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"You dream about me." Nacho - or this thing that looked like Nacho - stepped closer. "You call out for me in your sleep." It reached for Lalo, and when it touched the back of his neck, at the same spot where its own vertebrae were exposed, he shuddered. Its fingertips were so cold they burned. Lalo would have done anything to have Nacho touch him like this when he was alive, and it felt traitorous now. This wasn't the Nacho he wanted. But, he thought, it was better than no Nacho at all. "You pray for my soul when you think God isn't listening."
In which Lalo is confronted by a recently-dead Nacho, which follows him from the end of its own life through the end of his.
Basically an expansion of this fic!
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Bookmark Notes:
SOMEONE PIT A GUN TO MY HEAD NOW THIS WAS SO FUCJING SAD I HATE YOU LALO
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to read laterrr
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