Dream a little, Dream of me

I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it.

Eris sighed, running a hand through his hair. Lilliana's books were piled on the table, and he had to read them.

This was going to take a while. He had asked Isabella for coffee so that should be on the way. He opened the first book, and flipped the pages checking for any extra note. None found. Great.
And he went on checking six more books by skimming through the text and found some interesting novels that he kept aside to read them later. He liked reading.

He started the seventh book and a piece of paper slipped out, he picked it up, and it took a while to realise that his name was doodled multiple times in Lilliana's neat scrawl.
And it wasn't that it was doodled once or twice, the whole paper was filled with his name.
It was surprising, and on the backside of the same sheet was a sketch of him?

A pencil sketch as if she decided she would paint it later but forgot.

His breath caught looking at it.
This should mean something, and it did, but it was then when the realisation fully hit him that he had that chance.

She gave the signs and he was too dense to see them.

He had a chance with her, at a future with her, and he had ruined it, he had ruined everything.
One would say he was assuming but a sheet full of doodles of his name with hearts around it was pretty convincing.

He closed his eyes and sighed.
Could he not for once destroy something.
There was a fair chance for them and doing that to her was a wrecking ball to whatever he had with her.

He had no idea why his eyes were tearing up but he knew it was related to the fact that he blew it all up, and now he was dreading and regretting his actions. Only if there was a way to rewind the past.

He knew that he messed up and he also knew deep in his bones that she was hurting but how can you comfort someone who is just in your heart and not around you. And that also being your mistake.

He strongly regretted it.
Lilliana was the force of the wind that tore down his walls, and made him feel alive, she revived that ghost, that phantom, she made him live, and now-now it didn't matter.

He could imagine the hurt on her face, how her eyes would look, how those blue eyes would take it in and cry.

And it was his fault, his blame to take that he ruined it, she maybe felt something, maybe she didn't, but weren't these signs? It felt heavy on his chest, the burden of knowing felt heavy on his shoulders. The thoughts were dragging him under a current of feelings and it tore him in pieces that he blew it all.

That he knew he loved her.

And it pained.

And before he could register, a tear slipped down his cheek and on to that paper.
And then the dam broke and the tears poured out. The paper fell from his hand and he took his head into his hands trying to stop but this once he just couldn't, couldn't pack up the feelings.

Her scent that lingered in the room became overwhelming and it was painful to take in.
And he just sat down, his head in his hands, and his knees closed up. And he sobbed, carefree of anyone who could hear him.

He pulled on his hair, tried to stop crying but it was of no use.

His nose was closing up, he couldn't breathe-
He couldn't breathe-
He couldn't breathe-
Please-
Please-

The thought was a pleading to his heart and stop, for his mind to to stop, because it was painful to see flashbacks of her. It was too fucking painful.

In the canvas of his mind, her smile was painted all over, the smile should have been consoling, but it just brought out more tears.

Because her face was merged with Matthias' and it got more painful. His head was hurting.