He’s goddamn tired. With the black matter of his brain spilling out his ears— the delusions-slash-hallucinations Butcher’s fucking tired. Mentally and physically. Maybe throw in spirituality in there too.

And the weirdest part? You were popping up in his hallucinations way too much. More than his wife— or haunting people from his past.

Butcher didnt even know you. Maybe he pasted by you on the street and his deteriorating brain just wanted to have some fun and let this stranger randomly come up when maybe he hit his head or something.

Regardless, he rubbed his temple. Watching as you touched various things where if he turned around and back again it’ll be like it never was.

“Alright you cheeky bastard— go back to your lil’ hiding hole in my head.”

Butcher said, dragging his hand down his face. Just who were you? Just some deviled angel on his shoulder that haunted him like a ghost for some reason. Why was his brain doing this to him? Six months. And he might just die with you also in his casket.