Silver Stars ➣ j. kline

ten

➣ [ OUR HAPPIEST MEMORIES & OUR DARKEST SECRETS ] ➣

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THERE WERE NO words that could properly describe the pain Arya Warner felt as her soulmate slipped away from her. She couldn't see straight, her legs barely able to hold her body up until she stumbled into the kitchen. Her hands found purchase against the island countertop and she held onto it for dear life.

There were no more tears left, just dry, heaving sobs. This was worse than Dreamroot, worse than when her mother died, and worse than when her Noah died. She'd never felt this type of agony before.

It hurt to breathe. Her lungs wanted to cave in, forgetting that oxygen was just as needed as him to operate. She couldn't get enough air as she sobbed. Despite this, she couldn't find it in herself to care. It didn't matter.

Finally, her knees gave out on her and she fell to the floor, curling up under the island with her knees to her chest, arms curled around them, hands locking together.

She glanced up through blurry eyes, memories washing over her.

"Arya, the white stuff got on my face!"

"This isn't funny!"

"Arya, stop laughing!"

A hoarse chuckle escaped her lips. She couldn't remember laughing that hard in a long time.

Arya held those memories close to her heart. She remembered hearing that the first thing you forget about a person was their voice. Would she really forget Jack's voice? Would she forget the way he laughed? The way he smiled?

Yes, she would.

She was a cosmic entity, meant to live for eons. Eventually, she'd forget everything.

That realization caused a fresh wave of harsh sobs to wrack her figure, but there were no more tears. She's gasping for breath now, she can't see anything anymore, and the steel of the island feels so cold against her burning skin.

How had it come to this?

What had she done to evoke such a punishment?

Was she really such a disgusting being, so unnatural, that this was her punishment? To be forever just out of reach of her happiness?

"Oh, Arya," the voice makes her jump back, eyes wide and puffy.

A familiar trench coat and the faint smell of the woods enveloped her form. She wrapped her arms around Castiel as he sat under the island counter with her. She was practically on top of him, tears staining his shirt as she dug her face into his shoulder. He held her without complaint until it was merely hiccups.