"I really want to kiss you right now."
"Then do it."
"I can't."
--
In which Gracie Abrams watches Stranger things and ends up stalking the newest cast member.
Or
In which August isn't ready and Gracie would wait a lifetime for her.
--
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August sat alone in her house, the weight of her grief pressing down on her like a suffocating blanket. It had been weeks since Matteo had passed away, but the pain was still fresh, raw, and unyielding. Each day seemed to blur into the next, filled with an overwhelming sense of loss and emptiness.
Matteo had been August's rock, her confidant, and her source of endless joy. They had shared a love that seemed destined for eternity, their dreams entwined like delicate strands of silk. But fate had dealt them a cruel hand, stealing Matteo away in a sudden accident that shattered August's world into a million pieces.
In the beginning, the shock of Matteo's death had numbed her. She went through the motions of living, but her heart felt hollow, devoid of all hope. The vibrant colors of life had turned to shades of gray, and even the simplest tasks became arduous struggles. August withdrew from the world, cocooning herself in isolation, unable to bear the sight of happy couples or the sound of laughter that once brought her so much joy.
Her friends and family tried their best to console her, offering their support and a listening ear. But the void left by Matteo's absence was too immense to fill. They understood her pain, yet August felt alone in her grief, as if no one could truly comprehend the magnitude of her loss.
As the days turned into weeks, August's depression deepened. She found solace in her tears, the only constant reminder of her love for Matteo. She would sit for hours, clutching photographs and memories, hoping to hold onto the fragments of their time together. It was both a comfort and a torment, for each image brought a fresh wave of anguish, yet also a reminder of the love they had shared.
August's once-vibrant spirit began to wane, and her energy dwindled. The world outside her window felt distant and uninviting. Simple tasks like getting out of bed or eating a meal became monumental challenges. Time seemed to move in slow motion, the days blending together into a monotonous haze.
Everyday she called him, just to listen to his voicemail and when his number got recycled, she broke down.
The pain still seared through her like an open wound, and the weight of her loss was suffocating.
Unable to escape the overwhelming anguish, August sought solace in the only way she knew how-through the bottom of a bottle. Alcohol became her constant companion, numbing her pain, if only temporarily. Each drink brought a fleeting moment of relief, a respite from the harsh reality that he was gone forever.
But the numbness came at a price. As the days turned into weeks, August's drinking escalated. She drowned her sorrows, night after night, in the bitter embrace of whiskey and vodka. The lines between her waking hours and the alcohol-infused haze became increasingly blurred.
Friends and family tried to reach out, desperate to pull her from the dark abyss she had fallen into, but their efforts were in vain. August had shut herself off from the world, choosing the solitary confinement of her despair. She pushed away the people who cared, afraid to let them see the depth of her pain, convinced they couldn't understand.
