Work Text:
He dragged his tired body towards the dim staircase. Climbing those dreadful stairs was a challenge for him, with each step more difficult than the last. Slowly, he reached the top, clutching a glass of water, his steps heavy and lifeless, their rhythm revealing his emotional turmoil. He wasn't fully present; his mind, heart, and body were all numbed by the pain. Once upstairs, he headed to the bedroom and sat on the bed with a sigh. It was going to be a long night. Though exhausted, he couldn’t sleep. Some sleep would be a welcome change, offering moments without pain in a world where he couldn’t recall what had shattered his heart in the first place. To sleep, to forget, to temporarily cease to exist—if only for a few moments, hours, or even days. Yet, he couldn't manage even that.
He sat up in bed, leaning against the headboard, with only the blue numbers of the alarm clock providing any light. It was 3 a.m. There was no need for illumination; the world had become a grayscale version of its former self, wrapping him in a dense fog. He gazed blankly at the opposite wall, avoiding her side of the bed. Memories tormented him, cutting through him with even the slightest recollection. How could he break free from this limbo? How could he heal his shattered heart? He found himself dwelling on what he missed most about her—her hands. A faint smile crossed his lips. Her hands made everything better, fixing everything. Her touch, her warmth.
Unconsciously, his hand had found its way to her pillow, pulling it closer and embracing it to savor her fragrance. It was sweet, reminiscent of all those times he had held her close and she had softly spoken his name. He had never heard his name spoken with such tenderness before. But what had happened to that affection the last time he saw her? She had spoken his name without warmth, as if it were just a meaningless collection of letters.
His fingers clutched the soft pillowcase tightly. Anger simmered within him, with his inner voice demanding to know why this had happened. Why had he lost her? He couldn't remember anymore. All his mind brought up were regrets about things left unsaid. Was it his pride or fear that held him back? He really couldn't recall now. How long had it been since he withdrew from the world? He stopped meeting friends, stopped going out, and simply shut himself off from everyone. He stayed in his house, confining himself to that very room. He wasn't sure if it was a form of self-punishment or if he was clinging to the faint traces she left behind. This room was filled with her presence, echoing with the "I love yous" she had whispered in his embrace. They still lingered on the walls, cutting through the dark void of his overwhelming loneliness.
I love you...
I love you...
"I love you," he murmured into the emptiness. His voice was rough and hoarse, unused for days due to his silence. The sound of his own voice was jarring to his ears.
Nausea twisted in his stomach, a lump forming in his throat as tears streamed down his cheeks. He didn't bother to wipe them away, as acknowledging them would make them real. He remained motionless, detached, and solitary in his anguish. A wave of exhaustion washed over him, draining his energy completely.
All of a sudden, the glass he had been unknowingly clutching for a significant time felt overwhelmingly heavy. He gulped down the drink eagerly, attempting to wash away the bitter taste lingering in his mouth, along with the realization of how drastically everything had shifted. What would her thoughts be if she saw him in this state? Just a mere shadow of the man he once was? Would she pity him, or would she feel a sense of justice that he got his comeuppance? No, she loved him—at least she did once. He was certain of that.
The void of the room, the house, once her home, felt like it was pressing down on him, leaving him breathless. He grasped his shirt over his chest, as if trying to remove an unseen burden that was suffocating him. He had to escape, get far from where she had left her imprint on every piece of furniture, every nook, and on him. Perhaps being around people outside would offer some relief, distract him, and remind him that life continued beyond these walls.
Outside...