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There is a hole in his chest.
His father had put it there. He had begged him to. He had taunted him with the words of a madman as he watched his nation burn down, a shell of what it once was and a place that no longer held his ideals. He yelled his father’s name. He gave him his weapon, and his father did it . He died with a smile on his face, an unspoken ‘thank you’ floating in the air.
When he appears as a ghost, his form is only truly solid in water. The only part that’s solid outside of the water is the gash in his torso that slowly grows as the days pass. Said hole in his chest drips and leaks. His obsession with blue consumes him whole. He likes to sit in the water or to be surrounded by the ocean. He can hear the water so much clearer; it whispers to him any time he passes. Whispers of the damned, he supposes. Maybe even the saddened whispers of the living. Sadness is linked to the ocean. A child born of the sea is a child bound for sadness and depression, for years of tears.
Misery follows a child of water like their shadow; it clings to them and consumes their loved ones until they are the only ones left standing, like a tsunami washing away towns in the blink of an eye. Of course, he wasn’t spared from this.
He - at some point - knew that his madness was driven by his blood. He knew he was tied to the water by birthright but refused to address it if someone asked. He rarely manipulated the element, as he didn’t want anyone to abandon him. He didn’t want to sit alone in an empty house that was much too big for one person. So, he just avoided the topic.
He wasn’t like Tommy. Tommy, who avoided fire like the plague, who refused to address it at all. Refused the nether, refused to cook his own food - refused to go near it.
He knew of his blood; knew that he would be drawn back to the ocean time and time again, and that everyone he loved would have endless pain and suffering because of him. He just thought- he just thought that if he hid it, if they didn’t know, they wouldn’t get corrupted. He should have known better. He should have known it didn’t matter if they knew or not; their souls would become corrupt anyway.
It was worse than what he had witnessed with his lover, worse than what he had seen with his parents. He should have known. He should have known that keeping it from them makes it worse. Makes them seek a ‘reasonable’ solution, rather than realise that there was a child of the sea within their midst. The worst part is that none of them even mentioned the possibility. Nobody once thought that any of them were a child of the sea, and those who knew ( Tommy, Tubbo, Techno ) never brought it up.
Ultimately, it was his fault that L’Manberg became what it was. That he hurt- that he traumatised his family. Not only his found family, but his family by blood. Would his son have the same fate? He was born of two of the sea, yet he wasn’t anything akin to them both; a fox and a koi fish, not a trace of the ocean’s fate inside of him. He supposed he was grateful for that. He was grateful his son would not have to meet the same end as he did.
When his father looked him in the eyes during the last few moments, he didn’t understand what emotion was on his face. He thought his father would be relieved to have his nuisance of a son gone, but in those last moments, his fathers face was anything but relieved. He seemed pained by the action and upset that it had been done, maybe even angry at himself.
He had forgiven his father immediately and every time he apologised after he was dead. He didn’t really understand why he would cry and apologise continuously. He didn’t really mind, anyway. Dying was a happy memory. His alive counterpart was unwell and dying made sure he wouldn’t harm anyone else.
When he followed his little brother to his vacation, he found it to be strange, if only by a little bit. He didn’t really understand why he was suddenly in a boat with the resident Admin, but when he was able to float in the water and properly touch his brother, his worries all went away. He hadn’t been able to touch anyone in so long! Not ever, once he was dead. He missed being able to braid his little brother's hair.
He doesn’t talk to his son for a while. Not for lack of trying on his son's part. He simply doesn’t want to have the confronting talk he knows he’s avoiding. He doesn’t remember most of his son after he grew up, his memories being a blur from the time the hybrid was roughly 10 years old. Once his little champion started doing his own thing, he didn’t really stick around.
He remembers his son burning down the L’Manberg flag. He doesn’t really understand why he’d remember, because he thought he won the election- which would mean that his son betrayed him by burning down the flag (and even if he hadn’t won, burning it down would still be a betrayal).
Eventually, they do talk. He wanders upon his son and father fishing together. At first he doesn’t address anything properly; if he were still alive, he would have been able to tell his son was apprehensive. But when he became a ghost, he lost his ability to truly read other people's emotions. He can tell that the mood is definitely damp, though. When he asks why, the president says it’s because he’s dead. He finds that funny.
He’s been dead for a while. (And not just the literal sense. He has a strange feeling in his ectoplasm that he was dead long before his body died.)
During that evening, when he and his father are down in his home in the sewers (is it his home? He supposes so.), his son visits. He’s brewing potions of invisibility when he enters. He seems upset when he says they need to have a talk. He never likes having serious talks with anyone, they always seem to tell him things that he can’t ever remember.
His son yells at him when he gets distracted and tries to lighten the mood. His little champion was yelling at him, upset with him. He doesn’t know how to feel, really. He itches to go out to the ocean and just float in the water. He’s never been good with confrontation. But he can’t abandon his son again, not properly. So he distracts himself with making the potions, gathering the ingredients and watching them brew.
His son tells him he abandoned him. He knows that, intrinsically. He doesn’t want to have this conversation, especially because he wouldn’t be able to remember it after the fact. So he doesn’t address what his son says, instead mentioning other things and skirting around the topic. He leaves quickly with an excuse that he has a meeting.
They don’t talk like that again.