“You see her when you close your eyes—
maybe one day, you’ll understand why everything you touch surely dies.”
“Let Her Go” — Passenger
His throat is unbearably tight as he looks down at her, the tears in his eyes blurring his vision, making the blood that stains her skin and clothing all he can see. He squeezes his eyes shut and the red is still there, taunting him; a cruel reminder that this is all his fault. He’s toxic, always has been, and always will be. He learned years ago what happened anytime he let someone get close. And yet, he is still weak enough- still selfish enough— to let people in, anyway.
“Fuck—” The word tears from his lips, his voice raw, and breaks off as a sob works its way up his throat. He feels sick. This is all his fucking fault.
His eyes open once more, and he forces himself to look down at her. The feeling in his chest is as if his heart is slowly tearing itself apart, as if through losing her, he lost part of himself.
“I’m so sorry,” he gasps. Tears are running down his cheeks now as his hands cup her face. Her skin has long since gone cold, her eyes empty and hollow. “Fuck— I’m so, so sorry…” His jaw clenches as he tries not to break down, tries not to give into the rage and utter helplessness he feels right now.
He knows he deserves this. He knows he deserves a lot worse. He deserves to be torn up beyond repair, to be so emotionally broken that he can never get close to another person again. Because she didn’t deserve this. She deserved so much better, and the moment he walked into her life, the moment he touched her, the moment he started loving her— she was already gone. He’d been so fucking stupid.
He’s crying harder, the sounds escaping his throat barely sounding human— and really, without her, he’s not anymore. She kept his sanity, eased his worries, made him happy— just by being.
“I’m sorry,” he forces out again, his voice almost a whimper. His arms wrap around her and pull her close, clinging to her desperately, and he refuses to remotely think about letting go. He buries his face in her chest, another heart-wrenching sob tearing up his throat. Her smell wraps around him, but it’s tainted with the smell of rust, and he knows there’s no way for him to pretend even for a moment that she’s still here. And, despite how long he holds her, despite how much he prays and curses and apologizes and hates himself for being so fucking selfish—