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Some days were good. Some days were light parsing in through the blinds, laughter in the morning, small kisses to the back of the hand.
Some days were… not so much. Some days were the twinge of exhaustion in muscles that didn’t quite sustain them anymore, the scent of food she could no longer taste, the pain of scars she could no longer ignore.
Some days were neither. Some days were both.
It used to be that everything was a pile of crap, that her entire life seemed to be just waiting to die — alone, forgotten, afraid. She would tell herself she was waiting, that she held on to hope, but that same old song would play on repeat, and the burns on her skin would pull at every little move she took, and every other breath felt like her last, and the red sky above her felt like a blade hovering over her head.
It used to be that there were no good days, anymore. Only an unsaid amount of bad.
But then… then, the impossible happened.
Green, brighter than old pictures of Earthen trees, and eyes as sharp as her knife — back from the dead, like a ghost haunting the last few rays of radiation coming to take her away.
She was far from perfect, her entire body covered in scars she never wanted anyone to see again, her body failing her every single day, but…
But, the moment Vespa looked at her with those wide, hopeful eyes, Buddy felt 20 again, young and lost and in love for the last time in her life.
There were good and bad days.
There would forever be days where her body felt like a stranger, but there would also forever more be days where her wife sat by her side, hands warm and sure around hers, even when Buddy’s heart felt like failing.
There would forever be days where she couldn’t be bothered to put herself together again, where the red of her favorite wig would remind her of the skies she no longer craved but could still feel in her bones, but there would forever more be days where Vespa’s fingers would trace every single one of her scars like she was the miracle. Like she was still just as beautiful like this as she had been so many years ago.
There would forever be days when voices would haunt her beloved, where Vespa’s eyes would feel just a bit distant, just a bit lost — but there would forever more be days where Buddy would make sure she was safe and home, that her Vespa would know she was no longer alone.
She knew the vows could always be broken, knew they were delicate like a dying petal — but she took her wife’s hand in hers and spoke them with the last stolen beats of her heart, and she meant to keep them until the day she were no longer around to do so.
In sickness and health. She would be there, and knew her Vespa would never abandon her either.