look who’s baaack.
so, I would like to swap this for the one shot I promised a few weeks back because I re read it and it’s crap. If I get desperate enough I might post it, but trust me, you don’t want to read it.THIS is a little unexpected and dull and frankly will never be my favorite thing, I recently got a few super nice messages and decided I should post it.
other news. I know you all want a lwo update and the thing is, chapter thirteen needs finishing and it’s stuck in the computer without keyboard and I’m unable to get to it atm - good news is, I have outlined like six more chapters and wrote two (fourteen and fifteen).
“Amelia.” The voice called behind her. It was a prayer, a sleepwalker’s lament, a whisper. It stopped her dead in her tracks, unable to go on. It was the kind of sound that would twist her stomach up in knots. “Amelia, please.”
She turned around, coming face to face with the bluest eyes. Upon noticing the distraught look on his face she felt like crying. She felt like running up and wrapping him in a hug, never letting go. Just like in the trailer, the instinct had been to kneel in front of him and hold him, take away the pain, absorb it like a sponge. Only, she was soaked up entirely all on her own already, unable to offer that kind of help. The stench of alcohol was in her head, making it spin dangerously and the burning disappointment was making that a deadly mix.
His face wasn’t much different from the one begging her not to leave, begging for another chance, willing that not to be the straw that broke the camels back. Between the two of them, the relationship resembled a lot a game of Jenga, taking away a block at the time, hoping against hope the tower wouldn’t crumble to the ground.
“Please, can we talk?” his voice was strained, hoarse, spent. His eyes looked watery and red, his cheeks sunken and his shoulders slack. “Just a minute.”
It was late, later than usual and not many people were around. Patients were asleep and nurses and doctors were nowhere to be seen. Amelia sighed. Owen needed someone to lean on, someone to hold him up, someone that wasn’t her. She’d relapsed not much longer than a couple months before and, despite him not being there for her either, she was still in need herself of someone to lean on. She had leaned on him and he’d taken it, because his stupid male ego told him that’s what prince charming does, help the damsel in distress. Now, though, it wasn’t clear who was supposed to play prince charming.