SoMa One-Shots

Alone

I sit in the corner and think, sniffling. I wrap myself in my partner's old signature jacket. A tear escapes and I sigh. I had made Soul into a death scythe, and he left me. I never expected it, but he left me. I've had almost no contact with him ever since he left. I haven't talked much to anyone except Liz, either. I hadn't realized how shelled up I would be without my partner. I guess it's time to face what I've been trying to deny as I feel the urge to call Soul: I'm in love with him. Yep, you read that right. You know how sometimes you just haven't had contact with your friend that moved away for so long, and then you want to call them, but it's too late, because you're afraid they won't remember you or it'll be really awkward? Yeah, I know about it firsthandedly. I feel the itching need to call him, to talk to him, to go to him, but I resist it because I'm not sure how he will react. I'm not even sure if he'll know me anymore. I jump up as the mail truck squeals to a stop, rousing me from my thoughts. I trudge dejectedly to the mail and bring it into my room, looking through it. Junk, junk, taxes, and... What's this? I look at it, puzzled. The envelope is fancy, with frills and lace. It's from an address I don't recognize, but the handwriting looks familiar. Could it... No, too much to hope for. I decide that it's worth looking at, and rip it open, disliking the expensive packaging. I open the fancy card, and put my hand over my mouth, stumbling in disbelief. My back hits a wall, and I slide down into a sitting position, sobs breaking from my chest, tear ducts disfunctional, my mask of self-control broken. Soul is getting married.