yousei-san (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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metamorphosis2012-11-14 11:16 am
flair) wrote in metamorphosis2012-11-14 11:16 am
Entry tags:
461;
Title: final destination
Characters: Hilda, Hilbert
Rating: G
if hilda was a ghost au.
When she laughed, her voice was high and thin. Her smile was tremulous, and when he reached out to touch her shoulder she turned away. His hand fell back to his side, and he watched her shoulders shake.
“Hilda?” He hadn't meant for his voice to quaver, but it did. She waved dismissively over her shoulder, and another peal of laughter poured from her lips easier than water released from a dam.
“I'm fine, Hilbert.” Like a reed, he thought. High and thin and wispy, as if she was going to disappear. “I just remembered something.”
“What is it?” He stepped closer and she stepped away. They kept at this game for a few moments, until he let frustration take hold of him and he nearly lept forward to grab her arm. She didn't jerk away, which was good. She just stopped moving and turned her head towards him, showing half a smile.
“I'm dead.” Her voice cracked, a little. It'd been waiting to do that. Like her laughter before, the words began to spill out. “I died here a few years ago. It was a train accident. Do you remember?”
He did. He remembered sitting at the breakfast table, eating his cereal, and watching the news with his mother. He had been thirteen years old and eager to go play – it was Saturday, Bianca could go out! - but had stopped to listen about a wreck that happened in the subways. Only two people survived the crash – a six year old girl named Marie and the conductor. They had listed off the names of the deceased in the paper, too, but he hadn't been interested. But Hilda couldn't be dead. She was warm and full of life beneath his hand; she smiled and laughed and cried with him. She hugged him and didn't pass through him. They had kissed, once, after finally getting past the first stage. Neither of them apologized for it.
“Yeah.” When he swallowed, he felt like he was swallowing his tongue. It was thick and restrictive – fear. “But you're so warm, Hilda. You can't be dead.”
“I'm going to disappear soon.” She continued without pausing, almost as if she hadn't heard him. “I wanted to defeat the Subway Masters before I died. I couldn't have managed it on my own, but with you... I did. Thank you.”
It was then that he felt it – panic. A chill ran down his spine. The shoulder clasped in his hand turned icy and he jerked away, shame rushing over him. Hilda smiled, but it was hurt. She wasn't alive, he realized. He tried to grab her again, but was met with thin air despite the body in front of him.
He felt himself begin to cry. She reached up and tried to move the tears from his face, and joined him in crying when they slipped past her fingers as if she wasn't there.
“Don't go.” She couldn't. He liked her – a lot. A whole lot. A lot more than he had ever liked anyone else. It was a special kind of like, and he wanted to tell her about it. He wanted to make her understand.
“I have to.” Hilda moved away, then hesitated. The light of her was fading; she was turning into the shadows of the brightly lit subway station, dissipating before his very eyes. “You know, I really liked you a whole lot. A lot more than I ever liked a guy before.”
“Me too. But with you. Hilda, please, I --”
“Good bye.”
And he was alone.
Characters: Hilda, Hilbert
Rating: G
if hilda was a ghost au.
When she laughed, her voice was high and thin. Her smile was tremulous, and when he reached out to touch her shoulder she turned away. His hand fell back to his side, and he watched her shoulders shake.
“Hilda?” He hadn't meant for his voice to quaver, but it did. She waved dismissively over her shoulder, and another peal of laughter poured from her lips easier than water released from a dam.
“I'm fine, Hilbert.” Like a reed, he thought. High and thin and wispy, as if she was going to disappear. “I just remembered something.”
“What is it?” He stepped closer and she stepped away. They kept at this game for a few moments, until he let frustration take hold of him and he nearly lept forward to grab her arm. She didn't jerk away, which was good. She just stopped moving and turned her head towards him, showing half a smile.
“I'm dead.” Her voice cracked, a little. It'd been waiting to do that. Like her laughter before, the words began to spill out. “I died here a few years ago. It was a train accident. Do you remember?”
He did. He remembered sitting at the breakfast table, eating his cereal, and watching the news with his mother. He had been thirteen years old and eager to go play – it was Saturday, Bianca could go out! - but had stopped to listen about a wreck that happened in the subways. Only two people survived the crash – a six year old girl named Marie and the conductor. They had listed off the names of the deceased in the paper, too, but he hadn't been interested. But Hilda couldn't be dead. She was warm and full of life beneath his hand; she smiled and laughed and cried with him. She hugged him and didn't pass through him. They had kissed, once, after finally getting past the first stage. Neither of them apologized for it.
“Yeah.” When he swallowed, he felt like he was swallowing his tongue. It was thick and restrictive – fear. “But you're so warm, Hilda. You can't be dead.”
“I'm going to disappear soon.” She continued without pausing, almost as if she hadn't heard him. “I wanted to defeat the Subway Masters before I died. I couldn't have managed it on my own, but with you... I did. Thank you.”
It was then that he felt it – panic. A chill ran down his spine. The shoulder clasped in his hand turned icy and he jerked away, shame rushing over him. Hilda smiled, but it was hurt. She wasn't alive, he realized. He tried to grab her again, but was met with thin air despite the body in front of him.
He felt himself begin to cry. She reached up and tried to move the tears from his face, and joined him in crying when they slipped past her fingers as if she wasn't there.
“Don't go.” She couldn't. He liked her – a lot. A whole lot. A lot more than he had ever liked anyone else. It was a special kind of like, and he wanted to tell her about it. He wanted to make her understand.
“I have to.” Hilda moved away, then hesitated. The light of her was fading; she was turning into the shadows of the brightly lit subway station, dissipating before his very eyes. “You know, I really liked you a whole lot. A lot more than I ever liked a guy before.”
“Me too. But with you. Hilda, please, I --”
“Good bye.”
And he was alone.