It’s always the little things. The most ordinary of objects and circumstances and words that remind him of her.
It’s the shirt left flung over the railing in the console room that he’d left in place until an angry bride displaced it because if he didn’t move it he could pretend that she would come walking in to reclaim it at any moment.
It’s the blanket draped over the back of the sofa in the library that she had bought on Aziluim III back when he wore leather and grumbled about the sheer domesticity of her buying something for their shared space.
(He kept that blanket on the couch until it no longer smelled of her, no longer smelled like bright citrus and tea and time.)
It’s the tiny trinkets and traces of her existence that he finds in rooms he never knew she entered. The pair of trainers and the half-read book that have been misplaced for centuries now, waiting for a blonde that’s in another universe to come reclaim them.
It’s the sinking, hollow feeling he gets when he finds himself on a desolate beach, unable to escape the ghosts of words that were said and left unfinished on another beach universes and and planets and a hundred thousand sunsets away.
(He wonders if that day will ever stop haunting him. He’s not sure it ever will, if he ever even wants it to stop. If it stops hurting does that mean he’s stopped loving her?)
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“…are traveling on the same parallel path and at the same
velocities so that to someone observing from Earth, it appears that they’re all
radiating from the same central point and…and you’re not even listening to me!
They were sprawled on a blanket in the middle of a field in
the middle of nowhere an hour outside London to watch a meteor storm. The
Doctor had been excited for weeks and hadn’t stopped reminding her of what they
would be doing on the weekend of November 16th.
(“This meteor shower
occurs annually, Rose, but it peaks every couple of decades into a meteor
storm! Thousands of meteors can be seen per hour! Per hour, Rose!”)
She loved seeing his enthusiasm for his life with her; he
seemed so excitable by the smallest things, and she loved it. She loved him.
Just now, he was going on one of his long-winded
explanations on meteors or weather or long-dead scientists or something. Quite
honestly, she’d tuned him out when he started talking about star dust, and
instead was admiring his profile in the moonlight while enjoying the cadence of his
voice. The contours of his face were thrown into sharp relief by the silvery
light and she couldn’t help but stroke her fingers across cheekbones, his slightly-upturned
eyebrow, his dented left ear, the stubble of his jaw. He was the most beautiful
person she’d ever seen.
Rose rolled over and threw her leg over his hips to straddle
him before she leaned down to press her lips tenderly to his.
“I love you,” she murmured against his mouth when they
eventually broke for breath.
He smiled shyly up at her, his cheeks tinged pink, and she
couldn’t help but catch his bottom lip between her teeth. He let out a low groan
as she nibbled on his lip and threaded her fingers through his hair.
It didn’t take long for the moonlight to be glinting off of
their bare skin. Moans and whimpers echoed through the night, with nothing but
rolling hills and grass to hear them. Words of need and want and love were
gasped onto each other’s skin, and as stars burst behind their eyes, the sky
above them exploded with light.
THEY PULLED A DOOMSDAY ON US….the Doctor was going to tell her he loved her and she told him not to say it, she knew (also gave me ten/rose vibes “oh she knows”) SO HE YET AGAIN IS LOSING A LOVE AND DOESN’T GET TO SAY IT. And then she goes and says they have bad timing…reminded me of Last Christmas where she said “there was someone else..it wouldn’t of worked out…he was impossible” I’M NOT GOING TO BE OVER THIS, I’m still not over doomsday and this was same if not worse pain…nope nope nope nope…