Remembering Sunday
A/N - Hey Guys, so I got inspiration for this one shot while listening to Remembering Sunday by All Time Low, hope you like it!
Sunday. That word sent shivers down his spine. Not just his spine, through his entire body. Sunday was the day that everything changed. Sunday was no longer just a day. Sunday was a memory. A memory he wished he could forget. A memory that no matter how hard he tried, he could not let go of. Sunday was no longer the day of rest, but a day of over thinking and contemplating. Sunday was everything and nothing to him at the same time. Sunday was the day everything changed. Sunday was the day the challenge was finally over. Sunday was the day he gave up on her and ultimately life.
It was almost a year ago now, and he still couldn't get that day out of his mind, nor could he get her out of his mind. Everything reminded him of her. The wind rustling through the leaves reminded him of the way the wind rustled through her hair. A spec of mud on his white shoes reminded him of her eyes, the contrast of the white against the chocolate brown. A little girl pulling on her mothers hand, trying to direct her into a toy shop, the way she'd pull on his hand with a devilish grin, into a cloud watching club meeting. The butterflies fluttering around, just like the butterflies he got in his gut when he was with her. A couple eating breakfast in a cafe, the way she did with him most mornings, full fry up, but two eggs was never enough, for her.
He woke up again from dreaming about her. Looking at the clock, and realising it was two in the morning, he figured there was no point in trying to get back to sleep, he may as well get up. He made his was downstairs, flicking the coffee maker on. She liked coffee. He shook his head, ridding these thoughts temporarily. This was the first time he'd been sober in days. Everywhere he looked reminded him of her and if being in a almost parallactic state put a stop to these thoughts for a while, put a temporary stop to all the hurt she caused, then obviously that was what he had to do. Being sober hurt too much. Being sober let the emotions flood into his heart. Being sober meant feeling everything. Being sober also meant thinking and remember and reminiscing about all the things they could have and should have been, but she was like a emotionless psychopath, not ever fully letting someone have her whole heart, only giving them a snippet of it before tearing it from their grasp, so quickly, that you'd miss it in a blink of an eye.
He had the ring out of the table, the black velvet box sitting next to it. Mug of coffee in one hand, while mindlessly twirling the ring between his thumb and forefinger of the other hand, watching the light from the kitchen lamp reflect off of it. He just wished he had the strength and stamina to break through her mile high guard on her heart. He knows that by doing this he is reinforcing to her that he didn't care. But that's the problem, he cared too much, too much so that he let her go. Let her be free. Let her live the way she wanted. She didn't believe in love though, did she? She thought that to love someone it took more than she was willing to give. But it didn't, it wasn't all about what could give to them, but what you was willing to take and cherish, that was her downfall, because she didn't. She didn't take anything from him, she didn't believe all his whispered words of 'I love you'. Nor did she take all the small gestures, the hand he rested on her lower back, guiding her through the heaving crowd. No she took that as an advance on his part, trying to get her to sleep with him. That was never his intention.
She had mentioned to him one night that she didn't believe in love. That was when he made it his job, destiny to change her mind. That was when he decided that she was going to fall in love with him, even if it was the last he did, she would be his. He had been so determined to call her bluff but he had failed. Apparently there was no bluff to call. She was not bluffing, she just did not love him. She had no opinion of him, friends with benefits, possibly. Lover, definitely. Boyfriend, no! Husband, never! All he was to her was a toy in her vicious games. He was the one to come out burned. Always him hurt, never her. He did not understand how every time he asked her if she felt the butterflies he felt in his gut, how she could possibly say no? They were so prominent and busy, he swore sometimes that they were having a party inside his gut whenever she was near. How could she not feel the same? He soon came to the conclusion that she was just cold-hearted.
When the fateful day had occured he had been so scared. He scoured the streets looking for her, asking neighbors if they'd seen her. Only to be told that she had moved. To a different neighborhood in a different state. No goodbye. No note. Not even a lousy, fucking text. She just got up and left, the fucking state, to get away from him. As he walked home to his house, the heavens opened, soaking his clothes. It started to make sense, the challenge wasn't over, it had just begun. To find wherever she may had gone. To go to every state to find her. To start his endeavor to make her his.
I'm not coming back she said. I've done something so terrible... Unforgivable. I can't speak. Mustn't speak. I'm in danger. I'm petrified. The rain is refreshing, washing you out of hair, out of my mind. I'm so many feet off the ground, in the clouds, way above you now, over you now. I never loved you and never will now. She said slamming the door in his face.
Now he's back home, sitting at the table drinking coffee and playing with the ring that was meant for her. Waiting for her to come through that door begging for forgiveness, but knowing in the back of his mind that she was not coming. Not now. Not ever.
A/N - Well, I have been having inspiration for this for quite a while, only thing is that I haven't proof read it but I did re-read it as I went along, I hope you like it. It kind of gets a bit crappy by the end but I hope you like the beginning.