killian jones. (blackhearted) wrote in demoniumic, @ 2015-01-11 03:43:00 |
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It'd been three days. Three. Compared to a centuries long life, those were just a drop in the ocean. Hardly remarkable, except each and every one had been excruciating. Tink never reached out, never asked him why, never said a thing. He'd been expecting a reaction, nearly hoping for one, and yet all he got was painful silence. It was supposed to be what he wanted, the loneliness and emptiness that was so familiar it followed him like a shadow. He couldn't keep on like this, tying so many delicate strings to something that couldn't last. He was going to lose her. That was the ending page of their story and there was no changing it, it was written in the stars before his traitorous heart started to warm to having her curled at his side every morning, before he let himself feel things that he was never supposed to feel again. It was supposed to be easier, to burn the bridge before it could fall out underneath him, before she could saw the connection away and let him flounder on his own, or as was all too possible in the City, it disappeared all together. Pulling away from her because eventually she would be gone was supposed to be the smart thing, to prepare him for the inevitable. He didn't need a fairy to function, he could survive the City without her, without anyone. The three days had stretched into some sort of painful eternity, with every flash of blonde a reminder of what he had left behind (again), every laugh he heard not quite right because it wasn't bright enough — Lady Bell really lived up to her name when she laughed. It was supposed to ache less the longer he went, instead of every part of him wanting to claw back to her side and pretend they had a little more time. She was like an addiction he needed to break, and he had intended to go cold turkey. He drowned himself in different ones, hadn't eaten and hadn't slept, tried to live as inhumanly as he could manage (and that was quite a bit as a vampire) because if he was inhuman it wouldn't matter. And yet nothing had managed to make any of it ache less. He would have been strong enough to stay away if half the town hadn't decided to disappear. In the end, it might have just been a very good excuse. If she was really gone, then he wouldn't have anything to worry about anymore, now would he? He just wanted to know for sure, and he couldn't just send her a message or call. He had to know, and a part of him hoped that she really would be gone. He'd hate it, because it'd mean she was going back to knuckling under Blue and sucked into a hat, but it'd be better for him and better for his revenge. It'd reinforce the life lesson he should have learned a long time ago, that nothing ever lasted and he was a fool for hoping it could. He couldn't break to temptation when it was gone, and maybe if she was gone he'd go soon too. Only when he let himself in, there was too much hope decorating the walls. All her things still lined her apartment, and supposedly things disappearing was a telltale sign. It still smelled like her, he could see the blanket she was always winding around them when they were watching some manner of stupid television show because she seemed to think his vampirism meant he'd literally freeze if she didn't try to keep his temperature up at all times. He would have been fine, but letting her tuck close under the blanket was hardly a hardship, so he let her. He let her do too many things, let her claw into a place he wasn't supposed to let anyone else, and worse of all he knew that everything he felt was entirely pointless. Tinkerbell would never feel the same about him — faeries weren't made for it. Not only had he betrayed Milah by caring about someone new, letting someone else feel like happiness and home, however fleetingly, he'd also done it with a fairy. A fairy, a creature made to manufacture happy endings, to float above human existence aiding but never truly becoming a part of it. It might not have even been possible for the fairy to care about him in the same way, and yet here he was. The fact her things were still around should have been hint enough, and yet the excuse was starting to crumble quickly. "Lady," he called, voice rough from not using it in a few days, pitched high enough that even if she was asleep, she'd certainly hear it. If he listened he could have probably heard her, and it was becoming more and more apparent that he'd broken his own conviction and snapped at any excuse to see her. He figured she'd be angry, or maybe she would just be confused. Didn't care he disappeared and didn't care that he'd come back. In the end it didn't matter how she reacted, he just had to see her... just for a moment, and that would be enough. It would have to be enough. |