why don't we imagines

letting go - any why don't we member?

a/n: i wrote this really quick. It's sad but i hope you enjoy lol and tbh this can really be for anyone because i never say a name.. happy holidays and merry christmas to anyone who celebrates it<3

summary: it's time to let him go. you bring his stuff back to him. 

You stood behind the door, feet planted strongly on the puddled ground, a box in your arms. The same box you kept for almost three weeks, remaining in the corner of your room like some sort of monument you didn't want to mess with. And in a way that was true. Mementos were bundled up in there, some so fragile to look back on that they would shatter you in seconds.

The rain pattered gently, trickling down your back and dripping down your eyes like silent tears. You were enveloped in a warm, loving glow. The glow of Christmas night washing through the windows, whose curtains allowed for some peek into his happiness despite your own gloom. The merriment was palpable. So surreal to you, even after many sleepless nights without him. That level of joy seemed unattainable, and beyond your haze of envy, a part of you was happy for him. The part of your heart that was still heavy with his love.

You knocked, a couple light taps against the wood, silently hoping he wouldn't open right away. The reflecting luminescence of the evergreen warmed your heart, multi-colours flashing upon your skin. You thought fondly of him. Winter hugging the earth outside as you snuggled him inside. Melted into his side with hot chocolate spilling over the lip of your cup. His secure arms around you, his words: merry Christmas, love whispered against your hair from a year prior. The memory squeezed your heart.

There was no answer.

You knocked again, this time louder. The rain arrowed down harder, as if telling you maybe it was time to leave, or maybe it wasn't time to let this part of you and him go; that lingering fairy-tale idea of 'us'. You hugged the box tighter in your arms, shifting one hand from the bottom to wipe the droplets of water from your undereyes. You couldn't tell if they were tears or raindrops this time. Breaths of life behind the glass drifted your gaze.

You stared at the people safe and dry inside. People who once vowed to friendships stronger than the Earth itself. People who, now, didn't find themselves expressing support to you. Who merely watched on the other end as your life fell apart, glowing with light as you sank deeper in the darkness.

There was a creak, then he was right in front of you. "Hey," he didn't look at you, one hand perched on the doorframe. You noticed the way his eyes tracked down your soaked clothes.

You hesitated. "H-hey," You gestured to the box in your arms, "this is all your...stuff." You trailed off, trying to piece together what exactly you tossed in there weeks ago.

"I didn't think you'd give them back." He dropped his head.

"Well...I did." You said, an unconscious edge to your voice. "It's all in there."

He was barely given a chance to hold out his arms before the box was shoved into his chest, and he gave you a slight glare in return. You guessed it was easier that way, to just give all that stuff to him before your heart would pang with the inevitable hurt. But it wasn't.

He forced a smile. "Thanks,"

Laughter emerging from his end brought your thoughts back to Christmas night. The scent of hot chocolate and tree needles and crumples of wrapping paper Both of you fell quiet as an 'awe' broke out expectantly at whoever opened their gift.

"So?..."

You turned back to him. "So..." As absurd as it sounded, your face brightened with the hope of him inviting you in. Maybe just for a little bit.

"Merry Christmas," He spoke quickly, pulling the same fake grin.

The light in your face faded, and you pulled the best smile you could offer with a "Merry Christmas." in reply.

Embarrassed, you didn't give him a second glance before turning away, the warm light following you down to your car. The shadows of his figure remained for a few footsteps, then it disappeared. Maybe it was meant to be. Maybe following him into that house would've made it all worse. Maybe it was time to let him go.