulder. He leans forward and says, "I don't know if it's because I'm a ghost now, but I can tell you're telling the truth." His eyes brim with emotion, and so do mine. Then I watch him get close to you. He kneels down to meet your face at the same height. I stay one step behind, pushing the tears back as much as I can.
He delicately brushes his fingertips over your forehead. You seem to feel it, as a small smile tugs at your lips. Then he leans further to place a kiss on your cheek. Your eyelids tremble a little, your eyes underneath roam back and forth. I frown a little and when your grandpa pulls away, you mumble, "Pops...need help, I'm .. Billie, stay...", you are saying incoherent words, probably enveloped in a dream that holds everything you've been feeling.
My heart cracks at the sound of your distress. Even your grandpa frowns as a sad expression darkens his features. I come up close to you and gently stroke your cheek with the back of my hand, "It's okay, babydoll. You hear me?" I coo in a pained whisper. In the meantime your grandpa has moved away. You go back to a more peaceful sleep, once I've muttered some soothing words to you. I plant a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose before facing your very upset grandfather again.
"Billie, how do I say goodbye without breaking her?", pain is invading his head and the room's atmosphere changes accordingly. "I don't think I can do this," he pauses and my heart starts drumming loudly inside my chest. I wish there was a way to make it pain free. But there really isn't. "I'm not going to tell you it won't hurt her, because that is a lie," a bitter chuckle erupts from his lips at that. It doesn't discourage me, "But I can tell you, it's the right thing to do."
He snorts and starts pacing back and forth with a nervous and tense posture. I call out his name but he ignores me, ignores you, literally on the edge. "Trust me, I know," my voice comes out firmer and stricter than intended, but it does its job because he comes to a halt and then looks at me. He appears like a child that has just been scolded by his mother. I soften my gaze, reaching a hand toward him.
"Tell her goodbye," my voice is shaking and I no longer hold back my tears. He look straight in my eyes, before shutting them. "I can't," he murmurs sadly, "Yes, you can" I insist, almost beg actually. "She is here for you, has always been... don't leave her without saying goodbye," I see him vacillate at my words. He rubs his face and lets out a guttural sound, "Tell her you love her," I insist, refusing to give up on such a thing.
While he's still hesitant, I turn around and go back to you. Halfheartedly, I give you a light shake, muttering your name at the same time. Your grandpa dredges up a scowl, "Please, Billie—", he is afraid of so many things, his figure looks less clear to me, as if he was tempted to disappear. I don't listen to him and focus on you: my heart and hope. My little dove that did her absolute best to guarantee her grandfather a decent old age.
"Mhm," that's all you manage to say, before rubbing your eyes tiredly. "Why are you doing this?", he asks in despair. I smooth your hair and give you a soft smile, ignoring your grandpa's protests, "Sweet girl, hi," when a small sleepy smile cracks on your lips, I can't help but reciprocate it. "How long was I out?", you ask, yawning right after that. I can tell by the look in your eyes, you'd have slept for much longer.
"Just for a little while," I say, my voice wavering with emotion, "We need to talk," tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, you frown without a nod or reply. Not yet at least. But I know you, doubts and questions are already bottling up in that pretty head of yours. "Sure, what is it?", you ask under your breath. There is no nice way to tell you this, the sole thought breaks me. When you spot that I've been crying, your expression drops, "Wait, what is going on?"
When a single tear falls on your cheek, I immediately hush you and reach out a hand towards your pretty face, to wipe it away. "Please, don't cry. It's going to be alright, I promise you." I'm aware my voice sounds partially bitter, and you notice it too. I bite my inner cheek, mentally scolding myself for this. You need me. I need to be strong for you. "I want you to know that you did all you could, and I'm not just saying it. It's true."
A brief silence follows, useful to collect your thoughts and give you the time to familiarize with the tacit truth. "No...", that is your faint protest. Your eyes are filling with tears and your already fragile body is shaking visibly. "No, Billie, no. Please—" my hand takes a grip on both your thighs as I suck in a breath and nod, "I am so sorry, sweetheart." Bowing your head you focus on my hands upon your tights, before tentatively covering them with yours. You squeeze your eyes shut, and more tears stream down your already exhausted face.
"Anything but this" you mutter between sobs. "Tell me this is not what I think it is," I place a finger under your chin, gently lifting your face up to me. Exhaustion and pain are sucking in the color of your face. My heart aches at the sound of your sobs. They cut deeply through it, as sharply as a knife. "He passed away, sweetheart. But he is free now, he no longer feels pain," contrary to my expectations, your grandpa comes closer. I don't have to turn around to realize that, his aura alone is vivid again, that surrounds the whole space like an enveloping blanket.
You let out a bitter and brief chuckle, "N-no, maybe...," you stutter, as you tentatively try to come up with a different explanation. Mediums can make mistakes, that's what you keep repeating inside your head. "He is just resting. He told me. H-he told me he wanted to sleep, but I mean, for God's sake, he didn't— he couldn't," you choke out, "Baby, it's okay, easy there... it's okay," I coo, keeping my gaze on you. I scan every detail of your face, making sure the pads of my fingers touch each of them.
Before you can even protest, I wrap my arms around you, at the same time cradling you to give you some form of support. When you bury your face in my chest, I feel your warm tears wetting my skin. I pepper kisses all over your headline, while you cling to me with force. "I didn't even get to say goodbye...", a sad smile tugs at my lips, when you say that, "He is right here, doll. He can hear you."
"Is he?", you ask timidly and I nod. You gulp back more tears, and angrily and sloppily wipe the corner of your eyes. You don't know where to look so you roam your gaze here and there over the room, before looking down at your trembling hands. A low chuckle slips from your mouth, "you knew, didn't you?," you whisper, "you pushed me away, because you didn't want me to see it."
"I never meant to hurt you," that's your grandpa's answer. However you can't hear it. I repeat his words to you and you scoff softly. It's like it doesn't even surprise you. You're not mad, nor disappointed. You're just trying to deal with a grief. "I could have held your hand," you frown, at the guilt feeling falling upon your shoulders. "I'm so sorry if I made you believe this was beyond me. It probably was, but fuck—", you chuckle bitterly, and both your grandpa and I frown. He shakes his head, when I turn to briefly glance at him. "I only wish I had been there till the end," you voice in a whisper.
I listen to your grandpa, before telling you his exact words, "sweetheart, not even for a moment he thought you weak. It was him all along...he was just scared," you snuggle close to me, and a small smile comes up to my face. You fall in a small silence. Your mind is probably louder than your voice right now. It's spinning, giving you headaches, that you're desperately trying to make stop. I take your hand in mine, lazily drawing circles on your knuckles.
"Tell her no matter where I go, I'll always and sincerely love her with all my soul," your grandpa is standing right in front of us now. When I tell you, a pained look flashes thought your beautiful eyes. The man kneels down to be at the same height as you. "She is not just my niece, Billie. She is everything." I smile through my tears, giving him a faint nod of my head. When he reaches out to cup your cheek, your eyes open wide. Your mouth falls partially agape, "I—..." you mumble in disbelief, "Is it him?", a watery chuckle escapes my mouth, glad that you felt it.
Your grandpa looks happy as well. He lingers a few seconds, and you bow your head to the side, trying to grasp all the affection you can. "Tell her to stop blaming herself for things we have no control over. Tell her to keep her promise," a grin plays out on his face, as I repeat those same words to you and you make one of your usual faces in return.
"Afraid I'll forget?" you half joke, with a sad smile, "I'll haunt all your dreams if I have to," we both chuckle when I tell you what he has just said. The atmosphere is slowly quieting down. I pull you to lay against my side, my fingers play with the hems of your shirt. Your grandpa looks at us now visibly relaxed and full of love. "She is in good hands," he reasons out loud and I nod my head, before peck the side of your head. "I'll protect her with my life," you turn around meeting my gaze, realizing I'm not talking to you.
A half amused smile appears on your face. Even in such circumstances, he only worries about you. Clearing your throat, you find the strength to tell him you'll be okay. You feel that it's the least you can do. "I'm going to honour your memory, pops," you replace the frown and the sadness of your heart with a milder expression. He turns back at you, "I'll cheerish you and the amazing moments spent together with nothing but a smile on my face," my heart races. I'm so proud of you right now, that my heart races and my eyes brim with fresh tears. "You're part of me forever."
"So are you, kid," is your grandpa response. He leans forward to press his lips against your forehead. You close your eyes and take in a long shaky breath, feeling his presence. When his hand cups the back of your head, your eyes well up with tears as you open them. "Pops...", that's all you manage to mutter. I'm stunned by the fact that he granted you the chance to see him. He is no longer wearing the same clothes as before, but trousers, a white blouse and a brown leather jacket. He even looks some years younger. "You look—" you can't even finish your sentence that he interjects jokingly, "Not bad, huh? I guess it's safe to say death suits me."
You lightly shake your head, but you can't stop smiling. Not now that you've been given the possibility to see him
one last time. "As handsome as ever, Mr. y/s/n," I play along and he thanks me with a fancy bow of his head. "See you on the other side," he says, then points a finger at you in particular, "as late as possible." Giggling you give him a nod of your head, "I promise," I nudge the tip of my nose against your nape, as you watch him go. His image fades as enclosed by a cloud of smoke. His voice echos through the walls of the house and whispers one last I love you. He is gone for good now.
Cradling your now limp state, everything crushes on you all over again. Squeezing your eyes shut, you hold on to me and you let yourself cry. The faint tremors of your body and the whimpers make my grip around you tighter. "You did so well, my love," when my hand comes up stroking your back in soothing circles, your cries turn silent. You don't say anything and I respect that. "My sweet little angel," my voice wavers, yet it speaks the truest truth. You pull away just a little, and despite the pain, you make an attempt to smile at me, "Thank you. For everything."
I shake my head and caress your face, "There is no need to thank me, y/n. I'd do anything for you," you grin softly, as I gently wipe your tears. "I have you wrapped around my little finger, don't I?", I snort amusedly and pinch the root of your nose. "Once a brat, always a brat," when you giggle, butterflies flutter wildly in my stomach. Then you lean forward and crash your lips against mine in a sweet, needy and unexpected kiss.
My hands immediately take a hold on your hips, while your fingers gently comb through my hair.
"I don't know what I'd do without you," you breath out between kisses. My lips curl into a genuine smile, looking at you with nothing but love, "Thank heaven, you'll never find out." To that your cheek burn and your eyes sparkle. You're so beautiful, ethereal even— I can't help but capturing those lips once again, guiding you to snuggle on top of me. You let out a content moan, as my acrylics raise goosebumps on your nape, "Thank heaven, indeed," you repeat softly.