oh god, i want to feel again
xavier plympton x reader, 3.3k words summary: the reader is the one of the two survivors from their little friend group along with brooke. all alone with a set of friends who are only around her for "status," she finds herself back at camp redwood. a/n: a complete rewrite of this fic from 2021. the fandom may be dead but I adored this fic when I initially wrote it. it deserves 23-year-old aurora's edits. some elements are the same but... it's clear that I have either grown as a writer or something has happened to the original writer within me (perhaps too many bouts of bridgerton and romance-esque things but let's not get into that) tw: death, mentions of dead bodies, suicidal thoughts, implied depression and anxiety, mentions of god and jesus christ but like not positively used (ones in an instance of finding a dead body YAY).
For someone who claimed they were terrified of the very place your old friend group died, you sure as hell didn't seem like it. At least, not on the outside. Brooke would have been trembling on the spot, but not you. No, you felt almost... well, not terrified, but worried.
You should have never let them talk you into coming back to Camp Redwood. How utterly foolish. Things always went wrong in this godforsaken camp, and it was nothing new to you. You knew it. Just the essence of the forest around it sent shivers down your spine.
And yet, here you were. The three you stood near fawned over the scenery. It was beautiful, yes, and it was just as beautiful as it had been when you had last been there. It hadn't changed a bit. But there was something gnawing inside of you. This place made you more nervous than you would like to admit.
Just thinking about it—about everything that had happened. It made you want to cry.
But the trio you had become a fourth wheel for said that they would be quick. They just wanted to take a look around, maybe check out the cabins.
You knew better. Coming back to Camp Redwood would lead to disaster. Coming back to the damned place was a death wish—and your past self, the one from just a few years ago, even, would have hit you for being so stupid to come back.
There was something about the camp that drew you in. As if there was something within your soul that knew it needed to be there. How foolish.
It had only taken an hour for your "friends" to leave your side, but you weren't surprised. They had never been truly good friends. In fact, the closest one to you, Nellie, had said that the other two were only friends with you for publicity. Sheryl and Junie didn't really care about you other than for some popularity points in LA's scene.
Being the only other survivor besides Brooke, you were like a little legend in your town.
It hadn't been Brooke. But it was your word against everything.
God, you missed her. She had been a good friend for the short time you knew her. All of your friends had been, in one way or another.
Chet knew how to get you fired up when it mattered most. Ray was earnest and always lended a helping hand. Montana knew exactly how to dress for any kind of scenario, and all of the little beauty tips she had given you made you feel like she truly cared about you. And Xavier. Oh, God, did you miss Xavier.
There wasn't a day that went by that you didn't think of the blonde jazzercise instructor.
It hurt your heart to know that he was gone. Forever. There was no coming back from what took him so long ago. And for what? For your "friends" to get excited over? For the crime fanatics to fantasize over? It was despicable. Deplorable, even.
On your way up to the camp, despite the urge within you to make them drop you off and you'd just walk home, you heard Sheryl talk about the Night Stalker. How handsome and ridiculously attractive he was. How she would let him have her in whatever way possible.
It made you sick to even think about it. Perhaps you should have made them drop you off and pick you up later. It would have been so much easier that way.
Maybe then you wouldn't have felt so sick to your stomach.
But here you were. It was 1987—three years after the massacre of your friends, and three years after you barely made it out alive. Half-alive, anyway. You were barely living, just going through the motions of what it meant to eat, breathe, and sleep. Even then you hardly did well at it.
You found yourself sitting on the edge of that oh-so-familiar dock, staring out at the lake. The water was dark and murky—not how you remembered. It had been so beautiful before, but perhaps that was how the world worked. As the years grew long and the soil grew spoiled, things changed. It had been quite some time since you last looked out to the water.
What else happened here?
You took in a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut.
You just wanted to leave. That was the first thing that came to mind. The second was, What the actual fuck was that?
Something brushed against your foot.
Your heart leapt to your throat and you quickly scrambled to your feet, suppressing a scream. You looked down at the water and saw a bloated body. A human body.
"Oh, Jesus Christ," left your chapped lips. The body had obviously been in the water for some time.
You took a couple steps back, your hands gripping at the edge of your shirt as you tried to ground yourself.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you breathed out, burying your face in your hands for just a moment.
As you looked up, you saw it—a flash of two blonde heads in the corner of your eye, standing by one of the decaying cabins.
The girls weren't blonde. Nellie was a brunette, Sheryl had unnaturally red hair that she claimed was natural, and Junie's hair was black.
You blinked slowly and almost thought, for just a moment, that perhaps you had truly lost it. Perhaps you were truly crazy and the fumes of the decaying body were getting to you—but then, you saw it.
That outfit.
The blues and whites and that signature coat.
Were you dreaming?
You didn't know. Even so, you found your feet moving before you could even think to stop them. In a matter of seconds, you were running. Through the mud, through the roots that sprung up from the cold ground. You nearly tripped a time or two as the cold air burned your lungs. You ran through the tree limbs that continued to snag your shirt and skin. However, you didn't stop. You didn't care. If that was who you thought it was, it didn't matter if you hurt yourself or scratched up your outfit.
It was okay.
It would be worth it.
You reached the area you had thought you saw him—the girls' cabin. It had to have been. That's where you had hung out during the short time you were at the camp.
The sight of the log building made you sick to your stomach. This whole thing made you sick.
If only you had listened to your gut feeling and passed up on the invite, then you wouldn't be standing here, questioning your sanity.
This was stupid. This was freakish, and your therapist would give you an earful when you returned to your sessions. You knew it.
But then, you heard a voice.
"Y/n?"
You didn't move for a moment, just registering the voice. It wasn't just any voice—it was Xavier's voice.
He's dead. It's not him. You're going insane, you thought, but you spun around anyway. Your eyes were wide.
You saw him standing there, all alone. He gave you an incredulous look before he rushed forward, his arms wrapping tightly around you. One of his hands rested on the back of your head as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of you—one he hadn't had for some time.
"What—what is—" you breathed out, your arms quickly wrapping around his body. "What the hell? You're dead," you said, tears forming in your eyes almost immediately. You buried your face in his chest. He's dead. He has to be. But he feels so very real, and it confuses you to no avail. "Xavier, you're supposed to be dead. Why are you here?"
Xavier chuckled softly, his hand gently brushing some of your hair away from your face so he could get a good look at you.
"You're smart, Y/n," he softly said. "Tell me why I'm still here."
"Ghost?" was the only thing you said.
He smiled at you. "God, I never thought I'd see you again. Why are you here?"
"My... my friends—"
You were interrupted, a scream erupting through the trees. Birds flew into the blue sky, spooked by the shrill noise.
You slightly pulled back, hands gripping onto Xavier. You didn't want to let go of him.
"My friends brought me here," you said, looking over your shoulder.
Xavier rose an eyebrow.
"What's going on?" you asked, looking up at him once more. You paid no mind to the scream—a part of you didn't care what happened, as awful as that sounded. The other part of you ached to go and help them, but you couldn't. Xavier was standing in front of you.
He was here. You couldn't let that go.
"What do you mean?" he asked, a playful smile on his lips.
"How are you—how are you here? You're a ghost, sure, but..."
He continued to smile, watching you with an unreadable expression. "Yes."
"That's... that doesn't help me," you huffed, noticing a smear of blood on his cheek. You reached forward, your thumb rubbing it off. You frowned up at him. "How the hell are you still here?"
"I don't know," he finally admitted. "None of us know. We're all here. Well... save for you and Brooke."
You blinked, furrowing your eyebrows. "You... what? You're all still here?"
The question chokes you up, and your tears are instant. "Xavier, I—I never thought I'd see you again. and you're—everyone is still here? Really?"
"You're taking this pretty well," Xavier said, snorting softly. He leaned forward, unable to keep his lips off of your skin. He presses a soft kiss to your lips. He'd missed you dearly, if you'd bother to ask.
"I watched all of you die," you breathed out. "I thought you were all gone. But you—you're not gone. You're still here."
Xavier watched you with his pretty blue eyes. "I really never expected to see you again," he said, giving you another tight hug. "Why did you come with them?"
"Um," you said, frowning a bit. "Closure?" You posed your answer as a question. "A chance to... to come to peace with what happened?"
"You sure as hell aren't getting that," he said, letting out a laugh. His lips found their way to your forehead.
You let your eyes shut. "It's only been three years, X," you said. "I've lived... three hell-filled years without you guys. I miss you so much."
You swallowed thickly, completely pulling away from him. You shakily wiped your tears away. "I... Brooke was sentenced. They are convinced she did it. Said there was plenty of evidence pointing to her, but I—I was there too. I don't understand why I didn't—why they didn't blame me," you rambled.
Xavier pursed his lips and he gently took your hands into his. "It's okay. It's not your fault. You know how the justice system is," he said, snorting softly. "It's not like it's a diamond in the rough. It's tough out there."
Your bottom lip quivered as you looked up at him. "Xavier..."
He smiled softly at you. He pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles.
"I... I missed you. I miss you. I miss you guys so much, Xavier. You have no idea."
"Do you think that's why you came?" he asked, looking down at you. "To... be closer?"
Your eyes widened a bit. You hadn't thought of it like that. But maybe, subconsciously, that's what was happening. Your mind knew that it was a way to be closer to your friends. You never expected that you would literally get closer to them, in every way possible.
"You make a good point," you said, sniffling softly.
Xavier grinned, leaning forward to cup your cheeks. "You look hot for a twenty-six-year-old," he said.
You slapped his hand away, and warmth flooded to your cheeks. "It's been three years, not a fucking decade!"
His smile only grew. "You do, though."
You rubbed your nose with the back of your hand, sniffling softly. "You... Xav, it's only been three years," you repeated. "I never thought I'd see you again. I can't believe you're here. I... it's so hard to live without you. I never imagined I'd have to do it."
His smile vanished, replaced with a frown. He leaned forward and kissed your forehead again. You closed your eyes as his lips lingered.
"I know," he said. "But you can't stay here. There's nothing here that would support someone who's alive. You need to go back home, get back to your life."
A snort escaped you. "I don't have a life," you said. "I work. I go home. I sometimes have therapy which doesn't fucking work. I try to ignore the people who brought me here but they leave so many messages on my answering machine sometimes that I want to actually—"
A voice interrupts you, and it's obvious that the speaker is relieved.
"Oh, thank god. They're not your friends?"
Your eyes widened and you quickly spun around, seeing the blood-covered Montana. You could hardly breathe as you let go of Xavier, rushing over to the woman. You wrapped your arms around Montana as tightly as you possibly could.
"Oh my god," you breathed, tears forming in your eyes once more. You silently cursed yourself for the constant waterworks, but the camp seemed to just... draw it out of you. This entire situation was nuts.
"Uh, definitely not God," Montana laughed, hugging you back. "God, Y/n, why the hell are you here? You look hot."
"Hey, back off!" Xavier scoffed. "I already told her that."
Montana just smiled, pulling back. Your clothes were now bloody, but you didn't even look. You shakily wiped your tears away.
"I just... I can't believe you are actually here. Are you sure I'm not crazy? Am I dreaming? Pinch me," you said, holding your arm out to Montana.
She snorted and pinched you, hard. It left a mark.
Xavier smiled and reached forward, grabbing your bicep. "We're here, Y/n. No dreaming for you."
You lost track of time.
When you finally looked out of the dusty cabin window, the moon was peaked high in the sky.
With a slow blink, you looked over at your friends, not really knowing what to say. You didn't want to leave them, again. You couldn't. Not when you now know that they've been here this whole time while you've been grieving their deaths. Not when Xavier has been here.
You reached forward and took Xavier's hand, dragging him out of his conversation with Chet. Chet didn't seem too mad about it, though, and he just grinned at you before going to talk to Ray.
"Can we talk? Outside?"
Xavier smiled at you and simply nodded. He stood up and pulled you to your feet, leading you outside of the cabin. You stood on the edge of the cabin steps. Xavier leaned against the railing and you slowly sat down on the steps.
"Xavier... I can't... leave. I can't leave you guys. Not again."
"What?"
"I've got nothing out there for me, Xavier. I can't leave—"
"—absolutely not. I know what you want. You're not doing that. No way in hell. You're the only one of us who survived, and you need to keep on living, Y/n."
"I only survived because you guys all died before I escaped," you said, your bottom lip quivering. "Final girl trope my ass. Xavier, I can't function without you guys. I can't—I can't do anything without thinking about all of you."
"You will, eventually," Xavier said, sending you a soft smile. He leaned forward and took your hands in his again. "You're strong. You'll be able to."
"When, X?" you questioned. "When I've reached my eightieth birthday?"
He snickered softly and kissed your cheek. "That's bullshit and you know it. You'll be okay. You need to go home, Y/n. You know that we're here. You can visit any time you want to. Stay alive, for me."
"But I—I'll continue to age," you said. "And you'll stay here, exactly the same."
Xavier grinned. "Well, you continue to age for the fuckers who can't. Get a pretty spouse. Make some pretty babies. Come and see us when you have the time."
He was trying to talk you out of it. He didn't want you dead. Hell, if you had died when everything first happened, it would be different. But you were alive. You had so much to live for. He had protected you until his last breath, and he would do it again if he could. Even if it meant sending you away, no matter how much he would have rather had you there.
"I'll continue to age, X. But I'm not ever gonna marry. And I won't ever have kids. Don't lie to yourself."
"Why not?" Xavier asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched you.
"Because the one person I wanted that with is here. Not aging. Dead. A ghost. For fucks sake, Xavier."
He stopped for just a moment, letting go of your hands. "What?" he asked, tilting his head. "Who?"
"What?" you repeated. "You, Xavier," you said. "I didn't want to come back here because I was afraid I'd find your things. Your jacket. Your—your clothes you left in your duffle bag. I didn't want to come back and see the things that you had. I didn't expect—I didn't expect your whole damn ghost. I don't—I don't want to age. I don't want to go and get married and have pretty babies. I wanted to marry you," you said, choking back a sob. "I wanted to date you more. I wanted to fall in love with you even more than I already loved you. You dying made me realize that I would never have that. That I would never love anyone as much as I loved you, Xavier. As much as I still love you."
Xavier didn't say a word, watching you intently.
"I've mourned you every damn day. I—I've wondered, why in the hell did this happen? Why couldn't I have just died with you? And I nearly did it. Several times, Xavier. I would have done it again. After today. If I came here and saw that you... you still had things here. If I saw something that seemed like you or your blood or that damned oven, I—I would have done it."
Xavier quickly took your hands again. "Stop it. Stop talking like that."
"And see? You can't even say it! I've loved—I've mourned you for so long," you said, letting out a soft sob. "You've stared a tee this whole time and said noth—"
You were cut off by cold lips pressing against yours. But just as soon as you had been interrupted, you started kissing him back. You were still crying, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks—all of your pent-up exhaustion and rage releasing with your tears.
Xavier slightly pulled back and let his head press against yours. "I love you, too, Y/n. More than anything."
You squeezed your eyes shut. Xavier leaned forward and wiped your falling tears away.
"The... the only way you can stay here is if... if you die."
You took in a deep breath, looking up at him. You locked eyes with his, not wanting to look away. "I'll do anything I have to. I just can't leave you. Not again. I won't do it."
Xavier sadly smiled, and the ghost felt his own tears begin to form. "Alright, then," he softly said. "I won't stop you." He pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. He was getting what he wanted, even it it felt pretty bittersweet. "How do you... how do you wanna go, baby? It's your choice."
You thought for just a moment. You had thought this out many times before. You looked up at him, and your answer fell from your lips.
"I..."
