Work Text:
It’s a beautiful day outside.
The sun is shining bright overhead, only a few wispy clouds scattered here and there across the sky. It’s warm. Every so often the air stirs with a gentle breeze.
It makes her want to scream.
She wants to scream at the sun to go away, for clouds to cover the sky and make everything dim and gray and cold because it feels like the light and warmth are mocking her. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that the world gets to be bright and happy when her entire world is shattered and broken and gone.
Everything feels distant and numb; her limbs feel awkward and weak, sometimes her head feels that way too somehow, like she’s not really there, like the empty exhausted shell of her body wants to just collapse and never get up and let whatever else there is of her float away from it all.
And then she’ll come back to reality, that deep ache in her chest grounding her in the familiar hurt of the fact that she can’t just float away, she can’t escape, there is no way to get away from what happened.
She just wanted a friend. Someone to care about and look after, someone who would care about her and look after her. Someone who would always be there.
They promised.
And she wants to be angry, to scream at the world for taking the promise she made and breaking it but she knows in her heart that there is no one to blame but herself, and the thought makes her want to sink down, down, down through the icy cold and dark of the ocean until she stops feeling anything at all.
Was that what it was like for him? Falling and falling and falling until everything was the empty void? Did he have time to think, to know what was happening?
She’s often thought that, if she died, she would want him to be her last thought. She would want to close her eyes and remember, relive every moment they had together, remind herself that no matter how badly things were ending, they were once beautiful and that was enough.
She has thought that way, many times; shut her eyes tight, held tight to the little thread of hope, of knowing that no matter what, they were there for each other to the end and that would make it okay.
Now the thought makes her want to throw up, because she wasn’t, and nothing is okay, but she’s selfish to even think that because she broke her promise and he’s gone because of her.
The world feels empty without him in it, but she knows that she deserves nothing less, and she only hopes that wherever he is, if he is anywhere, he has the happiness he deserves without her.
“I’m sorry,” she chokes out in a whisper, curled in a ball in the grass of the garden they made together.
Not even a breeze answers her.