The Twin Flame: Grumpy x Sunshine

Would've, Could've, Should've

"God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be. The tomb won't close, stained glass windows in my mind. I regret you all the time..."

You shakily exhale when you hear the door slam followed by complete and utter silence.

Gut-wrenching, deafening silence.

All alone once again.

At this point, it seemed like you were destined for a life alone. It was better that way, you'd told yourself so many times.

Your mind races. All your thoughts flood your psyche all at once. You can't stop thinking. It bombards you.

You're barely treading the choppy waters as it is, but you're floundering now.

You're drowning, you know you are.

You can't scream. Each inhale fills your lungs with those heavy feelings that threaten to drag you to a place where you'll never see the sun again. Each exhale leaves you sputtering until you're on the floor helpless.

And you just can't breathe.

Your leadened feet guide you to the center of the room where you sink to your knees, crumpled by the waves of heart-stopping hurt, begging for solace, begging for atonement, begging for it all to finally stop, for your tired heart to finally know peace.

You lean forward, your head hung so low it almost rests upon the floor. Your hands cup your face. You feel each silent tear slip between your fingers.

Your breath comes faster. You're not sure what you're doing anymore. Praying to some higher being that's never granted you mercy. Rocking yourself like the child you never got to be. Trying to compose yourself to be the soldier everyone expected you to be.

A pained gasp gets stuck in your throat.

You remember the guided meditations Bruce once made you do with him all that time ago.

You figure it's your best shot. Your foot slips beneath you. You force yourself to sit upright against all the weight pulling you down. You rest your hands in your lap. Your hands interlock of their own accord, your fingers grip each other so tightly it hurts.

The pain doesn't bother you as much as it probably should. Pain was simple. Pain was familiar. Even your bloodied, injured arm, that was easy to ignore.

It wasn't easy to keep pushing down the emotions raging against you, fighting your so hard they threatened to break out of your ribcage and tear right through your skin.

You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing yourself to focus on the memory of Bruce's words echoing through your head.

Breathe in.

Breathe through.

Breathe deep.

Breathe out.

You try them over and over again, trying to bring yourself back to a person you remember. You were sitting here all alone because of an ugly mess of pride, miscommunication, grief, and hurt. So, so much hurt.

And you didn't know how to fix it anymore.

Part of you wanted to scream that you couldn't even look at them anymore, that there was nothing that they could say to make any of this right again, that you didn't need them.

But you did need them.

You do need them.

It's clear to everyone that you do.

It's clear that you're not able to let any of it go: not the pain, not the hurt, not the thrill of it all, not the rush that came with it, and most certainly not them. It was selfish. You were selfish, but you weren't strong enough to let them go, and you most certainly weren't strong enough to hold onto them.