Chapter Text
Ocean O’Connell Rosenberg had many thoughts and feelings regarding the warehouse they were trapped in. She considered the thick layers of dust that seemed to cover everything disgusting (and that’s not to mention the rats she swore she heard occasionally.) The warehouse had a rather ominous ambience to it, being dimly lit and filled with various old fair-related items. The air felt stagnant, causing Ocean’s lungs to strain for each breath. But the biggest and worst feeling by far was one that Ocean could never shake.
Loneliness.
After she took too long to decide the winner, all deceased members of the St. Cassian chamber choir were doomed to spend the rest of eternity in an endless warehouse. The other members of the choir had claimed that they didn’t blame her - they had come to accept their deaths during the time they shared together - but Ocean could not bring herself to face them. To face her. So she ran away and tucked herself behind a rather large pile of boxes filled with carnival junk. And although the feeling was brought about by her self-induced isolation, Ocean was lonely.
She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there, unmoving and staring off into space, but she knew that it had been long enough to where the other choir members have walked passed, searching for her. She’d hear her name being called and their footsteps passing by, but she never called back to them, no matter how much she secretly wanted to.
Ocean had many words she would use to describe herself. Mean. Terrible. A failure. Everyone else went through some journey of self discovery after they died and became a better person. But Ocean? She was just as awful in death as she was when living. She sees that now. All she ever wanted in life was to make a difference, to do something meaningful. But when it finally came down to it, she couldn’t even save one member of the choir. So as much as a part of her would love to break from her isolation, she knew she didn’t deserve to enjoy their company, much less call them her friends. And so she continued to sit alone.
A distinct lack of sound snapped Ocean out of the daze she had begun to fall into. Gone were the voices and the footsteps. All that remained was a soft buzz that filled the warehouse.
Perhaps they had given up on looking for her. Perhaps they finally realized that they were better off with her missing. Ocean tried to push back the loneliness that came with these thoughts and replace it with relief, knowing that it’s for the best. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Found you.”
Ocean’s eyes shot open, searching for the source of the voice, and saw her poking her head around the boxes. Jane. Sickening guilt began to claw at Ocean’s chest as they stared at each other.
“H-hi, Jane,” Ocean choked out.
“You’ve been got for quite a while,” Jane replied.
“Yeah.”
A tense moment of silence passed.
“When will you be returning to the group?” Jane asked.
Ocean didn’t respond and just curled tighter into her self.
“Please just leave me alone,” she whispered, screwing her eyes shut. Jane was the last person she wanted to see right now.
When all she was met with was silence, Ocean opened her eyes to see Jane sitting down next to her, leaving as much space as she could in this cramped hideout. Jane’s movements were jerky and slow, but when she sat down, she was completely still. In complete contrast, Ocean began to twitch and fidget uncontrollably, her guilt threatening to spill out.
“What are you doing?” She asked.
Jane turned to look at her with those big, black eyes of hers and said, “Sitting with my friend.”
“We can’t be friends, Jane.”
Ocean thought she saw a brief look of hurt on Jane’s face and quickly added, “I can’t be friends with any of you guys.”
Jane tilted her head.
“Why not?” She asked.
The spasming of Ocean’s limbs intensified as she fought to choke back sobs. She will not cry. She will not cry. She will not cry.
“I’m an awful person,” Ocean said, her voice cracking. She was beginning to fall apart. “I was horrible my best friend. To my choir mates. To you. I deserve to be alone.”
“No one deserves to be alone.”
Ocean trembled and the dam that had been keeping her together broke, and tears poured down her face. Air seemed to flee from her lungs as she choked for breath. How could Jane not understand that they were all better off without her? Why couldn’t she just leave her alone?
As her sobs wracked her entire body, Ocean’s fingers brushed Jane’s wrist. Before she could even apologize, Jane suddenly grabbed her hand. Shock caused Ocean’s sobs to subdue to quiet, shaky breaths.
Millions of questions filled her mind, but they were swiftly pushed back with a strong urge. Ocean knew she didn’t deserve the comfort of another person, but after spending so much time alone, she hungered for it. Her body’s desire to be close to another person overwhelmed her mind. Without thinking, she closed the distance between them and leaned into Jane.
As soon as contact was made, Ocean’s thoughts caught up with her actions. What was she doing? Her body stiffened and she began to pull away, but before she could, she was stopped by Jane practically melting into her.
Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt again. Or maybe they had begun to move too fast to comprehend. She could no longer tell. Ocean was hyper aware of the tingling sensations that blossomed from each place they were touching. Their hands were still connected, arms touching, and Jane’s head draped over her own, her blond hair falling into her vision. She could feel her face turning red, but she tried, rather unsuccessfully, to fight it.
Ocean was at a complete and utter loss at what to do. Jane was much larger than Ocean, towering above her even when they were sitting down, so it completely impossible for Ocean to move away. (Or at least that is what she told herself. She tried to deny the part of her that craved physical comfort). Without seeing any other option, Ocean did her best to relax.
“You’re warm,” Jane whispered
“Oh.”
Now that Ocean thought of it, Jane felt oddly chilled, as though ice coursed through her veins instead of blood. It’s no wonder why she would seek out the warmth of someone else; Ocean didn’t even want to imagine being that cold all the time. She supposed she was content with being a source of heat for her. It was the least she could do after condemning her to this fate.
They stayed like that for a while, huddled together behind those boxes. Ocean slowly calmed down, her crying reducing to the occasional sniffle. She was trying her best to maintain control over her twitching, trying not to be a bother. It was peaceful at first, and clearly something that both of them needed desperately, but the silence eventually got to Ocean, and all worries and guilt surrounding Jane came rushing back.
“I was going to pick you,” Ocean blurted. “To be brought back to life.”
Jane remained unmoving for a moment and Ocean wondered if she had somehow fallen asleep. But then she slowly raised her head ever-so-slightly off of Ocean’s.
“Really?” She asked. Jane’s voice always had a specific quality to it, soft and light, with an intonation that never seemed to match up with a more ‘human’ way of speaking. Ocean used to find it quite eerie and off-putting, but now she thought of it as a beautiful melody every time she spoke.
Ocean gave a small nod, extremely conscious of how close their heads were together. Her heart began to pound and her breaths became shaky and quick.
“I’m sorry.” Ocean’s voice shook, and she could once again feel the sting of tears on her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have hesitated. It should’ve been an easy choice to pick you, but I was too damn selfish to make it in time. And now you’re stuck here forever and you’ll never be able to live your life and be happy. I’m so s-sorry.”
Ocean lost control and broke down again. Her breathing was erratic as she tried to gasp for air, only for another sob to rip out of her throat. Tears clouded her eyes and burned against her skin as they fell. Her grip on Jane’s hand tightened despite the screams in her mind telling her it was wrong.
A cold hand lightly touched her face. Jane pulled back from Ocean and angled so that they were face-to-face, her other hand still in Ocean’s. Her cool touch helped anchor her a little bit. Ocean couldn’t pull her gaze away from those void-like eyes of hers.
“What makes you think I’ll never be happy?”
Regret immediately filled Ocean.
“Th-that’s not what I swear,” she stammered. “I just m-meant that-“
Jane cut her off. “I have my friends. I will be happy.”
There was that word again. Friends. Up until her untimely death, Ocean had considered all of the choir to be her friends. She now knew how wrong she had been to think she was deserving of that right.
“Still,” Ocean started, “You of all people deserved to go back. To remember your life and who you are.”
Jane hummed. “We all died young. We all deserved to go back.”
Any protest Ocean was about to make to that was cut off by Jane leaning forward so that their foreheads were touching.
“Even you,” she whispered.
Ocean’s breath got caught in her throat. Being so close, she could practically feel a chill radiating from Jane. Jane closed her eyes, her long lashes almost brushing Ocean’s skin.
“And I forgive you, if you need to hear that,” Jane said.
Ocean grimaced. “You shouldn’t.”
“I do.”
A long sigh escaped from Ocean and she couldn’t bring herself to respond.
The two drifted off into a slightly more comfortable silence. Jane had eventually shifted so that her head was buried between Ocean’s neck and shoulder, with one of her arms loosely wrapped around her, and the rest of her body halfway on top of Ocean. Ocean brought up her free hand and placed it over Jane’s back. If it was warmth that Jane was looking for, she was going to do her best to provide it.
After Ocean’s tears had long since dried, she rested her head on top of Jane’s.
“You should leave soon,” Ocean murmured. “The others are going to worry, with both of us missing.”
Jane shook her head, her hair tickling Ocean’s neck. “I won’t leave until you’re ready to return with me.”
Ocean let out a humorless laugh at that. “It might be a while.”
“You’re worth the wait.”
Those words filled Ocean with a strange emotion. It was warm and chased away the loneliness thought Ocean had thought would never leave her. Suddenly the warehouse seemed less suffocating, and she could breathe a little easier. Ocean closed her eyes and pulled Jane a little closer. The solace that she provided allowed Ocean to entertain the thought of maybe, just maybe, returning to the choir. But she selfishly didn’t yet want to rid herself of the weight of the girl she was holding. And so she decided to lose her self in the comforting presence the was Jane Doe.