"HOW NICE OF YOU TO JOIN ME, NATALIA.."
"IT'S ACTUALLY NATASHA, BUT, CLOSE ENOUGH.."
"WHATEVER DUMBASS.."
---
loss
noun
plural noun: losses
1. the fact or process of losing something or someone.
"Losing someone you love, it doesn't ever go a...
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"I MAKE THIS STOP.."
---¤☆¤---
Just wake up, Natasha. Wake up. WAKE UP! Snapping her eyes open, she collapses to the floor, her whole body trembling uncontrollably. Sweat and tears dripped down her face like a waterfall. Gasping for air, she hunches over violently gagging at the feeling of something sour creeping up her throat. Was she dying? It felt like she was dying. Or was she about to puke? Sbe couldn't tell.
Digging her nails into the ground, she could care less if she was practically smothering herself in alley gunk. She'd deal with that later. Opening her mouth, a string of saliva fell out, it's bitter and only makes her gag even more. Spitting out some saliva, she wipes her mouth clean with her sleeve, but she can still taste the bitterness in her mouth. It lingered there.
"Gods.." She grunts out, gagging.
"Natasha? Natasha! Oh my god, are you okay?" A familiar voice calls, her vision blurring.
"L⎯Luke..?" She whispers, lifting her head.
"Yeah, it's me. Hey, hey, hey keep your eyes open." He rambles, "You okay? What happened? Hey, talk to me, kid."
She doesn't respond. She can't respond. Not when her brain still going a million miles per hour, trying desperately to figure out what the fuck was happening to her. Her chest rises and falls at an alarming rate, a flood of tears falling down her face. She knew she probably looked like⎯in the most kindest way⎯like shit. She felt like it too. Rocking herself back and forth, she bites down on her lip, her body trembling violently.
"Hey, let's get you home. How's that sound? That sound good?" He coaxes, brushing away the tears.
"Home..Take me home.." She slurs, her vision blurring.
"I will. I promise, I'll get us a taxi." He nods, "We'll⎯I'll get you home."
"Luke.." She breathes out, her voice light and wobbly.
Staring at Luke with blurry eyes, more tears fill her eyes at the thought of this being another illusion⎯or whatever it was. Luke wasn't here. He couldn't be. He left. He left her. He said he was leaving New York. This couldn't be real. Stroking her cheek with his thumb, she places her hand on his, praying that he doesn't melt away into a cloud of mist. He doesn't melt away. He doesn't melt away. Tightening her grip on his hand, he gives her cheek a small reassuring squeeze.
"You're not real.." She whispers, "You're here."
"I am here. I'm not going away, kid. You're not gonna lose me, I'm here to stay." He reassures, his voice wavering.
"You left. You can't be here. You're not real. You can't be real." She whimpers, shaking her head.
