Crazy Girls (One of Those) - Klance [Sequel to 'Pacify Her']

If you're not here when I break in, I'm gonna go through your closet

Just so I can smell your skin

Eventually, after I had double-checked every single room in the house at least five times, I ended up in Lance's bedroom.

It is a quaint little room. A twin-sized bed with a light cyan comforter is pushed into the corner of the room right beside the single, square window that's half-covered by thin white drapes. A couple of aged-looking stuffed animals, two dogs, and a bear were thrown lazily on top of the pillows and it makes my heart warm at the idea of him keeping them despite their childish nature. The off-white painted walls are littered with various posters, paper, and sticky notes. Numerous photographs are pinned onto the walls and placed onto the surface of his desk and dresser. Many of them feature images of him and his friends, as well as a few with his humongous family all crowded into one small frame.

I wander over to the short, wooden desk right to the left of his bed and carefully lift the framed photo that sat on top of it. It is a photo of him with Hunk and Pidge, a selfie it appeared. He seemed to have been holding the camera, Hunk glowing with a soft, cheery smile to his right and Pidge grinning reluctantly behind her wide-framed glasses to his left. Lance sported a wide, toothy, charming smile, the joyful expression that makes my heart melt every time I see it. He wore a silly wink, his blue eyes sparkling with his ever-so-contagious delight and it makes my chest feel physical pain as I wish that I could get a glance at those gorgeous eyes in person again.

The longer I stare at the photo, the more pain, hurt, and remorse begins to flood into my chest until, suddenly, a drop of liquid falls onto the plastic film and I recognize that it had come from my face. I quickly reach a hand up to wipe at my leaky eyes but soon give up upon the realization that it is no use.

I inhale a deep, unsteady breath before placing the photo face-down back onto the wooden surface, the pain it was inducing on me starting to become overwhelming.

Swallowing deeply, I gradually pace over to the closet, slowly opening the wooden door to reveal the narrow space behind it that seemed to only fit a number of clothing items. I apprehensively bite my bottom lip as I gingerly graze a gentle hand across the soft fabric of the shirts and jackets that hung inside of the cramped area. I then feel another cold tear drip down my cheek as I unhook the hooded olive green cargo jacket that he seems to wear almost any day that allows him to. The jacket that I have fallen in love with almost as much as I have him.

I stare down at the jacket, smoothing my thumbs over the rough, yet at the same time soft fabric as I hold it tight in my grasp, the ache in my heart intensifying by the minute. I hold the jacket up to my face, inhaling deeply to take in every scent, every essence, everything I could possibly intake that he had left within the piece of clothing.

It smells just like him.

And then just like that, I completely break down, all the pent-up hurt and pain that had been building all day finally bursting out from inside of me.

I cry—loud, hard, and ugly as I collapse to the ground, the agonizing pain in my chest pounds away fiercely and relentlessly. I cry until the jacket is soaked and my eyes are sore. I cry until I have no tears left to spill and my head spins from dehydration and all I can do is merely wail and scream in heartbreaking misery.

It smells just like him. It has his cologne, his sweat, his tears, his skin, his home, his life, it's just so... him. The most of him that I can get and the thought of that makes me feel nearly sick to my stomach in longing and painful desire. I want absolutely nothing more than to see him again, to feel him again, to smell him again.

I just want to make it up to him. All the awful things I said to him need to be corrected and I just want to do anything I possibly could to make him be with me again. I absolutely hate myself for what I did and although I will never forgive myself, I want nothing more than for him to find it in himself to forgive me.

Because if he doesn't—if he never forgives me, if he never looks at me with his beautiful eyes, if he never touches me with his smooth, warm skin, if he never loves me again as he did once,

I simply will not be able to live anymore.

Wow I actually didn't take an entire month hiatus this time, I'm on a roll lol. Hope ya'll enjoy! More to come soon!