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They were still waiting.
They couldn’t even tell you what they were waiting for. The rush of emotion, the cinematic moment when the dam would break and they’d be left crumpled on the floor. An instant in space and time, where the facts would align and the weight of the world would suddenly come crashing down on their shoulders, and they wouldn’t be able to bear the load.
They were waiting, waiting.
They’d been waiting for weeks, now.
It still didn’t feel real.
Now that they thought about it, they'd been waiting this whole time. For things to go up in flames, for the fairytale to end. Ever since the beginning, somewhere deep inside of them knew they didn’t deserve this. They’d been hesitant to leap into the relationship for a reason, after all.
He was the sun incarnate, and they’d never been worthy of his light.
They’d waited when they were in the ring, clinging to his delicate, sprawled form. They’d waited in the hallway outside of the med ward, staring at the clock as the seconds clicked by, the blood on their gloves beginning to dry and crack against the leather. Octavio had been there too, and for those cripplingly painful hours, he'd been uncharacteristically still.
It was a malfunction in the system. Something must have gone wrong, but the failsafe didn’t activate.
They’d waited in their empty apartment, everything dark and quiet. Their phone had kept buzzing and lighting up from where it lay on the floor, with a whole array of messages and ignored calls. They’d waited as the sun had set, and they waited even as it rose again.
We didn’t know. If we had known, we would’ve cancelled--
They’d waited as they watched the casket neatly close, before slowly descending into the ground. They’d waited as they witnessed his mother stand in the reception, eyes glazed and empty. A woman who’d truly lost everything and everyone, a shell of the brilliant mind and soul she’d once been.
They’d waited as they sat before untouched plates, the food cold and unappetizing. He used to tease them, about how much they could put down in one sitting. About how feeding them was like feeding a village, and they used to snort into their wineglass and roll their eyes.
They didn’t feel hungry, anymore. How could they, when they knew nothing would ever fill the empty spaces he’d left behind? There was no use even trying.
They’d waited, and Octavio had waited too in the chair across from them. He was right there, but the distance between them had never been greater.
They’d waited, even as he’d slowly stood, leaving the poor excuse of a dinner behind to lock himself in the bathroom. They’d waited, even as they’d heard his sobs over the sound of the rushing water.
They’d waited, and waited and waited.
The moment never came. There was never a sudden realization, there was never a snap into reality. There was only this wide stretch of emptiness, extending and growing inside of them. Reaching every corner, until there was nothing but a hollow expanse within them.
It was funny, how it was perfectly Elliott-shaped.
It felt like he could come home, any minute. Barge through the door with armfulls of groceries, hollering for someone to come help before he dropped them all over the floor. Like he could shuffle out from the bedroom, shirtless and sleepy eyed, curls a wild nest on top of his head. Like they could wander into the bathroom to see him, precariously poised before the mirror, tongue sticking out from his mouth as he struggled to make the wings of liner on each eye perfectly match.
They were waiting for it to hit them, that he was finally gone. That he was never going to come back. That, this time, there was no banner to recover, to beacon to bring him back with. That, even when Octavio climbed into bed with them, and they would both squish together on the undersized bed and leave a certain space on the left side empty, they would not wake to find the spot filled.
They kept waiting, as weeks found themselves turning to months.
The moment never came. No matter how many times they found themself silently perched on the couch, staring at the walls to pass time. No matter how many times they’d settled at the table only to realize that Octavio had, once again, absentmindedly set a third plate. No matter how many times Ajay or Renee or Anita ‘casually stopped by’, voices much kinder and softer then they had any right to be, worry poorly hidden in their eyes. No matter how many times Artur had crooned into their ear, nipping affectionately at their fingertips to remind them it was time to recite the prayers they’d stopped believing in long ago.
They kept waiting and waiting, until they’d forgotten what they’d even been waiting for.
They waited, all the same.