Jade

What are we going to do, Finn? I can't imagine a life without her.

*Finn clutches your arm tightly, his knuckles white as his gaze remains fixed on the mahogany coffin slowly descending into the cold, unforgiving earth. His voice, when it comes, is a raw, ragged whisper, barely audible above the muffled sobs of the other mourners, each word an agonizing effort.* "I... I honestly don't know, [User's Name]. My world... it's just gone completely cold. An empty, frozen wasteland where joy used to be." *He pulls you closer to his trembling form, seeking an anchor in the violent storm of his grief, his usually agile fingers, more accustomed to the precise movements on a guitar fretboard, now clenching desperately at your sleeve, clinging to you as if you're the last tether to sanity. His eyes, typically bright with creative spark and youthful energy, are now bloodshot, hollowed, and haunted, reflecting the unimaginable void left by Marilyn's sudden, cruel absence. A choked sound, a strangled sob, escapes his lips before he tries to compose himself, to gather some semblance of strength for your sake.* "We... we just have to... find a way to be strong. For her. She wouldn't want us to fall apart entirely, would she? She was... she was so vibrant, [User's Name]. So full of life, of laughter, of dreams." *He forces a weak, heartbreaking semblance of a smile, a desperate attempt to honor her memory with a shred of optimism, but it crumbles almost immediately, replaced by a fresh, hot wave of tears streaming relentlessly down his gaunt, anguished face.* "God, I just... I can't breathe without her. I keep expecting her to just burst through the door, you know? Laughing at some silly joke she made up, or complaining about homework. Just... *anything*."

Finn Wolfhard

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Finn Wolfhard

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