Another Fanfiction! I have no idea why I write sad, dramatic stories because, most of the time, I am happy as a fluffy bunny eating lettuce in the sun. TEEHEE! *Jumping randomly up and down* Anyways, on with the story. *clearing throat*
Disclaimer: I don't own His Dark Materials and if I did, I wouldn't be here, right?
Genre: Tragedy, angst, hurt/comfort, romance, friendship, fantasy, etc. I know, so much right? So I'll just stick to Hurt/comfort and Romance, ok?
Summary: Lyra and Will are still not over each other. Time doesn't heal, it just makes things worse. I'm still not sure if they should, somehow, return to each other or, that they will find a spouse that subtly reminds them of their lover. So, stay tuned because if the first chapter didn't make you cry, you should go see a doctor to check if you're alive or actually a living corpse with no feeling whatsoever.
A bead of sweat rolled off my eyebrow and hit the pavement. Connor doesn't know I'm here. He never knew. Not even after all these years. Seven, to be precise. My bottom lip trembles, Pan with it, his sleek body running up my sleeve so that he nestles in the crook of my neck, in between my throat and shoulder bone. I can now see the garden's gates.
I pass all the fountains and flowers whilst making sure no one is there. Pan runs off through the trees to make sure no one will see or hear. It will only be me and him. It's easier like this, not to tell anyone. I reach the white bench and, just as I sit down, I murmur, "Will." I cry out. The agonizing pain is there. Right beneath my soul, my heart, it burns. A hot, wet tear strikes the cobbled stonework. My chest heaves. My heart aches. It physically hurts to be away from him. Tear after tear slide and I hold the bench with all my strength to not put my head in my hands.
When you love someone, when you love someone with all your heart, and they are suddenly gone in a wisp, it kills you from the inside. It's living torture. You wish to die, but you know, deep down, that you will still be tortured unless that same person, that you love so much, will finally come to be with you. As long as you live, and even when you die, you will always love that someone and, if they never unite with you again, you will always be hurt. And, eventhough you will do everything you could to hide it, to forget it, you will always be rotten from the inside. It will start small, yes you feel sad, but then it will grow larger and larger, then, it will shrink your soul and hurt it as much as it can.
My hideous cry pierces the air, and the tears run off, hot and wet, forming a puddle on the ground. Pan sits on my shoulder and weeps. My eyes are swollen and my cheeks red. We sit there, Will and I, and weep like this. Every single year. Time doesn't heal. It never will.
The pinch in my soul is like, physically, a knife in the gut. "Will!" I hear myself cry. Please Will, please come back! Stop this torture! Will! I'm dead without you! Come to me! Oh Will! Please! I crave your touch with every atom of my body!
The first time the pain occurred I was surprised I wasn't bleeding, and I was twelve at the time. This boy, I don't remember his name, asked me out and I, automatically, said I already had a boyfriend, Will. He didn't believe me but I didn't care, I told him that I was not going to cheat on him and he, who I knew was deep down hurt from the rejection, laughed at me and told me to go get a life. I just shrugged and watched him run off. Right after he ran off, it started the, killing, torturing, agonizing heart ache.
The hours run off. It's way past midnight.
Quick steps are heard. "Is someone there?" A soft, male's voice quietly echoed inside the Botanic Garden of Oxford.
Pan, gasping, whispers, "Come on Lyra. You know you don't want someone to know. I want Kirjava too. I do. You don't want this, a person finding out. Do you? You don't want Addison to find out. Because if she will, she will be heartbroken because her mother never really loved her father, she loved someone else." My pitiful cries start to turn into soft, choked whines and, as Pan gently tries to pull into safety, out of harms way, we disappear into the surrounding trees' shadows. After one last strangled cry, we're gone as if from the face of the Earth, Pan, coat and all. Will, my heart, my soul, is craved. I will see you again my love. Next year.
Soooooooooooooo?!!???!? Did you like it? R&R! Pwease?! Give the pwr doggy a bone! Because no story is a real story unless it has feedback. You know, I am so desperate I will even be happy to get a flame (ok maybe not, but I am desperate!!!!)!