And there she was, pressed against the wooden doorframe, her filthy jeans and polo shirt sticking to her body and her hair had fallen from its braid. The look on her face was one he's seen so many times. There was fire rising in her cheeks, was she angry? embarrassed? He longed to know, but he could never allow himself to ask.
"What do ya need, girl?." He could hear the snarl in his voice, and regretted it's sharpness, knowing she would never understand.
"I-I couldn't sleep," She stammered, moving towards him and the fire. "I kept havin' nightmares about.." She stopped. She didn't have to say anything more. He wasn't a clueless man, he knew all about night terrors and the paralyzing images that would float in ones head. She sat down, the fire crackling and sparking before them. "Does it get easier?." She blurts in a rather small voice and the man turns to face her.
"What?."
"Loss," She says, tossing a chip of wood into the fire before directing her gaze to him. "Does losing someone ever get easier?."
The man laughs softly and shakes his head a little. "What would ya like me to say?."
She then takes a deep breath, balls her fists, shuts her eyes as tight as she possibly could and says, "Lie to me."
The man sighs deeply and closes his own eyes. He wished he was better with words because maybe then he could comfort the girl. But he was honest, and that was something. "If your talking out missin' them," He starts, finally opening his eyes to meet her burning gaze. "Then no, yer never gon' stop missin' em'. But overtime, ya get better at handlin' the grief."
He then met her gaze and instantly regretted it. Most blue eyes are so captivating you swear that you could just dive into them with the peak of awe nipping at your facial features. But when you peered into her burning irises you feel an electrical chill run down your spine, though your body making all of you feel a numbing warmth you cannot describe. Every tendril of various shades of incandescent striking blue staying lined up next to one and other making her eyes themselves seem like a masterpiece.
Yes, she is indeed a work of art. A walking, breathing masterpiece totally unaware of her earth-shattering beauty.
Her gems then gloss over, causing her to blink away the silver tears threatening to flow. "Have you," She pauses, rethinking her question. Wording it in a way the man would not shy away or shut her down. "Have you reached that point yet? Y'know, with Merle?."
His entire body stills, mostly from the mention of his fallen brother but also because he was unsure of the answer himself. "I..I don't know." He says truthfully, feeling the weight of a hundred losses on his shoulders. She then closes the space between them so that their thighs and shoulders touched.
"One day," She says softly, looking up at the man. "We'll be good, both of us." She then nuzzles her head into his shoulder and stares into the dancing flames.
"Yeah," Her voice above a whisper. "Both of us."
