[It's like their body's been given permission to utterly fail them, now, because it tries again. Drowns out their pathetic attempts to make willpower overwrite reflex. They bend over again, retch again, set the reeds rustling with their trembling great heaves. Their nose runs and their eyes run and everything tries to force its way out of them until they're reduced to dry heaves, to being so stuck on emptying themselves out that they're even trying to expel hollowness itself.

It's not fair, using those words.

He said them first. To Chara. In their empty, silent home. He called out for them, and they failed to answer him. Should have been determined enough to overcome death all on their own, should never have reduced him to that. Should never have made him suffer, either with words or with silence.

He almost followed in their footsteps here, too. Because of Chara.

Now he's gone somewhere Chara can't follow.

Now it's Chara's turn to live in a world without him. All over again.

Their breath comes in weird spasms. Coughs, gasps, sobs, whatever they are. They scrub their damp sleeve over their forehead, wipe away the clammy sweat prickling on their skin. Scrub their sleeve over their mouth, and that's gross, they're gross, they're such a vile stain on this place. They look horrible. Why are they even alive?

Chara pulls back from the water's edge. Lets the reeds conceal the evidence of what they've done, at least a little bit. Think of looking for the thermos, trying to rinse this away, but they don't make it that far. Just sink onto the muddy shore, curl up in a pitiful little ball in the dirt, arms wrapped around their stomach.]

I don't want to live without him.

There's no point to me. Why am... why am I the one who's still here? Why not me instead of him?