the progress project [3]

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fiona

she opts to walk to the cemetery to visit elijah, still refusing to drive after the accident. the temperature has risen a little, but it's still too cold for her not be wearing a trench coat and beanie.

she holds a bouquet of irish wildflowers and sets them on his grave, releases a breath to compose herself—

a choked cry interrupts her, and she turns to look... christian?

a few yards away from her, he sits at a grave, a bouquet of roses crushed in his hands. his bleach-blonde hair sticks out in every direction unlike its normal tidiness, and the jacket on him doesn't hide the sweatpants he wears.

"christian," she states, sitting next to him. he doesn't turn to look at her, but relaxes a little at her touch.

his face is blotchy, and she listens intently the second he opens his mouth. "her name was kristen."

she waits as he inhales and exhales, and his hand is clammy in hers. "we met when she went into the manhattan psychiatric center three years ago after her uncle had sexually abused her. i became her caretaker. she was so strong and had a wicked sense of humor and she had these little tics she'd do... like, when she was upset, she would chew on the tip of her tongue, or when she was happy, she would chew on the inside of her bottom lip, or when she was nervous she would rub her thumb against her ring finger. i was so soft for her, and she knew it. we ended up having our first kiss on the night of thanksgiving when she refused to go home because of her family problems. to cheer her up, i had brought the cafeteria food to her room, and she... everything with her was just was magical, and exciting. we fell in love, planned our futures. i wanted to marry her. she was recovering rapidly, and when she took the test of whether or not she was ready to go, she passed. i was going to quit the day she got out, but then her father called me from her phone..."

shit, shit, shit. fiona wants to curse aloud. no one deserves this.

"kristen overdosed," he laughs to play it cool, but bursts into another round of tears, the sobs wracking his body like an exorcism. "s-she... she was the love of my life, and i didn't even get to propose to her."

"i'm sorry," fiona whispers, hand curling around his shoulder. she doesn't have an ounce of jealousy in her, and she shouldn't. what christian and kristen had was beautiful, and neither of them had a right to lose each other that way. "she seems like a great woman."

he cries into her, and this time, she holds him for comfort like he's done for her.