The Dark Of Our Worlds

A Fickle Thing

They say that distance makes the heart grow fonder and perhaps, the first three times Lorelai had run away, that had been true. Alma had screamed and cried for her, willing her to come home. She had dropped everything in hope that she could find her, reunite with her. 

But no longer. 

This time, the pain was too much. The hurt, the betrayal, the anger, it all pushed her over the edge from a flower field to a rocky shoreline. Of course, she still screamed, she still cried, but it wasn't for her love. It was at her. The pictures of them together sat face down in dresser drawers, alongside the letter Alma could no longer will herself to read. The chair beside hers at the dining table had been relocated to the kitchen. The family photo had been replaced with one from 1953; Lorelai gone, Abe and Victor stood proud. 

Alma had not told them, but the children knew Lorelai wasn't coming back, and even if she did, they highly doubted she would make it over the threshold. 

They had cried for a few days, begged Miss Peregrine to try and find her, begged her to even look. But no luck. Emma, Enoch and Olive had even drafted a letter to Miss Nuthatch, inquiring if Lorelai was there. The moment they gave it to Alma, it was cursed to the fire. 

She was done - done longing for someone who only hurt her. Done loving someone who obviously didn't love her back. Done opening herself up, only to have it thrown back at her. She was done. She had survived before Lorelai. She would survive after her. She had loved and loved, forgiven over and over again. She had taken Lorelai back only to be left again. But this was it. This was the straw that broke the camels back.

 Love - such a fickle thing. It could stretch and twist and strain but, like an elastic band too far pulled, it was bound to break eventually. And that was what had happened. Alma had been stretched too thin, and she had finally snapped. 

A/N - Just short and sad tbh. Love you <3