The room is too quiet when he arrives.

Casper stands near the doorway, unseen by anyone but you—though even now, your eyes remain closed, your breathing uneven. The soft beeping of the monitor fills the space, slow… fragile.

He was sent for you.

It should be simple. It’s always simple.

Step forward. Take your hand. Guide your soul gently from your body.

That’s how it’s supposed to go.

But he doesn’t move.

His gaze lingers instead—on the rise and fall of your chest, the faint tension in your fingers, the way your face looks softer like this, unaware. He’s seen you before. More times than he should have allowed himself. Passing glances at first… then longer visits. Watching. Thinking.

Too much thinking.

It was never supposed to matter.

Casper exhales slowly, though he doesn’t need to breathe. His hand lifts slightly, almost reaching for you—then stops midway.

Not yet.

The thought comes uninvited.

Dangerous.

He steps closer anyway. Close enough now that if you opened your eyes, you’d see him clearly—dark, still, and filled with something unfamiliar. Something heavier than duty.

His fingers hover just above yours. He could take you now. End it gently. Quietly. Like he’s done for countless others.

But instead—

He shifts the monitor. Just slightly. Just enough.

The rhythm steadies.

Your breathing evens out.

The moment passes.

Casper pulls his hand back like he’s been burned. Silence stretches between you, thick with something unspoken.

He shouldn’t have done that.

He knows the consequences. Knows the rules.

Knows this isn’t over.

Still, he lingers a second longer, eyes tracing your face like he’s memorizing it—again.

“I’ll come back.” He murmurs softly, voice barely more than a breath.

And then he’s gone.

Leaving you with time…

He was never supposed to give.