Paraphernalia
Mulder lies down on his couch, well, their couch, if he could even call it that. She's been gone for two days now and he already feels as if someone had ripped his heart right out of his throat. She had left him.
He knew that she always threatened to, but he never thought that she could actually leave him. Mulder starts boiling with anger, but it only lasts for a few seconds before it starts to sink in that he was the reason she left. He made her lonely even with his company. He was what finally pushed her off the edge.
Mulder had been so obsessed with his "work", that he didn't see the stunning, beautiful and amazing woman he had. He feels like punching himself in the stomach at the thought.
He looks around his house, and see's little things that she had left behind. The miscellaneous paraphernalia. Only miniscule things, but still, they remind him of her.
A pen on the coffee table, the calendar she had bought, hanging on the wall, a mini figurine of a giraffe on the bookshelf and a photo frame she had given him for his birthday, which featured them both smiling and happy.
The photo wasn't taken that long ago, about a year. When had things turned so sour and why hadn't he noticed sooner? Maybe he could've fixed things before it was too late...
He looked to the left, down the hallway that leads to his bedroom. He sighed as he got up, and walked inside, throwing himself onto the king-sized bed and breathed in deeply. Sometimes, he wished he couldn't smell her everywhere.
But every time, as soon as he'd thought it, he'd dismiss it immediately, as her scent was wonderful, and made him feel at peace. She often sprayed a flowery perfume he can't remember the name of.
The smell on the duvet though, was her clean, natural scent that was just so reminiscent of her being. It reminded Mulder of times when they'd stay up in this bed all night, talking about life and the universe, or when they made love until they screamed each other's names in ecstasy.
How could she leave him?
He needs her absolutely, in every way. She is quite literally the air that he breathes in, and the carbon dioxide he breathes out, and now that she's gone, he has no fucking idea how to breathe. Its almost like he's choking. Choking on the harsh reality of it all.
Mulder had seen things more horrendous over the past twenty years than most people see in their entire lives, yet this is what has affected him the most. She is his Scully. His Dana.
Was his Dana.
Tears slip from his eyes, and onto the covers, leaving tiny damp spots everywhere.
so yeah, I know that this was really short, but I just wanted to try a different category, rather than msr. Let me know what you think and if you think I should continue this or not :)