Summary: Her favourite song comes on the radio... and the Professor can't bear to hear it and be reminded of everything he's lost. Set in the aftermath of Unwound Future.
The clinking of spoons on the sides of cups, knives and forks against plates, idle background chatter, a faint radio somewhere in the corner of the room, and the gentle hissing of steam... the sounds blurred together in Hershel's head like a thick blanket wrapping around his body.
It was exactly what he needed to soothe his nerves after the exhaustion of the past couple of days.
Police interviews. Press interviews. Questions of both needless fluff and probing interrogation.
Devastation. Rubble. Fire. Explosions.
Goodbyes.
Grief.
Claire.
He shook his head. No need to think about that right now. No need to think about her right now. He was here to relax and clear his head with a hot cup of soothing tea.
Even though the only reason he hadn't ordered anything to eat was because he felt as though he wouldn't be able to stomach it.
Even though he hadn't eaten in three days.
It didn't matter. He could eat when he felt like it. He just wasn't hungry. The pain in his stomach was more from his overwhelming emotions than from hunger.
Pain that he really wished would go away.
He took another sip. The hot tea poured down his throat and soothed him to the core.
Thank goodness his hands seemed to have finally stopped shaking.
One last mouthful and his cup was empty. He set it down, took a deep breath and sighed into his hands. Keep calm, he told himself. Just keep calm, Layton. Keep taking deep breaths and don't let your heart start pounding again.
Don't think about everything that happened. Don't think about it. Most importantly, don't think about her.
A gentleman doesn't make a scene in public, after all.
He was going to be alright.
He was going to be fine.
He was going to be fine.
He could still hear the radio somewhere behind the conversations of other customers in the café. A new song had come on. A piano tune...
...that sounded familiar.
No. It couldn't be, could it?
Goodbye, Norma Jean...
Oh no.
...though I never knew you at all...
Not here. Not this song.
Not now.
...you had the grace to hold yourself
while those around you crawled...
Deep breaths, Hershel. Cool your mind. Swallow the lump in your throat.
Don't cry.
YOU ARE READING
Layton Drownout 2020
FanfictionA collection of all the fics that I've written for the Professor Layton fandom drownout. Let's have some not-gross stuff to read, shall we? All pieces will be labelled and provided with their own summary for convenience's sake. Contains spoilers for...
