{amor (noun) - an intense feeling of deep affection}.
y/n's pov:
One day, I will conjure up the strength to let all of this go.
I will accept the terrible parts of myself that I see when I look in the mirror, and I will drown them in tears and loneliness as I finally open myself up to the ocean and sink to the bottom.
I'll open my eyes and take in the salty water around me, embracing the cold on my skin as my feet finally touch the floor, allowing me to stand.
My toes will sink into the sand, allowing the grains to envelop my skin and stick to the sides of my feet. The sensation felt so familiar – so real that I stopped to look around, and there they were.
I'd find Chuck and Vince drinking tea while they played cards around a stone table, and I'd smile, because I always knew they'd get on.
I'd sit down beside them, look to my right and find myself laugh at something Thomas had said, not because I thought it was funny, but because it was something so utterly ridiculous that I was shocked he even said it in the first place.
I'd nod my head at Alby as he wandered past with Winston, deep in their own conversation, and then watch as Jorge came bundling in behind them, almost knocking them over with surprise.
He'd shout my name once he noticed me there and pull me into a cripplingly painful hug and yet, I wouldn't even mind, just embrace it for as long as it would last.
He'd ask me about Brenda, and talk about how he missed her, and would do anything to see her again. I'd tell him she missed him dearly, and wished she were with him.
His smile deflated.
I'd look away from his eyes momentarily to see Mary and Lincoln as they crossed the sand, heading towards Vince.
He'd embrace them both warmly, planting a kiss on their foreheads.
I'd look around the table of those I had been wishing to see again and paused.
This was everything I had wanted for as long as I could remember and yet, something felt wrong.
I'd stay sat in my chair, watching the others around me as they came to a stop around the table. Jorge had redirected his attention and was therefore giggling at Thomas' comment. Vince was still kissing his wife as their son grimaced at the pair as he watched them, but for some reason didn't move away or leave.
A pair of hands on my shoulders hoisted me from my thoughts and was suddenly on my feet and looking Alby in the eyes.
It had been years since I had seen him but, here he was, his expression cold.
"You need to leave."
His tone was the most shocking - he was serious about not wanting me there.
A muscle twitched in his jaw, but his expression did not change. He didn't want me there, and once I looked out at the others around the table, I noticed their sudden silence. They were all looking at me, unblinking.
Vince's eyes were dark and solemn.
"You don't belong here, y/n."
I knew he wouldn't forgive me. I didn't blame him.
"But...I don't want to leave-"
Thomas cuts me off, sharply.
"You have to."
They didn't want me, not after everything I've done.
I tried to reason with them, but they all had the same look on their faces.
