You're Not Forgiven Yet (Percabeth AU)

ORIGINAL DRAFT/STORY

"Long," she said, her normally calm voice reduced to that of shrill scream. Her eyes were glinting with that of a madman. A gust blew by, spiraling and curling in the salty air. The winds sang with eerie harmony.

"Live," her metal-tipped boot raised, time seemed to slow down. The lapping and misty water underneath his dangling feet never felt any closer.

"The" she cackled, her laughter, nothing like that of her own, rather that one of a stranger. Her rows of teeth never looked any sharper as they glinted maliciously. Thunder could be heard in the background. A strange fuzziness buzzed in his ears.

"Captain." she whispered finally, her voice sounding chillingly like her regular one, rather than the one earlier. It rang familiar and unfamiliar in his ears. The sounds coming out of her vocal cords almost got lost in the storm if it wasn't for the fact that he was still giving her all of his attention. He could hear just the littlest bit of tenderness in the one word, or maybe that was just his imagination.

He hated the fact that he could be so naive and so hopelessly hopeful in something so hopeless.

He hated the fact that she had taken his heart and crushed it in her fingers, yet he continued to give her all of his adoration.

He hated the fact that she would hold his gaze, captivate his attention, even in this maniacal state.

Her leather boot fell onto his remaining fingers. And the fuzziness was gone and the world became excruciatingly clear. He could feel his nails scream, his flesh tear. He could hear his bones cracking painfully broken at the impact. The sound gave him melancholy, reminding him of the times before when they were setting crackling fireworks into the air and singing drunken songs of victory.

Her ringing insane laughter, however, brought him back into reality. The churning water tumbled and clashed onto his feet, soaking into the soles of his boots, he felt his socks getting drenched. The ocean was hungry, opening its ever-widening jaws, its anticipation felt by all.

More lightning flashed.

Her form now was merely a shadow in the dark atmosphere, he thought it was almost metaphorical. Her dark appearance symbolizes the fact that she is now merely a shadow of her former self, and shadows were well, dark.

If it was back then, she would have playfully punched his arm and told him that he was thinking too deep into it all. And that some things were just the way they were and that he should just accept it while it lasts. He could imagine clearly what she would say. He could almost see her wispy hair. Her heart-shaped lips moving into a response.

"You're getting too deep for me! With you and your words, your theories, and whatever. Some things are just the way they are, there doesn't have to be a reason for everything." she said, her body widespread on the cool evening grass. Her voice was like a twittering songbird, Light and pretty.

"You're just not smart enough yet" was his favorite response.

"You know I don't want to be like that ever. right?"

"Well you don't want to be like that yet, being smart is great."

"Yet, you're obsessed with that word."

"It's a good word, you just don't like it yet."

And she would just roll her eyes.

He often emphasized the word yet. He liked the word yet. It meant hope, it meant something that could happen, it meant the open possibilities, it meant the fact that anything could happen.

It meant something unsure. A perhaps, a maybe. It wasn't a direct rejection nor an impossible promise just waiting to be broken. It was anticipation, it was promising that everything would eventually work out, it was simple, yet complex. He could go on and on about his interpretations of one seemingly simple word. He has always been like this, over-analyzing, over-thinking.

He remembered back then in their childhoods when he would think late into the night about all his questions and curiosities. He would wonder, out loud under the stars. And despite him "getting too deep", she would always be by his side, with her snarky comments, and sparkling eyes.

They would count the stars and fantasize about dreams too big and adventures too wide. They would listen to each other's voices and each word that rolled out of each other's mouths no matter how absurd or peculiar they were. They were in their own little world back then, simple and content.

But that's all back then.

She is reduced to a maniac, with nothing sane and no morals. While he continued to drift in the past, he never moved on from what they were and what he thinks they would have been.

He became a lovesick and broken man.

He knew it wouldn't be long until he would be reduced to one like her. Driven insane, and losing all senses. But he didn't want to let go, not yet.

He wasn't ready yet.

His reminiscence in the past faded as he grappled for any last remains of better times. But everything slipped through his calloused and scarred fingers and his present came back into view.

Her body was outlined by the bright bolts. The sky and sea, equally ferocious. The raven black storm clouds and the crashing tides. Her stance, triumphant and arrogant. Her eyes reflecting the dark hurricane and losing all its past glimmer. But his eyes rebelliously stayed glued to her. Everything little detail, every little emotion flicking through her posture and face.

His remaining hand slipped as it was stomped on once more and he didn't resist.

He fell.

The wind whistled in his ears.

The turbulent water grew more and more expectant.

"I'm sorry," he said, giving his love one last smile. He knows that this would be lost in the gusts. He knows that she was too far gone, but at the same time, the littlest part of him, the naive, stubborn, and childish part carried hope. Or like he would have said when he was younger.

"She would turn back, she just hadn't yet."

So he mustered all the hope and happiness he had left and given it to her. He passed it on to her, he gave her his soul, his spirit, his everything that made him he. All his Yets that weren't spoken yet, that weren't carried out yet.

He doesn't wonder if she received it or not.

Because he had already let the given-up, hopeless, crippled, and broken shell of a man take the fall into the dark caving chasm.

He plunged into the bottomless depths

and wasn't seen again.

Somewhere on a ship, a singular teardrop falls down a beaten and scarred face.

Somewhere on a ship, a bang would resonate into the air.

Somewhere on a ship, a stream of red would follow.

Somewhere on a ship, a voice like that of a songbird would whisper,

"Forgive me."

THERE IT IS! PLEZ COMMENT, VOTE AND GIMME A FOLLOW!  Thank you for reading, I love you Eggrolls! 

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~Alllis_da_human <33

(Also, I write plez instead of Please is because I'm lazy, not cus I have spelling issues.)