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-> synopsis: the last time Armando saw you, blood was leaking out from you as your life slowly left your body. Retreating from the scene, he couldn't bear to see all the pain that came from the unfortunate event. So why does he see you walking down the street so late at night?
-> format: short story/imagine.
-> theme: angst
-> warnings: mentions of death.
-> authors note: it's been a while! Hope you guys enjoy!
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It was currently 5am. I'm writing this passage on the 4th January, the anniversary of my girlfriend's death. I still remember the night. The sound of her heaves, gasps for air. Blood stained my royal blue shirt, bloody fingerprints scattered all around my shoulder as she was grabbing onto me to gather a couple more seconds of her life.
I really don't know why i'm writing this. I suppose it's to keep her alive. The memory of her alive. She used to do this , described it as a "great way to uncover your feelings". I used to think it was bullshit. Clearly i was wrong.
She always had a way with emotions. Always made me feel at peace even with my conflicting thoughts and feelings that were within me. My traumatic past looming over me and exposing himself through my actions, speech, everything. Yet, she never judged me. That picture of an "assassin" was never pinned onto me while i was with her. To her, i was Armando.
Una persona real.
I just wish she could come back. I miss you. Happy one year baby.
Also, happy birthday.
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Armando closed the journal and slid it back in his desk drawer, twisting the key to secure it being locked before putting it back in his denim pocket. A sentimental journal full of his feelings, of course it could not be found by a regular person.
Walking over to his double bed, the dim light of the lamp that was etched on the pillar next to his bedside table, illuminated that corner of the room. He looked up towards his tv, scrolling through the list of programmes to get his mind off things. Yet, nothing caught his eye. The horror movies just reminded him of when you constantly told him to turn it off, or when you used to snuggle your head into his shoulder in an attempt to hide from the jumpscares.
The romance movies where the woman and male lead confess their love to each other in a cheesy way. The same programmes you used to love. The same programmes you used to force him into watching with a candle lit on the table, eating your favourite takeout. A vanilla fragrance shifting through Armando's nostrils as you wore that perfume he got you as a random gift. Vanilla jasmine.
His favourite smell on you.
Your pearly white teeth lit up the room as you exclaimed while giving him the gift. Your soft fingertips wrapping around Armando's neck as you jumped upon him to show your appreciation.
He could feel himself smiling at the memories of you. Back when everything was okay. "Hazte con el control Armando. Tienes que dejarla ir."
Sighing, Armando got up and turned towards the bedroom door before pottering down the stairs. Slipping his black airforces on he trailed to the front door before turning the key and opening it. The coldness of the fresh air slowly hit him as he stepped outside, not before checking his surroundings and locking the door. "Tsk. Habits."
Walking down the street, the sun slowly peeked above the skyline. Neither illuminating the whole sky, yet it not being completely dark either. Armando walked through the convenience store, the bell dinging at his presence. Scanning through the stalls, he grabs blue sour candy and some protein bars before standing behind a woman at the till.
Her hair was chestnut brown, with loose curls falling delicately at the brown-skinned girls shoulders. A freckle was dotted along the back of her neck before slowly crawling past her ears and down to her top clavicles. Armando's eyebrows raised slightly at the similar resemblance to his dead partner.
As the woman turned her face in order to exit the store, a glimpse of her profile was shown to the latino whose eyes widened.
"There's no way.."
The recognition of the males husky voice, caused the woman to quickly turn around to face him. Her mouth agape in shock.
"Pensé que estabas muerto."
Her brown eyes quickly filled with tears as her hands trembled, dropping the plastic bag filled with groceries. "Armando.."
Armando's hands reached out towards hers in awe, his face scrunched up in an attempt to distinguish reality and a dream. "You owe me an explanation."
"I was scared.. I cant."
"Aquí no. My place.
A sigh erupted from the brown-skinned girls who slowly crouched to pick back up the bag that was discarded on the floor.
A bell was heard dinging and the two were gone.
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[🌱] 𝑻𝑹𝑨𝑵𝑺𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺:
"Una persona real" : A real person. "Hazte con el control Armando. Tienes que dejarla ir." : Get a grip Armando. You need to let her go. "Pensé que estabas muerto." : I thought you was dead. "Aquí no." : Not here.
