Memories feel like the sharp paper cuts from the torn post-it notes inside a cookie jar, crumpled and pressed inside space and sometimes pampered and sometimes lonely. They're so buried within the final echoes of your soul that you eventually become lost in yourself, and it's in vain that you try to escape it. To escape the guilt, the tears, the humanity.
Because, after all, what he did wasn't unexpected. You should have known there to be something wicked laced on that addicting smile, roots of trauma biding on his tongue. He moves on, saunters away like the ghosts dispersing at the crack of dawn; nothing trails in his wake, not even you. You can't follow him like you normally do, finding solace in a mellifluous voice.
He didn't leave you behind if you had chosen to stay. Wasn't that how it worked?
You find the world stopping at your eyes, still and monotonous without him. He doesn't breathe colour onto the lily pads curtailing the ponds besides school, or the sky as the hours tick by. You forget a lot of things when feeling his absence.
They say that soulmates are your other half, but does that mean you're never quite full, never human enough? Was he a trespassing soul when he walked all over your heart and snatched the banes of your thoughts by filling them with him, and him only?
Just because your lips fitted perfectly against each other didn't give any value to those fake glinting eyes and even fake smile. Words meant nothing when they come crawling of a person who had hurt you.
Because he did hurt you.
And even though he had created this void where your heart used to be, broke all the ribs in your gilded cage, and made every thought in infinity about him, you still hear it sometimes, the good old days. You still sent him that one text, cried about it at one in the morning and then deleted it the morning after.
You lied to me but I still love you.
Was it love? Call it love? Love. You want him to say those three words, seven letters. You want to hear it again so badly you're running across the universe just to swim in celestial forlorn, for him. Tooru, Tooru, Tooru.
He won't ever forget you.
Because, he'll come back. And when he does, you'll open that cookie jar brimming with sad memories and try to make the broken pieces of your heart okay.
YOU ARE READING
BEAUTY IN DEATH / hq drabbles
Fanfiction( hq chars x reader oneshots ) my heart pines for something i know is unattainable, so why? do you hate me, god? how does one find beauty in the death of their creation? my heart is gone; you had taken it.
