[ And where perhaps he is unmade most is that he has been forced to look every day since that with her absence. He reaches for her, in the dark, in small ways, finds himself standing where he should if she were to walk into the room. Lifts his head to ask a question of what to do, checks numbers for two when there is only himself.
He reaches and reaches and reaches and there is only empty air that curls under his fingers. He wants of those days, cut outside of time, where she was warm and there and beside him. Curled around and against and too far wrapped up in her to breath a world outside of her.
He was living without air, and it burns in a not yet death. Soon, he hopes and prays and hopes again, soon this will be over. ( it will not be, it cannot be, Emily is too young, she needs him, she is alone and young and all of a desperate child's drawings trying to make sense of what has happened are the only things that come to his mind--
-- and even then, not all, there is blood too, must be paid for this. One day, it will be his too. ) ]
Amber --
[ He hovers there, stood up with his palms still flat on the table. Looking down at her, and of course it is, of course that is what has passed, his own words come back like a slap in the face.
So he waits, and he waits longer, watching her in slow patient seconds that are breathed out in the silent sounds of a room, never quite empty. The kettle still cooling, the steady thud-rush of her heart beat, somewhere his own, and the echo of other things he has long gotten used to hearing. ]
no subject
He reaches and reaches and reaches and there is only empty air that curls under his fingers. He wants of those days, cut outside of time, where she was warm and there and beside him. Curled around and against and too far wrapped up in her to breath a world outside of her.
He was living without air, and it burns in a not yet death. Soon, he hopes and prays and hopes again, soon this will be over. ( it will not be, it cannot be, Emily is too young, she needs him, she is alone and young and all of a desperate child's drawings trying to make sense of what has happened are the only things that come to his mind--
-- and even then, not all, there is blood too, must be paid for this. One day, it will be his too. ) ]
Amber --
[ He hovers there, stood up with his palms still flat on the table. Looking down at her, and of course it is, of course that is what has passed, his own words come back like a slap in the face.
So he waits, and he waits longer, watching her in slow patient seconds that are breathed out in the silent sounds of a room, never quite empty. The kettle still cooling, the steady thud-rush of her heart beat, somewhere his own, and the echo of other things he has long gotten used to hearing. ]
-- Who?