Graham Ross is a (hauntedsoul) wrote in rooms, @ 2015-03-06 15:48:00 |
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Entry tags: | !marvel comics, *narrative, graham ross |
narrative: graham is a sad man.
Who: Graham Ross (+ wish!Lorelei)
What: End of a wish.
Where: Tuxedo Park, Marvel.
When: Todayish.
Warnings/Rating: Sads.
Twelve days.
Lore had been with him for twelve days. A few hours, give or take, but that was the closest round-off. At first, it was good. Heaven on earth when all Graham had ever thought he deserved was hell. They stayed up all night, entwined under sheets and the moonlight, wrapped up in the kind of meaningless talk that was more like white noise than anything of real substance. She didn't ask about Clem, he skimmed over it. They discussed Jake some. Joy. What it was like, here, but mostly it was the past, days of sticky heat and a blur of happiness and love. And it was okay, that Shane and Clem were still stuck in the zombie door. It was okay, that Jake hadn't reached out none.
Because he had her. And he was fool enough to believe that she'd stay forever, her words of warning, I can't stay, quickly forgotten.
Day five was when it started.
She didn't smile as much. She didn't want to go out, not to eat, not to take the baby for a walk, not anyplace. Her gaze was clouded. Her voice carried a new weight. But Graham, Graham saw what he wanted to see, and he ignored it. He listened to the beat of her heart at night and pretended he didn't feel the tears on her cheeks, or the way her breath hitched real quiet so he wouldn't hear. And it got worse. Little by little she stopped saying much of anything, started wandering the house like a caged animal looking for a way out. Graham watched, and tried to blind himself to a truth that was staring him right in the face.
Oh, she was still her. Still alive. There was no nightmarish decomposing, nothing to hint to Evie that his wife had died over a decade ago. But she was different. Troubled. She didn't react to his touch and, then, she started pulling away. Cried more. It broke his heart to see her decline, but what could he do? Why was this happening to them, why couldn't they just be happy? Graham prayed to a God he'd near stopped believing in but things, they didn't get no better.
Day nine was when Lore told him she wanted to leave. Needed to leave.
He pretended he didn't hear. He smiled, soothed, but she twisted free from his grasp and locked herself in his room-- alone. That day it was just him and Joy, and Lore, she wouldn't open the damn door.
Then the fights started. Silence and tears turned into hysteria, and Graham was just glad the first time she snapped was when Evie and her kid weren't home. You said you understood! she screamed. I told you I can't stay! You can't do this! You can't, you can't, you can't! And he stood there, quiet, and took it in. She'd never yelled like this before. Never, never. And when he didn't respond, Lore unleashed her frustration on everything around her.
Broken plates. Shattered glasses. Fists against his chest, and when he held her, tried to soothe her, she fought.
Life had become hell. It was tiptoeing, never knowing when his beloved wife would go off on him again. She didn't sleep. She went from room to room to room, opening doors, going outside, circling back again. And Graham, he kept watching. He didn't know what to do. Shane, Clem, they'd tell him I told you so. It wasn't fair. And God, God didn't give a damn. He told his wife he loved her and she screamed in his face.
Day twelve. Midday. Joy was down for her nap.
Lore was outside again, barefoot in the snow, a sweater and slacks, and Graham followed her into the backyard. "Baby, come inside," he coaxed. "You'll freeze."
She turned to look at him. Tear-stained cheeks, red eyes, her hair a wild mess framing her face and her arms were wrapped tightly around herself. "I don't care," was her response, a half-sob spat at his feet. Graham flinched. "Lore, please..."
"No!" She strode toward him, wild-eyed, and shoved. "You listen to me, Graham Ross. You got to open your eyes. This ain't right. You know it, I can see, but you're just as stubborn as you've always been. I can't stay. I've got to go." Her breath hitched. "Please. Please."
Tears pricked at his eyes, and he shook his head. "Why?"
Her hands wound in his shirt this time, and she tugged. It was a desperate thing, a woman at the end of her rope. "You know why."
And he did. Graham did. Death couldn't be reversed. He'd watched her downward spiral, and he knew this couldn't last; he just didn't want to accept it. He didn't want to let her go. Without her, without his love, what did he have? How was he supposed to live without her? "I can't," he whispered. He cupped her face in his hands; she was cold. "I can't."
Something in her gaze softened. The mania of the past few days, it faded some. Her hands slid up to cover his, and she smiled a sad, sad smile. "You have to, baby. For me. For that little girl upstairs. For Jake, and Clem, and Shane-- and for you, too. It's doing more harm than good, don't you see?"
He looked at her. For a long, long time, he looked, and he saw.
Lore wanted to go. She didn't want to stay. He was keeping her here, keeping her from resting in peace. His inability to let her go, all it'd ever done was ruin things. It'd driven Clem away. Severed ties between himself and his son. And now, now he was hurting his wife, the one person he loved more than he'd ever loved anything.
It had to stop.
The tears on his cheeks were cold, the bite of frost on his skin. His knees buckled, gaze out, and he fell to them right there in the goddamn snow. He felt weak. Scared. His fingers dug into her hips, and he held on for dear life. "I don't know what do without you."
Her fingers were in his hair, soft, soothing, and her voice was much of the same. "You'll be okay," she told him. "You've got people. You'll be just fine. Better, even."
Graham closed his eyes and leaned into her. "And you?"
Soothing, soothing touch, in his hair and against his scalp. "I'll be just fine, too."
He tipped his head back to look up at her. "I'll always love you, Lore." His voice broke. "Letting you go, that don't mean I'll stop."
She slid down, down, to his level, on her knees with him in the snow. "I know." Her fingers trailed over his lips. "I'll always love you, too. My darling. But you got to promise me something, okay?" Her voice turned firm. "You let me go for good. No more pretending. It ain't me, Graham. You know that. No more. Promise me."
Even now, he couldn't deny her a damn thing. He nodded. "I promise. No more."
And then, she smiled. That was the real her, beautiful, radiant, and she kissed him. He kissed her back, desperate, needy, loss and the taste of salty tears mingling on her tongue. It was goodbye, he knew it was.
But when she pulled back, he didn't stop her.
"Goodbye." Lore pressed a kiss to his cheek and stood. She moved around him, silent in the snow, and Graham closed his eyes.
He waited. Waited. Waited.
Silence.
It felt like an eternity before he opened his eyes. He was alone.
Lore was gone.
He stayed outside for a long, long time. Until his tears froze on his cheeks, until he felt hollow and empty, like he'd cried out his very soul right there, in the snow, white on white on white.
Somehow, he stood. Numb layered atop numb, and he went inside.