i

Weak for lack of oxygen
Strangled by the thought
Promise you'll remember when I'm gone

She generally thinks that the word "shock" is overused nowadays, that it doesn't really mean anything anymore. In a world where everything is shocking, she thinks that nothing really can be.

Except maybe this.

Because she hadn't, in a million years, been expecting this.

And she doesn't know what to do, what he'd want or what she needs, so she just sits.

She waits.

She's still in the city that once held so much for both of them and encapsulated all of their respective dreams, but now all hope for him is gone, and with that, her aspirations don't seem so important. She'd always been ok, been happy even, not seeing him, not talking to him, bearing a grudge that was years too old, because she still knew that he was alright on some exotic, far-flung set, wearing black and charming everything with a heartbeat. Now, she can't comprehend how the Broadway lights can just keep on shining, as though he never meant anything there, as though he was just another passer by on that strip, not somebody who actually stopped.

And though this version of New York exists without him in it, maybe she doesn't.

She halts.

ii

Sleep is mostly optional

Trace lines around my heart
Steal the only breath from my lungs

She doesn't do anything, just keeps looking at the door as though he's about to burst through it. It's a ridiculous notion; she hasn't seen him in years and had no plans to, but now that there's not even an infinitely small possibility of him sweeping in and repairing all of their damage with one fluid movement, all she can do is act as though that's the next logical step.

And whilst she's still alive, she's not living. Sure, she's breathing, and (sometimes) eating, and, if she's lucky, catching a few moments of sleep, but she doesn't have good days anymore and she doesn't have bad ones either. She just has twenty four hours followed by twenty four more that all bleed into the weeks and months that are passing her by.

iii

But if I had your faith
I'd be fearless

But until that day
I'm envious

She doesn't laugh and she doesn't cry, not when 'I dreamed a dream' plays on her iPod, and not when she watches West Side Story and Tony gets shot. She's just sitting still in an ever changing world, and really, the only significant difference between her and him is that she's just about tangible, whilst he only exists as an idea.

And her thoughts are revolving around the same defining moments, rethinking the entirety of her High School career, but helpless to change a thing. She's looking at the past through glass, like she's trying to reside there, but can't quite. She's finding that she can't quite reside in the present either though. Everything is just out of her reach; her old life, her new one, her friends, her colleagues, music, drama, him.

And all of her memories are blurs, and the people are just shapes and faded colours, except him. He exists in startling clarity, every aspect of what he says and how he reacts and what he wears is clear and crisp, as though she could just extend her arm and touch something that isn't just the smoke and mirrors of her mind at work. It's a cruel mockery really, because he's the only one who will never exist with that clarity again. She might laugh at it all if she wasn't so out of touch with what it is to feel.

iv

Miles and miles that distance us
Like meters on a map
Trace lines that only translate to a day

She thinks of her two 'great' loves of the time, and she finds herself working on the main difference between them:

Finn's the boy she could always forgive because she thought she loved him.

Jesse's the boy she can never forgive because she knows she loves him.

And now she'll never have the chance, and they'll never have the chance, and it would all be quite ironic if it wasn't so heartbreaking.

v

But if you're awake
Tell me it's safe

None of it has really sunk in yet, that he's gone and he isn't coming back. She knows that when it hits her, the pain will be worse, but she finds herself wanting that, craving anything instead of this...numbness. She wants crying instead of this vain hope that she's wrong, that everyone is, that he's just going to pop up somewhere and shout "Gotcha!" with that trademark smirk and those sparkling eyes.

She wants anger; she wants to hate the world for taking him, to hate people for just moving on, to hate him for leaving her in the first place, before he'd even had a chance to come back.

But most of all, she just wants him.

Because she's finding that without him, nothing's really anything anymore.

vi

If you ask me to stay
Then I'll stay

By the time she visits him, the earth is green, not brown. The dirt is no longer fresh from its digging, but instead has been nourished into new life by him.

She really hates this whole circle of life crap, that nature can selfishly benefit from his tragedy.

It's only when she bends down and touches the engraved stone that it all finally hits her. His tragedy isn't just his, it's hers as well. She doesn't know how long she kneels on the ground before him, body wracked with unshed tears and new misery, but she can't stop soaking the green grass below her.

And she can't stand that it's sunny, that the skies are blue and clear. It should be raining, and there should be grey depression reflecting and surrounding his demise. It isn't fair that it can be bright when every flame has been extinguished in her eyes. He deserves some sort of pathetic fallacy, hell, she deserves it too. Rain should meld with the salty tears that run down her face as she and heaven both weep, her for what she has lost, it for what it should not yet have gained.

There should be some poetic justice in that. She wants that, if only to provide him with some sort of justice at all. If he was there she's sure he would have fought the sky for his validation.

But he's dead, and she's not.

vii

Don't leave me here when I'm bleeding
When I'm fading but I'm true
It's tempting to stop everything
When I'm pouring out to you

She thinks that maybe she wants to be. Instead of this crippling lifetime of emptiness, she'd rather an eternity of nothingness with him.

But then the breeze brushes past her, and if she closes her eyes and concentrates, it almost feels like it's his hand on her shoulder, supporting her when she won't let anyone else, lifting her up. Maybe, if she had a little more faith, she'd think of it as a sign.

As it is, she takes it as a reassurance that she can hold on for one more day.

And maybe, if she's lucky, he'll help her the day after that, because undoubtedly she'll need it.

Now that he's gone, she'll need him.

viii

So take everything, take it all from me
Because all I want is you

A/N: Hey guys...slightly short angsty one shot, I know. I wrote it ages ago but just found it on my computer and I know I haven't posted in a while so I thought I'd put this up for you. I'm not completely happy with it (hence it wasn't posted right away), especially the ending (I think it's kind of glib and rushed), but it's just sitting on my computer being useless...

This was my first attempt at trying to incorporate a song as well, so if it doesn't quite fit please don't stone me!

And, as always, please REVIEW!