I imagine that Ezreal has nightmares about dieing on the job, not being able to see his loved ones faces for the last time. He can see visions of them all just waiting for him to come back to them. He can see them breaking down as they start to see that everyone's favorite explorer is not coming back.
He tries to convince himself that he doesn’t care if he dies, and that people won’t miss him all that much and that it will be the history he’s brought into the world that people remember rather than the explorer himself, but… it’s true. Sometimes he really does fear for the void his death will leave with others.
Perhaps he's not so afraid of not seeing his loved ones ( he is, just not all that much ) as being afraid that they'll hold onto the hope of his return for far longer than makes sense, and that it'll impact their health and well-being.
The first face he saw was Luxanna — his nearest and probably oldest friend, tears marring her devastatingly beautiful features. He’d never seen her look so sad — so desperate, as if she was still holding onto the hope that she would come home. Even her brother, who had been cordial to Ezreal at best and harsh at worse, looked distraught, as if it were a brother he’d lost rather than his baby sister’s friend.
Next was Caitlyn. She’d probably make all the arrangements for the funeral. It’d be perfect for him, designed in his honor. She’d be businesslike and breezy, but… the loss was there. He could see it even when others could not. There was an extra line between her brows and her smile never quite touched her eyes. She was beautiful. Ezreal longed to see that smirk, that single raised brow…
There was Yasuo too, trying to drink himself into a stupor as days turn into months with no sign of his friend. He always told himself 'it's just death; nothing serious', and he’d almost believed it, but as the realization slowly dawns on him — as the alcohol becomes less and less effective at masking his grief… The world fades, swirling away like it was a whirlpool.
Jinx… he could only imagine her crying in his most vivid dreams, and that was how he knew he was asleep. She wouldn’t show it, of course, she’d hide it better than anyone else, but she’d still wonder how she managed to fall so hard. Her smile never changed, but the tears were entirely foreign.
And then, after all that, as Ezreal tossed and turned in his grassy bed, his dreamview would shift to a cliff face. There’s a hook in it and a rope, split halfway down as it someone had been trying to climb the sheer rocky wall. At the bottom was only red, already partially covered by snow, but as he got closer he began to recognize features — an arm here, a boot over there… A neck, a swath of blonde hair, a sharp jawline…
And then he’d wake up, sitting up straight and gasping as the faces show up again in his consciousness. He tried to laugh it off — what a vain dream, to think that everyone would be so upset about him.
… And yet, he couldn’t shake the growing unease that the dream was not so far off from reality after all.
