A Throne Amongst the Stars

Tui Fidelis Devotus

[A/N]: Hello my lovely readers! I have returned with another chapter for you. I sincerely apologize for my absence. I'm sorry I left with no rhyme or reason, or any type of message as to when I would be back to you all, because I wasn't sure when I would. I will try to upload regularly once again. Please keep me in your thoughts and prayers as my physical health has taken a serious toll on me. I love you all and hope you enjoy! 🖤 -K]

🌌 This chapter is extremely long, and is severely saddening. 🌌]
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{Third Person Perspective}
{2 Weeks Later}

Poe's hand tightly gripped the liquor glass that was fiercely dripping with cold condensation. The furious heat of his hand and the polar-like temperatures of the glass itself were warring against the other, resulting in the wood grained countertop being marked with uncontrollable drips of liquid.

He placed the now empty reservoir onto the bar's counter, but his aching eyes never left the intricate grains of the counter itself. He didn't care for the designs of the countertop, but had sorrowfully arrived at the realization that there would never be anything more beautiful or interesting to admire, other than that which he had lost.

The loose ice clinked around the interior of the glass as Poe rubbed his swollen and burning eyes. They were irritated from the inhuman amounts of liquor he had consumed in the past two weeks, but also because of the countless tears of grief he had endured in the same amount of time.

"How about it, pal? Finished for the night?" The bartender wiped the exterior of a beer mug with a clean dishtowel as he studied Poe's monotonous expression.

Every night was the same routine. A lonely and severely depressed Poe would enter the bar, refuse to mingle or say more than three coherent words to anyone, and drink until he could hardly exit the bar with confident steps.

The bartender was worried for this stranger, even if he didn't understand what brought him here.

Poe ushered the glass towards the bartender, his darkened eyes flicking dangerously. "Another." He grimly muttered, placing his elbows in preparation for another alcoholic beverage to numb his body and mind.

No matter how valiantly he drank, he never found an answer or solution to his mourning at the bottom of the glasses. He wanted to drown his sorrows, but the bottom of the glass always came up dry.

And the image of her never abandoned him.

"Please, Poe...Please don't leave me again. I don't think I could handle that..."

Just thinking of her brought painful sobs to the surface, and he had already attempted to subdue his feelings with more than seven drinks tonight. His tolerance was increasing, but so was his deterioration.

"Listen," the bartender began, resting a hand on the countertop, "Perhaps you should take it easy tonight, okay? You've been here for days and I'm getting worried for you. I'm sure your lady is also worried for you as well." He situated the towel over his shoulder as he inspected Poe's face that was vehemently reddened: from the liquor and from his undying wrath.

Any mention of her tore gaping holes through him that were unbearable and unable to be healed.

With a grumble, Poe stared at the worried bartender. "Another damn drink." His words were laced with fury, anger, and bitter sadness.

With all the tears he had lost within the recent two weeks, he found it crucial to fill up on the last reserve that just barely numbed his agony.

"Please, please, Poe! Please don't leave me again! My Poe, please! I'm sorry, my love, please don't abandon me!"