Work Text:
Wishing, wishing, wishing.
Suitcase found herself falling, falling and falling, she looked up, where that weird ship that her and knife were just fighting in was, but simply nothing was there.
As she neared the ground, she glanced to knife, realizing the decision she had made. Having no other option than to make peace with it, not like she wanted to have lived any longer. She wished she had died much, much sooner. Death was going to catch her in its arms, like fathers were supposed to. Though it was all false. She wasn’t ever real. Neither was anything about her, just some figment imagined for entertainment. People liked watching her suffer.
She neared the ground, her inner child taking over, making her squeeze her eyes shut, everything going dark.
She hated the dark.
She waited, bracing for the pain but..no pain came. Her eyes slowly peeked open, she found herself..in the hotel. Hotel Oj.
Her breathing hitched, her eyes darting around, only finding..faceless objects.
She froze. Remembering Pickel.
She tensed, her mind instantly focusing on one person; Balloon.
‘Oh Balloon, Balloon, Balloon, Balloon’, she repeated to herself, running past the front desk and to the main lobby, stopping in her tracks.
There, near the corner of the room, lay a faceless Balloon. All that was left of him.
She shakily approached him, getting on her knees, reading what was written on his body.
“Full of hot air.”
She felt like an unplugged tv, just staring at him, trying to make up a face, make up a voice.
Nothing.
She slumped over, laying against him, her eyes wide and empty.
She found herself wishing he would sit up, wishing he would speak to her one last time.
Wishing, wishing, wishing.