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It's unsettling — to see your body from above.
It might be a dream, King-Lu tells himself, but he clearly remembers waking up after he drifted off next to Cookie, and the sharp, impossible pain that jolted him out of sleep. His corpse's eyes are closed; someone must've done it out of respect or, more likely, a superstition.
He knows he's dead — the wound is there, a horrible splotch of rusty red, and no one is able to survive something like that. Chenamus certainly didn't.
He brings his hand up reflexively to touch his chest, and it's dry. He looks himself over: he's see-through, ghostly — well, he is a ghost.
By his side, he sees Cookie, also translucent, standing motionless, staring at the bodies. The two of them that are on the ground are still holding hands. King-Lu wonders for a moment why his spectral self can't feel the cold of Cookie's fingers in his, then grabs the hand of the Cookie next to him. It's surprisingly warm, almost alive.
Cookie doesn't react to it at all. He must have died sooner, and King-Lu's heart breaks at the thought that he has been standing like this the whole time.
He carefully shakes Cookie by the shoulder, and he finally turns to him.
"Look at us," he says, barely audible, and his voice cracks. "We are dead."
King-Lu gives a little sound of pain.
"Hey, hey," he says. "It's not us any more. And we don't have to stay here."
"And where would we go?" Cookie asks bitterly, but it still isn't any louder than the rustling of the leaves.
"Anywhere," King-Lu says and starts ticking off his fingers, only slightly bothered by the fact his hand goes more transparent with each second. "We can haunt Chief Factor. Or go to California after all, because I suspect you won't like the first option."
"I don't," the reply is still quiet.
"We can see the whole world," King-Lu cups Cookie's face.
His hat falls off and disappears halfway to the ground. King-Lu raises his eyes and gingerly inspects the spot of the head wound. There's nothing, no trace of the hit, so King-Lu kisses Cookie on the forehead. He probably looks younger himself, he thinks, because he can't see the wrinkles of weariness under Cookie's eyes that would only grow deeper if they stayed alive. The crow's feet are still there, though, and King-Lu is thankful, because he can stare at them for hours. He kisses Cookie there too.
It finally brings a smile on Cookie's face.
"The main thing is that we'll be together, right?" he says, this time louder.
"I'm not going anywhere," King-Lu answers and attempts to lie. "I would never think of—"
Cookie cocks his head with distrust. He might seem naive, but he knows King-Lu too well to not consider this possibility.
"I did think about it," King-Lu all but yelps, "but I stayed, and I will never, never leave you."
He glances at his forearm: the sleeve is already pale grey instead of black, but Cookie's irises are still the darkest brown there can be.
"I believe you," Cookie smiles his small smile again and grasps King-Lu's wrist. "I love you."
King-Lu's heart skips a beat. Strange that he still feels it, but no matter if he's dead or not, it aches anyway.
"I love you too, I love you more than anything in the w—"
Cookie kisses him, and they pass into nothingness, or somewhere beyond, or transform into something unknown. But, regardless of which it is — together.