On Behalf of Your Absence

For everything that he’d already lost, Charles couldn’t group in this melancholic aura with any particular thing he’s ever known.

That was the oddest consistency within the way he regards Samara, even now. For years, a man thinks he’s seen Hell and spent the greater facet of his adulthood mulling through it, only to find that he’d never learned. Something that should’ve left him feeling foolish, but instead brandished him with the sort of sadness that might as well have been enough to stifle his drive for the sake of anything, or anyone. Maybe he was a fool, though he never acknowledges it. Not anymore. And he could ponder all he wanted, despite the fact that the truth was blunt and undeniable; There isn’t anything worth feeling now, besides regret. A bleak, disconnected, all-consuming regret that made itself known since the moment she’d cried on his behalf. Regret that he had left anyway, not knowing how haunted he’d spend his days walking along London streets. Another distinction, because that woman made it a point to stand alone before all the lessons he’d learned to their core since Wales. Since Gweneth.

He’d missed Gwen, he’d loved her. More than anything, and at a time, he would’ve stayed with her no matter what it might’ve cost him. Until the price was her happiness, and that much was enough to send him running, because it was what she’d wanted. Staying would’ve been selfish, at that point. So leaving, in a general sense, was the easy part. With every heartbreaking rhetoric, and moral irrevocably hard to swallow, Charles never feared that he’d be unable to live without her. Another something different. Another sad, stupid reality in his twisted life of fleaing as soon as his home would be left better of if he went away. Wales, the US. Eventually London, he’s sure. No matter where he goes, there’s an inevitable misstep and the consequence is an individual decision centered on personal banishment.
 
That’s the way he’d intended for things to evolve, as far as he was concerned. However, becoming a new citizen again, starting over once more. He’d done everything as he had the first time around, and yet this grief felt unbelievably foreign. Playing with the reasons, and toying with his fragile grasp on understanding how the foreseeable future had gone so sour, a truth rang jarringly crystal as he drove to his first company event with Ellesmere, six months into his new position; He should’ve known that this wouldn’t be the same. Not even close. And, he should’ve realized it, for all this time, he’s been aware that the U.S. isn’t Wales. That circumstances harbor complexities deeper than what can be construed as consistency between them. That Samara isn’t Gweneth. 

He got too scared to explore as much, because Charles didn’t know how to be happy, without being selfish again. But above all of that, the image of her devastated tone and tear laced goodbye branded his heart, and he hated himself on behalf of what they could’ve had...and never would.

Parking his car, exiting the driver’s side, and regarding the venue with indifference, Charles took shelter in his stillness. Making no moves to join his co-workers beside their strides for the large, overtly grandiose entrance. He opted to reel beneath the dreaded way he'd come to understand the world. All the time he’d wasted running away from this chance of repeating his mistakes, never realizing how needlessly he feared the impossible. And, of course, he realized it too late. He stands here now. Alone. Having ruined everything.
I guess old habits die hard.
Left without any ambitions or hesitance, Charles sighed, and made way for a charity ball. Tolerated before enjoyed, as are all of the road stops in his walk of a failed life. He’d keep failing in spite of how it continued numbing him, for the sake of avoiding the inconvenience of death. There’s more to life than joy, and success. There’s also dread. That’d be enough, for now..

***One Hour Later***

“Ah, Charles!” 

Charles turned, torn away from his plan to distract his mind by counting tiles and tracing patterns with his gaze all evening. This hall was intricate enough for him to stay overnight doing just that, and it would honestly beat having to socialize, despite how capable he was of putting on a polite, companionable smile for the man who had called his name. I don’t want to be around anyone right now.