Past Tense

I stood by you in your greatest and darkest moments, supported you like no other. I was your biggest fan. I was your best friend, the first person you ran too when something good happened. The first person you ran too when something bad happened. You told me you loved me. I told you, I love you too. Yet you shut us down, before we can truly start because of distance.When you know i’m pursuing my dreams. As if a decade plus worth of friendship and loyalty mean nothing to you. As if I no longer mean nothing to you. 

- K. G. Waltz

A little drabble inspired by @infinite-atmosphere‘s cute wittle mcHanzo comic. I hope this is adequate..

His voice is roughened with age and cigar smoke. His grin has lost its exuberant and carefree shine, more crooked and absent-minded, as if an after thought, an old habit that never quite fades. More metal than skin shows and the crinkles around his eyes are heavy with unspoken burdens. 

Hanzo supposes he is the one being childish this time, wanting to reach out and tug at that fluttering serape, to demand if McCree still remembers him. Alas, it is not to be.

He finds himself distracted sometimes, watching the cowman strides around confidently in his ridiculous getup, greeting anyone and everyone, even the enemies, with that crooked smile of his. It gives Hanzo this twinge in his heart, a pulling that is both melancholic and stings a little.

Neither of them owes the other anything, it is foolish of him for having such thoughts. His chances have long passed, it is unreasonable to want them, to want McCree back again.

But then, Hanzo can’t help the tiny jolts whenever McCree tips his hat at him, at every wayward smile, a friendly bump on the shoulder. They are all too little, and yet too much. He finds himself thinking too hard at night, when the world is quite and his only companion is his perfect memory. It is both a blessing and a curse, because then the mind would let him see what reality does not.

They both have changed, but that fleeting feeling of longing, gentle like a fallen petal yet constricts his guarded heart too tightly, refuses to go away.

“Somethin’ on yer mind?”

His reverie is shattered, not violent like broken glass, but soft as dry leaves crunching under one’s steps in the autumn sun, at the feeling of metal finger brushing his cheek. Hanzo shrugs it off, face betrays no emotion even when his pulse quickens.

“The moon is beautiful tonight.”

There is a pressure on his chest, a coiling at the very pit of his stomach when broad shoulder meets his, arms aligning with each other. The back of McCree’s metal hand brushes his own and, somewhere, a knot eases when the gentle wind carries the familiar scent of gunpowder and cigar, enveloping him in a warmth that isn’t his own. Brown eyes fall upon his, and the smile, crooked with just a hint of something else, melts away the grasp around his guarded heart.

“Aye, it is.”

Leaving @rosecitycc is bittersweet. I had such a great time with all of the fans and friends, but am also looking forward to going home to my furbabies and taking much needed time to relax and catch up on home work stuffs. Also, this sweet beanie is from @pinkcitygram ♡

I’ll be posting all belated PCCC pics soon ♡

#jetsetter #homewardbound #bittersweet #love (at Portland International Airport)

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