Donovan never had much of an inclination for suicide so much as a neglect for the quality of his life, but listening to Kyu-Sik it was easy to convince himself that the other was right. That this was the easy way out, the promise of worse making escape only a delay. He didn't want to die, his heart beating rapidly in attempt to prove it was still working, but he was far too tired to do anything but give in.
Allowing the other man to take hold of his wrist, Donovan closed the remaining distance between them with a stumble, seeking out the last warmth and comfort he'd ever know. It was almost preferable to the visions he had of dying completely alone. He never suffered any pretenses in thinking his was of a healthy mindset, knowing any other cornered animal would lash out in any attempt to survive. But he had nothing else to lose, and nothing left to win. No hope for anything to ever be better again.
"I don't want to die with regrets," he whispered weakly, knowing he was in little position to make requests. He had no special requirements for what was to be done with his body, whether tossed out to sea or left for the scorching sun and hungry sea birds to destroy. There were no pets to look after, relatives he cared to give notice to. He tried to block out how right they had been, how he could have avoided this damnation if only he'd married that girl and led an appropriate life. They'd feel righteous if they knew.
But there was one thing left he wanted, because he'd read ghosts were created by those who couldn't let go of such regrets. He would have dismissed it as superstition if he hadn't witnessed it firsthand, terrified of becoming something so eternally consumed with misery. That's why he had to be okay. "If my death means more to you than my life," Donovan began slowly, trembling, wanting to make sure he was ready to commit fully to what came next. "Then I'll offer it to you, in exchange for one thing."