y’all want some angst word vomit? literally the worst, most horrendous, cruel thing i can think to happen to stefan is for the reader to die in a fucking train derailment. could you imagine!
stefan insisted, too. you’ve moved out of town, or maybe you’re just staying out of town for the summer. you’re talking on the phone with him, it’s getting kind of late in the evening. and it’s been a bad week for stefan, maybe, and it’s all starting to come to a head, and he’s feeling all lonely and sad and anxious. the sound of your voice is helping but more than anything, he misses your touch, your warmth. you always, always calm him down, make him feel better when he gets to this low point
and maybe, maybe he knows he can get through it alone, without you physically there. he always has, before you were in his life, but he also knows you make it so much better and you’ve been telling him he should ask for help when he needs it, and he needs it - so he’s talking on the phone with you and begging for you to come over, just for the night! one night!
you protest. it is getting late, too late to embark on like a 2 hour train ride. you’re running low on money, your family would be annoyed if you just started packing so suddenly at like 7pm just to visit your neurotic boyfriend for a night. but he insists, and insists, and as you’re counting your funds you finally cave. you do love him so, so much, and if he needs you that bad -
you pack a small bag, and you inform your family of your plans, and you leave for the train station. your last call to him is from a payphone where you tell him which train you’re taking (and im not saying you end up taking the 8:45 train but ;))) wouldnt that just be the shit cherry on top?), and about when you should arrive, and oh, shit, it’s arrived, i’ve gotta go.
Love you, Stefan.
Love you, too.
there’s no anxiety, no nervousness, why would stefan be nervous? stefan just goes about the rest of his evening resting easy knowing you’ll be in his arms soon, and he’ll be in your arms, and -
his dad’s watching the late newscast downstairs. stefan hears him call his name, and in the tone of his voice, stefan knows something is wrong, very very wrong, so he hurries down, and as he’s entering his dad asks “which train did Y/N get on?”
stefan is transfixed in front of the tv - he hears something about “train derailment.” something about “no survivors.” and all he can manage is a small “that one.” before hes suddenly on his knees, ears ringing, the room so goddamn white around him, and he can’t breathe! his eyes are wide and hes silent aside from these desperate, gasping little wheezing breaths. the shock is so great that he can’t even cry for the first few moments as his dad rushes to wrap himself around his son, holding him so close, so tight (his dad cries too, hard, because the pain is so raw and so fucking real to him - he, after all, lost his love in the same way and to see his son going through it too, going through it again, and you were oh so kind and loving -)
oh, and then stefan screams. he screams until his head pounds in agony, until his vocal cords are raw and bleeding, that’s how hard he’s feeling. boy feels so much.
the funeral is particularly hard. not just for the whole concept of it, for the fact that your casket was closed (your remains were not, ah, fit for viewing), but the fact that your parents regarded stefan with a certain bitterness, a certain resentment, that they tried to keep under wraps for the fact that he loved you and he was mourning too, but it’s still painfully obvious anyways. they can’t help it. you were their child. you didnt have to go get on that train for him. it was late. you didnt have the money to spare. and you’d resisted his begging but he made you come anyways, and you died for it. and that makes it his fault. for the second time in his life, his fault.
