o hamlet! taehyung please.
O Hamlet: my character sees your character’s ghost.
There were a lot of things that sucked in this world, but you thought that having a ghostly boyfriend was the worst of them all.
Of course, tragedies weren’t like cups of flour. They couldn’t be measured out in teaspoons or cups, so you had no way of labelling yours with an objective number value. On a scale of runaway pet dog to world hunger, where does an undead, spectral boyfriend fit in? But you supposed that it didn’t really matter. Grief was subjective, so if you said that yours was the worst, then the world would simply have to accept it and leave it at that.
Not that you weren’t justified in your line of reasoning. When your lover was a semi-transparent spirit who was able to walk through solid objects and hang suspended in the air, probably anybody would have agreed with you and said how, mildly speaking, freaking miserable it was. There were so many things you wanted to do together, but death stood in the way of them all. You couldn’t touch. You couldn’t kiss. You couldn’t do the- ahem- unmentionables, which was absolute torture when you both were horny and aching for some good ol’ fashioned release (it had both amused and impressed you to learn that yes, ghostly boners were actually a thing).