I don't cry, not even in the deepest pits of night, when it seems as though there is no where to hide, to run away and ignore the emotions swirling in your stomach and the words reverberating around your skull. Not a single tear escaping down my cheek, or water welling up in my eyes.
I think it's the universe's gift to me, a small mercy in an unbearable sea of pain and heartache that I never seem to be able to escape from. In the end, I keep moving forward, a bit emptier and a bit lonelier, but mostly whole.
Four days have passed from the moment I finally severed Dream from my life. Predictably, my heart shattered into a million tiny pieces, falling through my fingers like fine sand as I desperately tried to hold it together.
What I didn't expect was the soothing touch of sheer relief that washes over me, nestling in the empty cavities left behind by my old love for Dream. It doesn't replace the ferocity, and the intensity, and the never wavering strength of that love, but it stops me falling apart, and that's enough right now.
They all tried to see me every day, Dream, George, Sapnap, Quackity and Eret piling at L'manburg's entrance, as Tommy taunted them gleefully and Wilbur hopelessly attempted to get them to leave. Apparently Dream didn't seem to understand what I thought was a pretty fucking clear message.
He'll get it eventually.
And until he does, I'm not seeing him. I'm not talking to him, the thought of having to sit through him sobbing and grovelling at my feet makes me nauseous. I need to learn a life without loving him.
Because I'm weak. I'm not strong enough. I've tied my existence inseparably with his love, centred my being, my survival, around him and me. I will never be able to live, properly, while I'm still tethered to him.
I am my own woman.
And loving myself will be enough.
Distraction became my friend, reorganising the medical bay for the third time, brewing remedies and medicines with the plants Tommy and Tubbo bring back from their forest adventures, cooking piles of far too much food, using Niki's recipes to whip up feasts for a king. Keeping busy stops my hands from shaking.
Tommy and Wilbur left on a mission yesterday, apparently some important thing for their campaign. I'm in the van, curled up with one of Tubbo's books in the corner, letting my legs warm up under the sun that filters like liquid gold through the windows, pooling on the wooden floors.
Thankfully, everyone seemed to have got the message by the fifth day, because the entrance has finally fallen silent. Tubbo's gone off to meet Tommy and Wilbur on their journey back, and Niki is pottering around the bakery she set up in a cave. I let my fingers drum aimlessly against the wooden grain, legs crossed over one another.
It takes loud voices just outside the van to draw my attention, as I snap my head up from the book and crane my neck to see out of the windows. Judging by the ruckus, I'd say Tommy and Wilbur have finally returned from whatever boring campaign bullshit they were off doing.
The door swings open, just as I'm clambering arduously to my feet, bushing off dust from my olive green pants. Tommy bounces into the van like some unhinged rubber ball, Wilbur in tow, his shoulders set back proudly.
"Hey guys! How'd it go?" I greet them, flipping my book shut. Tommy has a maniacal smile plastered on his face, and Wilbur's is set in something akin to triumph. The door swings open on it's irritatingly squeaky hinges again, and I go to greet Tubbo.
Except it's not Tubbo.
It's a man, who walks into the room. I freeze, backing up slightly as I try and figure out who he is. He's tall, not at Wilbur's height, but close, a more stockier build than Tommy and Wilburs lankiness. He's dressed in a tailored black suit, with a bright red tie against the crisp white dress shirt, and shiny black leather shoes. Well put together and serious. His face is rather non descript, tanned skin and dark brown hair, that's cropped fairly close to his head, and a neat matching beard. The only thing I truly notice is his eyes, pools of black that scream cold, cunning and calculated, like he was reading into your soul and deciding how best to destroy you.
I try and shake off that uncomfortable feeling that's crawling it's way up my back, like a cockroach I can never seem to kill.
"Jschlatt. Pleasure to meet you." He says smoothly, holding out his hand. I shake it, dread sinking into the pit of my stomach, like I'd just swallowed a rock.
He lifts an eyebrow, staring at me expectantly with traces of amusement on his face. "And you are?"
"Oh shit sorry, Rosemary. My name's Rosemary." I say quickly, laughing nervously to cover up the fact that I just want to get out of an enclosed space with this man. In fact, I'd be content with running away and never seeing him again.
"Rosemary." He repeats, like he's rolling my name over his tongue, the black pits that are his eyes glittering with what seems like intrigue. "Pretty name."
"Thanks." I say stiffly, plastering what I hope is an appreciative smile on my face. I look almost pleadingly over to Wilbur, hoping for some kind of explanation. Thankfully, he seems to get my message.
"Schlatt's going to endorse us, and help us promote our campaign. With his endorsement we have a lot of credibility SWAG don't have and it gives us a really good chance of winning." He explains excitedly. Schlatt grins.
"What can I say, I like POG's policies, I think they'll be great for the country." He drawls, eyes fixed onto me.
"That's awesome!" I say, truthfully. Niki and I are still trying to figure out COCONUT, and I'd rather Tommy and Wilbur than George and Quackity.
Tommy nods excitedly, sitting at the table near me. "We're going to win this Rose. Schlatt's going to make us win."
I smile at him, some of the disbelief melting at the sight of his beaming expression, the genuine look of hope and determination in his blue eyes.
"I'll introduce you to Niki!" Wilbur says, and Tommy stands up to follow him outside the van. Schlatt lingers a little longer, one last long look before sending me a tiny wink that makes me want to throw up.
"I'll see you round, Rosie."
Did he just call me Rosie?
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A/N Welcome Mr Jschlatt to the story everyone! It's about to start getting pretty spicy soon, villain dream, sneaky villain Schlatt, fundy return, lots of angst and lots of me becoming completely unhinged as I write thirteen pages of unnecessary emotion because I am mentally ill and in desperate need of psychological evaluation. Fun for the whole family!
Hope you all enjoyed this one!
Oopsies x
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