Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Letting Go
"I think I'm ready to let her go." And even though my voice trembled, there is still conviction in my tone. I am ready to move forward and be happy. It's what she wanted and what I need.
It's quiet for a beat, I can tell that she's giving me the chance to add more to my statement. To give a reason for this new development. Just last week I burst into tears, because I couldn't verbalize why I haven't been able to visit her grave since the funeral. Now here I am ready to let her go. After noticing I don't quite know where to begin she starts the conversation.
"Did something happen with Hope?" I shake my head. Seeking therapy definitely had everything to do with her, in a way letting her go has a lot to do with Hope too indirectly, but she's not the catalyst for this.
"I dreamt about her last night, I forgave her in my dream."
"You saw her in a dream?" She repeated like she was trying to figure out how she should approach this scenario.
"Yes, I was in this meadow we used to spend nights looking at the sky. And she appeared, she looked exactly like the version of her I saw in the bar six months ago. We talked, well mostly she talked and she begged me to forgive myself, to forgive Hope and to let go of the grudges and resentment I'm letting fester. She told me it was ok to move forward and be happy. That it's all she ever wanted for me. She seemed tired, lonely." The dream felt so real, and the message whether conjured up by my subconscious or otherwise was clear. It was time.
"She felt lonely." I continue on. "Like she was missing something. She didn't feel at peace and I realized neither was I. I owed it to her and myself to find peace again. So I hugged her and told her I forgave her, her smile didn't reach her eyes like it used to, but her body relaxed like a weight was lifted off her shoulders. The last thing she said was: 'if you forgive me then live and let yourself be happy.' And she was gone."
It feels good telling someone else about it. I could talk to Hope about it, but I know bringing it up might hurt her or make her uncomfortable no matter how understanding she acts. Plus I don't know how well admitting a part of me still hasn't forgiven her would go down. I know she still hasn't forgiven her herself completely for the role she played in this mess. No need to fuck with her sanity more than she does on her own anyway.
"It is a step in the right direction, and are you sure you're ready to take that step? Are you doing it for you, Hope or?" She doesn't finish her question.
I know she's testing my resolve knowing that the name alone would normally be a gut punch emotionally. "I'm doing this for all of us."
That has to be enough. I can't let her go solely for myself, no matter how much it's for my own mental and emotional stability. But maybe for Hope and her, for them I can crawl out of this abyss of mourning and wallowing.
"We all deserve peace. I'm prepared to say goodbye now." I have to be.
"I think you are too." She gives me a small encouraging smile and my chest feels a little less constricting. A vote of confidence goes a long way.
"Thanks, that means a lot. I'm going back home with Hope for Remembrance Day. Hopefully seeing her grave and acknowledging it in real time for the first time since her funeral will be a step in the right direction."
"Have you thought about how you'd approach the situation?" She inquires.
"No. And honestly I think it's best I don't. Going back home and seeing everyone being in that place again. It's overwhelming just mentioning it now. But I have to face this, accept it and move forward."
She gives me a proud look. She might believe in me more than me right now. Granted I don't believe in myself all that much. (but fake it till you make it right?) Hell she might just be proud I'm finally listening to everything she's been saying for the last 9 sessions. Or that I've grown a lot from the broken girl, that was selfsabotaging her entire life just because she saw her dead girlfriend in a dive bar.
Dead ex-girlfriend for fucks sake. Another thing to work on in this new process. I should make a list, later at the Hope's place. Referring to the apartment as ours should be added to the aforementioned list as well. There is definitely no way I'm going to keep the little sanity I have left after this, but I'm doing it for all of us.
"I'm proud of you for taking this step. If you're feeling particularly overwhelmed remember the exercises we've went thru. And please remember it's ok to lean on a support system. You aren't alone or the only one still grieving."
"Yes I'll definitely keep that in mind."
My surrounding area is currently filled with crumpled papers. Crumpled papers with maybe two and a half sentences on them and a select few where I didn't get past 'dear'. I have so much I want to say, what need to say, but nothing is coming out right.
Everything feels off. The armchair, my favorite thing in the apartment, feels far to uncomfortable I feel like a restless cat trying to find the right place to sink into. My a's are to disproportionate to my e's, which throws off the whole aesthetic of the sentence and makes it look sloppy. Even the grip on my pen feels off. It's like I'm holding it in my left opposed to my right.
My sigh bounces of the walls of Hope's apartment -our apartment- taunting me with my own unproductivity. Why is it so hard to formulate my thoughts and emotions on paper? It probably has something to do with me not actually ever confronting said things in regards to this situation.
Everything around me feels like tempered chaos. Or maybe I'm the tempered chaos, there is so much I've held down and kept buried. There is so much inside of me that starting this process feels like I'm unleashing Pandora's box to wreak havoc on myself.
Ok let's try this again, maybe I should try writing my thoughts as they come.
I don't know why this is so difficult. I mean it's not like you're going to read or refuse to read it for that matter. No one is going to read this so why is it so difficult? It's probably redundant writing to a dead person, which is besides the point because I'm writing this for me...to you - for me? I have officially lost the fucking plot.
"Ugh!" I groan in frustration throwing the stupid notebook across the livingroom in towards the door just as it was opening.
Hope's supernatural instincts really robbed me from the hard thud I wanted to hear, even tho that likely meant it hitting her in the face.
"You training for softball practice there slugger or target practice on your gorgeous girlfriend?" She asked laughing. She really is gorgeous.
"I don't have the ass to pull off the uniform. You on the other hand definitely could." I over dramatically check her out in her Nike tights and she definitely would pull them off. And I'd definitely be pulling then off of- I'm suddenly assaulted with a couch pillow.
"Are you imagining me in a softball uniform?" She asks shocked.
"I mean technically I am, I'm just taking them off?"
Her smile is beaming and so beautiful. It kind of struck me that she's not always this carefree and unguarded with me. And it's probably my fault. Another thing that needs to be added to the list of shit I need to work on, because she's breathtaking.
Suddenly I feel her weight settling in my lap and her fingers on my face. My eyes refocus on her worried gaze. "Where did you go in that head of yours, mhm?" I can hear the concern and a tinge of fear in coloring her tone. -Help dampen Hope's emotional anxiety- added to number two on the list.
"I was thinking about how breathtaking your smile is and from how I've missed it." I try reassuring her and giving her a kiss on her chin. She leans away and looks at me skeptically.
"Are you trying to sweet talk your way out of the fact you almost assaulted me with a notebook?" Her giggle let's me know I reassured her sufficiently.
"Do I look like the type to perpetuate spousal abuse Ms. Mickaelson?"
I can instantly tell when the use of 'spousal' registers in her brain with how her muscle tenses and the widening of her eyes.
"Spousal, huh? Thought we were gal pals arguing about cat custody arrangements."
The use of spouse probably really wasn't the best choice, since I haven't showed any consistent sense of commitment lately. And the slip however small might be highly misleading and implying that I've made far more progress than I've actually done. Which in turn makes me feel far more guilty and adds more pressure on me to actually progress. But God that little smile she got, makes it worth it.
"You're stuck with me regardless." Her beaming smile really makes my emotional guilt worse yet is somehow the biggest positive reinforcement.
"I'm holding you to that babe." She kisses me softly. "I also know why you're being so cute. You're going to miss me when I go to Mystic Falls for the week."
Great now my turn to tense. She notices and is quick to try to pacify what would usually be an emotional shutdown. But actually isn't because growth.
"Actually I wanted to talk to you about that. I've been thinking I want to go with you back to Mystic Falls and maybe a 2 week vacation because we deserve it?"
The apartment is dead silent for a minute. She's doing that weird invasive jedi mind trick thing. Trying to figure out my thoughts and reasoning, or trying to detect any hint of supernatural. God our adolescence really left us with more PTSD than therapy can help us with.
"Uh, what brought this on?"
"I've been thinking about it since you brought it up and talked it out during my session today." I lace our fingers together holding our adjoined hands near my heart. "I honestly think it'll be good for me and us. I want to go with you."
I hold her gaze trying to convey that I'm doing this as much for me as for her, for us. I know she felt it when I saw the emotions welling up in hers.
"I love you."
"I love you too." For the first time I don't feel my heart clench with guilt. I take this as a sign of faith that this process will prove to be worth it.
Hope and I spent the rest of our weekend lazily packing for our trip, laying in bed and cuddling or just being in close proximity of the other. There definitely has been an energy shift between us. Like there's an open flow going between us. It hard to think that I sat in the way of said flow.
Slightly skeptical on all this top notch progress if I'm being honest. This is definitely the calm before the storm. My subconscious granting me two days of bliss to balance out the emotional hell I'm probably going to put both of us thru.
I've gotten more anxious since we went to bed last night. It's gotten worse since we left the apartment and is probably at it's highest possible peak for now.
However I've been keeping it under control pretty well. Mostly because I had to be the supportive girlfriend due to Hope's flight anxiety. It worsened significantly as the morning went on. Which was actually kind of cute in a way, seeing as we literally survived the apocalypse at 17, yet somehow flying is the thing that strips the tribrid of her devil may care attitude.
She wanted to drive there originally, like she normally does but I convinced her otherwise. Lord knows I'm not cut out for road trips.
Said tribrid is currently knocked out by a sleeping spell that would knock an ogre out and clutching at my left hand like the cutie she is. Her head leaning on my shoulder and her body angled towards me. She looks so at peace. I give her a kiss on her head and she nuzzles closer.
I'm actually jealous of her peaceful slumber, because I'm still stuck with my thoughts and an empty page. But Hope did give me great advice on how to start.
"The first time I wrote to my dad it was because of the necromancer lead in with what made you want to write to her and everything else will follow." She then held me and twirled my hair, giving me the exact comfort I needed the entire afternoon. I love her.
But now it's time to begin. Just start with why.