Dimentio nervously paced back and forth. Time seemed to just zip by, and he couldn't keep up. Luigi had successfully distracted him for long enough, showing him all sorts of cool things, from the mountain tops to the riversides. A part of Dimentio resented him for that because it completely distracted him from finding a solution.

Three weeks. Three WEEKS! He only had three weeks to figure out a solution.

A solution that he knew didn't exist.

That night Luigi was off with Mario and his real friends. They were all going out to race go-carts or something. Mario made Luigi go because it had been too long since he hung out with his friends and some socializing was long overdue. The man in green was nervous, but Dimentio promised he wouldn't leave the house and get himself caught.

A part of Dimentio wished he made Luigi stay. He wanted the man in green to offer him another distraction so he wouldn't have to deal with the feeling that came along with the fact that he was running out of time.

But Luigi wasn't there. So... he did the next best thing and thought to himself, What would Luigi do if he WERE here?

Well, Luigi took a lot of walks on his own. He said it was calming and helped him collect himself. So, that's what Dimentio did, even though Dimentio had promised him he'd stay safe at home. He knew nothing would happen, and even if he were to be caught, what was the worst that could really happen? He wasn't afraid of being caught anymore.

He thought that maybe there was some sort of magic to walking by the way Luigi described it, but as he trekked into the woods his anxiety only worsened. It was quiet, so it gave his thoughts a chance to really start yelling, telling him he was a fool for wasting so much time like this. Telling him that he had already thrown away another chance at life.

He walked faster than usual as if the speed was saving him time. He didn't quite know where he was going specifically until he found himself back by that creek, in the very location he had first appeared. He let out a cry in frustration as soon as he got there, grabbing the sides of his head and pacing back and forth. At that moment, he almost felt detached from the world, gasping for breath. His breathing was incredibly uneven, squeezing his eyes shut as if that would hide the reality of what was going to happen in only three weeks.

He didn't want to die. He really didn't.

After a moment, he collapsed down to the ground, sitting along the riverside and hugging his knees to his chest, burying his head in them as if he was trying to hide. He came out there to calm himself down, but the fact that he was there alone only seemed to make it worse. After a moment, he began to hiccup and whine, muttering phrases like, "I'm not ready to go," and, "I don't want to go yet."

It was moments like this where he allowed himself to be truly afraid and vulnerable. Moments when no one was around to judge or see him as weak. He trembled and dug his fingernails into his palms, tensing up as if it would save him from his fate.

He didn't know how Luigi did it. How Luigi could ever be unafraid of death, even for a second. The concept was just so terrifying. Being alive for one minute, and being gone the next, never having made a mark on the world. Dimentio almost felt as if he never made a mark on anything, including himself. Ever since Luigi told him to make a mark on himself first, he had been trying, but he could never get past the fear of being forgotten and meaningless once he was gone. He could never look past that.

He wished he was more like Luigi.

He wondered what dying this way would feel like. Last time it happened far too quickly. He was lucky that he hardly felt anything at all besides the intense heat for a very brief second. Jaydes told him he would be sick. He wondered if it would take longer, or if this too would be instantaneous. He could already feel his overall energy dropping progressively. He hoped it wasn't noticeable. He also was beginning to lose his appetite more and more, AND he had begun to lose a little weight. Would dying in a slow way be worse or better than being quickly killed? Yes, he was dying in a less painful way, but would it really be less painful in the long run?

Nothing really hurt too badly yet besides his mind. His mind was too filled with fear.

He sniffled, then raised his head, looking at the sky through the trees. There were billions of stars, none of which he recognized, even though he had ended up reading a few books on astronomy simply to see why Luigi was so interested. To be fair, it was fairly fascinating, but there was so much information that it was difficult to remember.

It's funny to think that there were so many galaxies and people out there who had no idea that he ever existed. It was even weirder to think that they never would. He wished he could just paint a picture across the sky that said, "Hey! I'm here!" He wished he could make a clear and obvious mark on the world. But alas, he couldn't. The only marks he made were traumatized memories.

Someday, that was all he'd be. A bad memory, destined to be forgotten.

He let out a short, uneven breath, then kicked off his shoes. He remembered how Luigi liked walking in the water. He wasn't sure why... but a part of him wanted to try it now when he was alone. Try it now, just so he wouldn't disappoint anyone if he didn't like it.

After he kicked his shoes off, he carefully scooted closer to the water, slowly dipping his feet in. He shivered at the feeling, still sniffling and hiccuping, but he didn't draw back.

It actually helped a little. His sobs slowed and he slowly began to steady his breath again as the cold water rushed around his feet. He took a few deep breaths, focusing on the feeling of cold and trying to tune out the panicked voices in his mind, instead trying to focus on the sound of the water.

He wondered if he could do this in the Underwhere. If he was allowed to sit by the River of Twygz and listen to the sound of the water. Although, thinking about it almost made him sick because, unlike this creek, the river was deep and he could get dragged in. He shuddered at the thought.

He wasn't really afraid of drowning in this creek anymore. He wasn't sure why he refused to walk in it earlier with Luigi. It was literally too shallow to do any harm. He supposed that the mind just found ways to be irrationally fearful.

A part of him really wished he wasn't alone, but it would have been unfair of him to ask Luigi to stay by him. The man in green STILL had yet to ask Daisy out. He would always say something along the lines of, "I'm still figuring out if I want to or not," which was odd because it was clear he liked her and it was even more clear (according to Mario) that she liked him too. Still, he would always put it off.

Dimentio wasn't sure why that made him happy. Perhaps it was because he didn't like the feeling of change. He didn't like how the flowers around him changed, he didn't want Luigi to change too. He didn't want Daisy taking Luigi away more.

It was sad how afraid of being alone he was now. He was never afraid of being alone before, but now the feeling was rather unsettling.

As if on cue, Dimentio suddenly heard a high-pitched bark, causing him to flinch and look behind himself where the sound had come from.

He let out a short breath when he saw it was only Polterpup. He then looked back forward, away from the paranormal pooch. "Followed me, did you?" He asked, wiping a tear with the palm of his hand, not that the dog would judge him.

As if on cue, Polterpup trotted up to him and nudged his arm, smiling and wagging its tail. Dimentio almost envied the dog, for it must have been nice to live with no worries, being all smiley and happy all the time. Plus, even after death, Polterpup was given the opportunity to be a ghost and find a good home where it would be showered with love.

The dog whined for a moment, then ended up squeezing between Dimentio's arms, inserting itself on his lap, then curling up. Dimentio was slightly confused because the dog didn't weigh anything, but he could definitely feel it there. Yet, when he tried picking it up to move it, his hands would completely phase through.

"What are you doing?" Dimentio asked, sniffing and trying to brush the dog off himself, but alas, Polterpup would not move. After a moment, Dimentio just stopped trying and let out a small sigh. Polterpup seemed to appreciate it, as the dog yawned, then closed its little ghost eyes, resting its head in Dimentio's lap. Dimentio sighed, then lightly patted Polterpup's head. To his surprise, this time his hand didn't phase through. It was almost like Polterpup could choose whether it wanted to be touched or not.

"...Did it hurt when you died?" Dimentio muttered, petting the dog and thinking about what Polterpup must have been before it was a ghost. He wondered how the little rascal died. Was it natural, or an accident? Why was Polterpup even a ghost? Was there a specific reason?

He'd probably never find out.

The dog stayed silent, nuzzling into him. Dimentio almost liked the feeling of having Polterpup there. He enjoyed how Polterpup saw him as it saw everyone else, as a person who needed love. Dogs were truly wonderful in that way. They offered so much love to everyone, and Dimentio was grateful for that. Polterpup never cast any disapproving glares at him or wore expressions of fear in his mere presence.

He liked it. He only wished that this wasn't the first time he ever felt loved.

"...You're not so bad," Dimentio said next, knowing that Polterpup wasn't going to reply to that last question. "I mean... I know Luigi says you're trouble... but I'm trouble too, so I'm in no place to judge," he chuckled.

He really did love the story of how Luigi took home the little poltergeist after his ghost-hunting adventure now that he thought of it. Luigi did seem to really have a knack for taking in and helping trouble-makers. That was probably the quality about Luigi that Dimentio loved the most. The man in green knew exactly who he was dealing with and how dangerous his opponents were, but opted to try and help anyhow. Dimentio almost couldn't understand how anyone could be that kind-hearted and trusting.

"I'm going to miss you guys when I go," Dimentio breathed, still patting the ghost dog. Polterpup seemed to react to the word "go" by sitting up and raising its head so it could look at Dimentio with an almost confused expression, cocking its ghost head to the side.

"Hey, don't look at me like that," Dimentio breathed with a small smile. "It's not like I want to leave. I just... have to."

The dog continued to stare at him as he pulled his feet out of the water and lay back, looking up at the sky, but still feeling the dog on his lap.

"I want to stay," He whispered. "I really... really do."

He closed his eyes, allowing the cold, brisk midnight air to cover him like a blanket. Moments like this were what he was going to miss the most when he was gone.

Being cold, and feeling loved.