Hozier Imagines - V

Loss (Potentially Part I?)

The world had kept living. It felt like a crime to watch life continue as you felt a living death. Your friend had passed away a week ago and you have spent the time busying yourself with work and rotting about the house. Andrew would be home soon. He was half across the world when you had called and explained the loss between gasps of air and cries. He did his best to comfort you, to get the quickest flight home. But you didn't really care, no one felt like they could comfort you the way you needed. You had never been a linear person and grief was a stranger that let themselves in when they pleased and roam free. You had no choice but to set the table when he arrived.

Brenda was a light to the world. An environmentalist artist you had known since you were young. You picked on her for her "old woman" name and she had called you "legs" because of your small height. She always told you despite being built like a sprite you were the tallest in the room. Whatever that meant. She traveled often so you spent less time together in adulthood, but she would always call, and ramble for hours about her adventures, the people she met, the food. She was a hippy with a rich woman's eclectic taste. You on the other hand were organized, simple, clean dressed and happy working. Yin and Yang, she made you loosen up a bit, even introduced you to Andrew who was not her friend but, "a very handsome glass of water," she met at a pub in Ireland and shoved your number in his hands.
And now she was gone. And you were grasping at anything to hold on, as if she were lost, and if you consumed her favorite food, listened to her playlists, and watched her favorite films she would pop out of a corner and smile. She didn't.

You now sat in the living room, no fire lit, in the dark and wrapped in a blanket she had left at the house during a visit. The alarm for the gate buzzed, and you heard quick tires fly up the gravel. Andrew rushed in a few moments later and fell to his knees in front of you. His friend brought in his bags in silence.

You looked down at him, his eyes were so wide, scanning your face but his body unmoving. He would not move until you asked. He stared and did not break eye contact.

Andrew's POV:
She looked so tired, not sick, she had been eating thank god, but so tired. Her gray eyes were lifeless and she had barely shifted when I approached her. I sat there, waiting, after what felt like decades, I looked to Finn who had set the last of my bags in. His face solemn and he took off his hat and pressed it to his chest. I nodded and he turned and left.
"Love," I finally croaked. The sight of her like this made my mouth dry. She cracked a weak smile and I couldn't bear it.
"It's ok."
I rose and grasped her in my arms. I held her head against my chest and breathed. No words could heal the wound torn through her, not for a long time. So I held her as if it was the only thing my arms were capable of.
She lifted her head a bit, "Are you hungry Andrew?" My heart shattered. I had seen her like this before once. Her grandfather had passed and she went between feeling nothing to everything, but always worried about others. She would be paranoid someone else would die. And in this moment she felt nothing, but needed to do something.
"Are you wanting to cook?" The words felt raw on my tongue but I couldn't tell her to rest, it would make it worse.
She nodded waiting for a suggestion.
"Have you gone in town?" I asked.
She nodded again, "I bought salmon yesterday." Her head fell down and she looked at nothing on the floor. I grabbed her head and kissed her forehead. Staring across to the kitchen, trying to keep the tears from my eyes.
"That sounds perfect."
And like a command she stood and wrapped in that godforsaken blanket walked to the kitchen and prepped for dinner in silence. The blanket was not horrible but very old. The strings mangled and pilling. Sunflowers similar to Van Gogh's were on it and I always hated it because Brenda would drink with her then smoke with it on and bring it inside, but now my love wore it like armor and I could withstand the smell. I watched her cook, moving so slow but focused. She handed me the bigger piece with some rice as a side and it took all of my strength to ignore the pit in my stomach as she picked at her food. I took the dishes and washed them then opened my arms and she crawled in. I carried her upstairs and sat her on the bed.
"I need to shower, get the airplane smell off, care to join?"
She said nothing for a moment then nodded no but I didn't argue.
"Can I just sit with you?" She meant while I showered. Personal space had no limits in our home. So she followed me and I undressed as she sat on the cool tile of our bathroom swallowed in the blanket. Once I was done I went to get dressed and she remained on the floor. I grabbed some worn pajamas and put them on before my foot caught the pant leg and I tripped and grabbed for the dresser to not fall. A quick motion caught my eye and she was in the bathroom doorway, a panic on her face.
"It's alright baby, I just tripped a bit." Her eyes scanned me for injury so I did a little spin.
"See? I'm okay." She nodded and crawled into bed.
I followed her like a dog. We lay there and she put her head on my chest.
"Sleep, tomorrow we can deal with some more."
"I don't want to," she sighed.
"I know, but you will, so sleep. When you wake I'll take anything you give me. Always."