A/N: This goes out to pillar-of-salt, lijahmone, chris2345th, her-majesty-wears-jeans, and everyone else who supported me through Nadine's final episode, and the tidal wave of feels that came afterwards. Y'all kept me sane the last few days - thank you for listening to my excessive rambling. I appreciate you all more than you know.
This little bunny was born when Pillar-of-salt said she needed some goodbye sex, and I'm still an emotional potato, so here's my take on how these two said goodbye to each other. It was fueled by several glasses of wine and some old faithful Florence and the Machine (hence the title). Not sure how it grew to be this long, but I digress. Let me know what you think!
...
Nadine has been packing for hours when a sudden knock at the door shakes her from her Joni Mitchell-fueled moving party. She isn't expecting visitors (she's already said goodbye to those she cares to) and she's making a valiant effort to clean out her fridge before she leaves in two days, so it's definitely not takeout. Most of her furniture is gone already except for her bed and a few miscellaneous pieces, which she plans on getting rid of anyway, so it's definitely not movers. She stares curiously at the door, knitting her eyebrows in confusion.
Another strong knock at the door suggests she should probably answer it, despite her sloppy appearance and chaotic apartment, and Joni Mitchell gets put on mute. Nadine brushes a wayward curl from her eyes that has fallen from the haphazard messy bun at the nape of her neck and tiptoes over multiple coffee table books, ornate picture frames, the small decorations from her bookshelves, and several throw pillows before finally reaching her front door.
She twists the latch and swings open the door, and upon seeing who stands on the other side, feels her heart flutters in her chest.
It's Mike B, and he looks … well, she can't place the look on his face, but it's one she has never seen him wear before. His hands are stuffed awkwardly in his jacket pockets, and she notices a bottle of wine tucked under his arm. Going away present, she thinks wryly, before realizing something else.
He looks forlorn. Hell, for all practical purposes, he looks crushed.
"You could have told me." His voice is equal parts cold and disappointed, sad and angry - fractions of emotions that neither of them had dealt with when things had fallen apart the first time. She should have known this would happen, and she's chastising herself for not being more prepared for his unannounced arrival.
For once, Nadine is at a loss of words. "Mike," she begins, smoothing her loose sweater down over the black dance pants, some of the last actual articles of clothing she had in DC. As if her attire meant anything to him at this point.
"Why didn't you tell me," he repeats, remaining in the hallway where she can hear the initial tap of raindrops begin to pelt at the windows. Might as well skip the pleasantries and greetings.
"Who told you?" She's not upset, just genuinely curious. She rests on the door frame, taking in his damp jacket and hair - clearly he'd gotten stuck in the initial rain that was now starting to come down in sheets against the windows.
"It's Washington, Nadine. Come on." His sentiment echoes one she's heard many times before, one of the very reasons she's leaving. She's tired of Washington. He concedes first, though, and swallows hard before speaking again. "Jay Whitman is taking your place. It's already been announced. Found out this morning on an email memo." He runs a hand through his hair, and produces a weary half-smile in her direction, but she's not sure it's directed at her. "Confirmed through Elizabeth," he adds.
"They move fast," she murmurs softly, feeling elated for Jay. He deserves it, for sure, but Mike certainly didn't deserve to find out about her departure that way. At least that's not what she wanted. She does, however, file a mental reminder to send Jay a congratulatory message once she arrives in San Francisco.
"You could have told me, Nadine."
She has to tip her head back to look him directly in the eye. "Mike, you made it abundantly clear it was over between us months ago, and I haven't seen or heard from you since. I mean no offense, but you certainly were not the first person on my call list." She folds her arms over her chest, but the firm line of her mouth softens when she sees him swallow hard again. She didn't expect him to take this so … hard.
"Nadine, come on. Even if I wasn't, you could have at least said something, damnit. You know I wouldn't have just ignored it. You know that's not me."
Somewhere deep within her, she knows he's right. He'd fallen hard for her, and she'd recognized just how strongly he wanted things to work out between them. She did too, and her heart stings when she remembers the night they officially ended things back in the spring, when she'd turned sharply on her heel away from him on that dark street in Dupont, their relationship - the experiment - whatever it was, essentially over.
Maybe it'll be good to clear the air and say goodbye, she thinks, shifting her weight against the door. "Do you want to come in?" She offers, gesturing to the mess behind her, then the wine bottle under his arm. "For a drink? I see you came prepared."
"Sure," He lamely holds up the bottle of wine. "Figured you could use one before you leave."
She lets him through before her and firmly bolts the door behind her, inhaling his familiar scent deeply as he brushes by her. He's been to her place enough times over the last few months to know what is missing, and what used to be where. It becomes real when he sees most of the furniture gone, multiple boxes stacked against the door, rendering her time in Washington over. Mike averts his eyes and stares at the floor, and if he concentrates hard enough, he can practically see all her furniture back in its place, just as it had been the last time he'd visited.
"My wine glasses are packed already," she says, disappearing into her dark kitchen for a moment. His eyes trail after her, and he is reminded of the time he nearly ripped her skirt off with his bare hands before hoisting her onto the counter in that kitchen and -
His memory is cut off when a clear solo cup is tossed in his direction. "This is all I have," she says, settling down on the floor and pushing boxes out of the way. He twists the top off the bottle (he figured she didn't have an opener readily accessible) and pours a rather liberal amount of wine in their cups.
"When do you leave?" He tries, he really does, but this is somehow harder than he'd imagined when he stood in the liquor store earlier that evening, when he'd been feeling bold, fresh off his phone call with Elizabeth. Back when he still thought, maybe for just a few moments, that it was all just a dream and she wasn't really leaving.
"In two days."
She was going to leave without saying goodbye, he realizes, effectively silencing him.
They sit on the hardwood, his left knee touching her right one, their hands centimeters away from each other. It's the first contact they've had in months, actually. Mike's missed her, and simply being this close to her after so long is comforting. As they're sipping the red wine in silence, it's him who speaks again.
"I don't know how you can do this," he begins, and his words spill out much faster than he'd planned. "You're just going to up and leave? Move across the country after what? A phone call?" He immediately regrets his words, which were certainly not the correct ones at this point. Nadine's shoulders stiffen in anger.
She bristles. "Are you actually angry at me for doing this?" Her tone is biting. "You have no right to even go there," she snaps back, anger flashing in her eyes. He's not sure he's ever seen her angry, especially at him, and for a few seconds, he's actually convinced she's going to take his head off. "How dare you even say that out loud?"
She's definitely going to take his head off. "I haven't seen you in weeks - months, and you show up at my door and this is what you come up with?" She stands up, and gestures to the door.
She's right. He has no right. "You're right, you're right. I was out of line." Mike holds up his free hand. "I'm sorry, Nadine. "You're right. It's not my place to decide. Or give my opinions. I'll keep my mouth shut."
She considers him for a moment, recognizing his apology as genuine, and gracefully settles back onto the floor. Her lips curl into a small smile. "We both know that's impossible for you."
Mike pours a bit more wine in both of their cups, and they sip thoughtfully for a few moments, lost in their own thoughts that they both are coming to realize, are very similar. "Are you happy?"
She leans against the wall, head tilted back, eyes slightly closed. "I am," she says when her eyes finally open. "I'm making the right choice, Mike. You know how long I've waited for this." She's speaking of the relationship with her son, and the chance of rekindling that with him is one he knows she'll never turn down. It isn't something he can blame her for.
Mike feels a lump rising in his throat, but he quickly swallows it and reaches for her hand. "I know, Nadine." He runs his fingers over the delicate bones in her hand, their fingers easily linking together. "I'm … i'm happy for you, Grandma." He smirks good naturedly, and she laughs out loud, playfully swatting him against the arm. "Congratulations by the way."
"Thank you." She beams. She leans closer to him, a radiant smile stretching across her face, and it's probably the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
At that moment, he realizes he has to let her go. Her happiness is more important than any failed relationship, and if moving across the country is what makes her happy, then so be it. "Thank you," she says genuinely, warmly, her eyes locking with his blue ones, and he can feel her breathing hitch as she slides closer to him.
This is killing him, and he knows this one is going to hurt for a long time.
Fuck it, he thinks.
"Mike," she begins, her voice low, and he knows what's about to come. "I didn't want it to end that way." She tucks her legs neatly beneath her and swirls the wine in her glass.
Fuck, not know, Nadine, not now, he thinks, but he tightens his arm around her back, and they both know this isn't just going to be one farewell drink.
"How did you want it to end, Nadine? How was it supposed to end?"
Her mouth opens, then she pauses, and tries again. "I .. I … at first, I didn't know, Mike. But I screwed up, and then it was too late." She sets her glass down and presses her fingers to her lips.
"Hey," he starts, turning her slightly to face him, to look him in the eyes. "You didn't screw up," he brushes her hands from her face before cupping her chin with his hand, squeezing gently. "Never say that again." He doesn't want to relive their darkest moments in what might be one of their last together.
"Look at this," she continues. "I'm leaving, and here you are, and here we are, and - "
"Nadine, just stop talking." Mike finally can't take it anymore, and pulls her to him, his lips crushing over hers. He kisses her lips with bruising force, her tongue slides into his mouth, and it feels so familiar, he could swear no time has passed since he last kissed her. Mike lowers her down, one arm wedged between her shoulders and wooden floor. Nadine's kissing him back fervently like always, and he begins to explore her neck with his mouth, her scent overwhelming his senses. Her small hands pull at his shirt, nearly ripping the fabric as it moves over his head and lands on a pile of boxes, abandoned for the time being.
He hasn't been with anyone else since her several months ago, and when she grinds her hips up against his, he's pretty sure he's going to come right then and there. Come on, Mike, do better, he chastises himself as he tugs the loose sweater and soft lace bra she's wearing underneath up and over her head. He kisses each of her breasts, first the left, then the right, squeezing them in his hands and thumbing her nipples before taking one in his mouth, paying equal attention to both.
She moans, and he takes one of her hands and pins it to the floor beside her as he bites down gently on her nipple. Mike loves that sound she makes, and he continues his attention on her breasts until her eyes are closed in bliss, her nipples hard peaks, and a flush covering her pale skin.
"Damnit, Mike," she knows he's not going to make this easy for her, and if he wants, he'll do this all night simply because he knows exactly what will make her lose control.
Mike pushes his knee between her legs, angled perfectly against her. She circles her hips against his jeans, trying to relieve some of the pressure that has built inside of her. Watching her grind herself on his knee is making him uncomfortably hard, but he can wait because watching her fall apart because of him is much more fun. His hands roam over her breasts, and over her waist until they come to rest just below her hips.
"Somebody's anxious," he teases, kissing her ear as his fingers dip into the waistband of the black pants she's wearing. He pushes them down just enough to make her lift her hips up towards him, and he pulls them further down over and down her legs. She peels them off the rest of the way, tossing them in the general direction of his shirt. Now that she's free of her pants, he pushes her legs apart, running his fingers gently over her inner thighs, but not giving into her just yet. Nadine practically whimpers, her hips starting to move in anticipation, but Mike shakes his head, smirking at her, his hand coming to rest on her stomach.
"Mike, please" She tries again, straining her hips up once again in his direction.
"Patience, beautiful," he murmurs as she takes a shaky breath when his hand inches further down her abdomen. He's loving this, and he's determined to make this good for her.
His hand slides between her legs, and when he runs his finger over her, he finds her dripping wet and warm, ready for him. He fights the urge to just devour her right there or pound into her, and instead gently drags his index finger over her center, pausing when he reaches her slick clit. Her breath catches in her throat, and this time he rubs his thumb over her several times, grinning when a low moan comes from her direction.
"I missed you," he brushes his finger back and forth over her clit and kisses her breast as her legs tremble in response. "I love seeing you like this," he continues, his thumb still moving over her as he adds his other hand, this time pressing two of his fingers inside of her. She's so wet, he thinks, more than turned on by the sight in front of him.
"Like how," she replies with a gasp, and when he begins to pump his hand inside her, she starts to lose track of what's around her.
"Like this," he gestures to her legs spread around him, her body completely at his beck and call, responding only to his ministrations. "Feel good," he asks, continuing the pattern of his fingers inside her and his thumb outside of her, knowing she's close.
"God, yes," her legs fall open wider around him and he knows she's about to come when her body goes stiff, so he pumps his hand inside of her harder and thumbs her clit faster until finally she comes with a loud cry. He continues to stroke her with his thumb but kisses her through her orgasm, wrapping an arm under her shoulders, letting her moan into his mouth as her warmth spreads over his fingers.
Nadine is panting in his arms, head thrown back, hair completely astray. Mike's pretty pleased with his performance, despite the pressure building in his jeans. "Nadine," he whispers to her, fingers finding her breast once again. "Let's find a better place for this." The floor is doing a number on his knees, and he's not going to fuck her on a hard floor all night. She doesn't object when he pulls her to her feet, swinging her into his arms easily. "Kitchen," She purrs into his ear, and into the kitchen they go.
The stools are gone from the middle counter, but who needs stools? Mike deposits her carefully onto the cold granite, letting her legs dangle off the side. He steps between her legs, and lifts her left ankle, kissing the skin there before angling her knee over his shoulder, then reaching for her other ankle repeating the same motion.
Seeing her like this - legs draped over his shoulders, her hands on his forearms, practically shaking with anticipation for him - is enough to drive him half mad. He admires her for a few moments, hands running up and down her legs, over her hips, up to her breasts where he pinches her nipples, and then back down, pulling his hands away with a wicked grin.
"What are you waiting for?" She shifts her hips up teasingly, and the image is one he he'd never grow tired of.
"Just watching you," He winks at her before putting gentle hands on either of her thighs and lowering his mouth to her. God, he missed her. He'd missed her, but he'd especially missed doing this to her - and he's damn determined to make sure she knows it.
She moans instantly at the contact, still wet as his tongue caresses her, deftly exploring her, his hands warm on her hips. Clearly Mike hasn't forgotten her, and the familiarity of his mouth on her makes it even better as his lips purse around her clit, sucking hard and instead of moaning she cries out, her fingers clenching his shoulders, nails digging into the skin.
"God damnit," her voice is hoarse, her back arches, and when he glances up at her the sight nearly causes him to lose control of his own self. Her head is thrown back, one hand grasping the faucet and another gripping his hair weakly, her legs practically shaking against his shoulders. "Mike," she chokes out, "I'm … "
"Going to come again?" He fills in for her, his tongue stroking against her, in sweeping circles then sharp taps that make her practically scream in pleasure. A half moan, half cry escapes from her throat, and Mike presses her legs further apart. "I didn't forget, you know," he voice is warm against her slick skin.
When he adds one finger inside her as his tongue continues against her clit, he feels her start to convulse, back arching up off the counter. With a gentle hand he pushes her body down onto the counter while tapping his tongue against her, enjoying himself too much for this to be over yet. Mike curls one of her legs over his shoulder and adds a second finger to the first, and her eyes widen at the sudden intrusion. She's impossibly wet, practically drenched, and he knows this isn't going to take much longer, so he pumps his fingers inside of her, brushing the spot within her that only he knows exists.
"MIke," her voice is wrought with pleasure and he as she finally comes, her entire body shuddering, her hips rock against his face, and every muscle in her body tightens as her orgasm overtakes her. She moans and writhes against him, and he watches her in awe, completely mesmerized by her pleasure.
He'll never get tired of hearing her moan his name like that.
Mike is holding her when she stills, her legs still shaking against him. He stands upright, grinning at her, pleased with himself as she pants, and he rests a hand between her breasts to feel her beating heart in her chest. Mike helps her sit up, and Nadine's head rests against his shoulder for what seems like hours, but in reality, not more than few long moments.
Her sudden intake of breath, then followed by a warm, wet slide of her cheek against his collarbone tells him she's crying. "Hey," he whispers to her, tenderly, his finger under her chin. "Look at me."
"It's okay," he says, using the pad of his thumb to swipe a tear away from her face.
"I might miss you." Nadine runs her fingers down his arms, nails scratching his skin lightly as he massages the soft skin behind her neck. "I'm sorry this is how it has to end." Her word ring true in his ears. It might be unfair, but it's reality, but he's not about to face it quite yet.
"Don't think about it right now," He grips her underneath the arms, lifting her down off the counter, setting her down on the hard floor, and backing her toward the dark hallway leading to her bedroom."Besides, I'm not finished with you yet," he adds darkly, his pants now impossibly uncomfortable.
Somehow they make it into the bedroom unscathed. Nadine is wobbly on her legs, which isn't surprising him after the two orgasms he gave her, so when they finally reach her bed, he lifts her like she weighs nothing and tosses her on top, before settling next to her. She's flushed from head to toe, completely naked in her bed, and he wants to commit this moment to memory.
Mike wants to fuck her hard until she can't walk tomorrow, but he also wants to take her slowly and savor the remaining time he has with her. Nadine has already started undoing his jeans, nearly tearing the zipper off, and he moans audibly when her hand brushes against his length. She's actually going to kill me before she even leaves, he thinks as her attempts to get his pants off fails.
"Need some help?" He quips, pushing his jeans and boxers over his hips, and his cock is so hard he could take her right then and there. Her small hand wraps around the base of him and begins to move, up and down.
"Oh god," he falls back into her pillows, his hips jerking towards her hands. If she does this too long, he's going to come, and who knows how long it will take him to recover. He grabs her wrist, gently, to pause her movements, kissing the delicate bones of her wrist, moving his lips in a circle.
Mike shifts them both, settling her into the pillows. This time he moves them so he rests between her legs, his torso coming to cover hers. He presses kisses on her neck and shoulders. He rubs himself against her center, her warmth and wetness teasing him as he continues to kiss her. Nadine looks apprehensive - it's been awhile, he's ridiculously hard, and she knows what he feels like inside her. He catches her eye and smiles gently, resting his weight on his forearms on either side of her. "Relax," he whispers, brushing her hair from her face. "I've got you. Just enjoy this."
She knows he does, and with a small nod she spreads her legs wider, allowing him access to her entrance. Mike takes both of her hands, presses them into the mattress above her head, and slowly pushes himself inside of her, not stopping until he's completely buried inside of her. She's warm and tight around him, impossibly so. Nadine is still holding his hands, one of her legs hooking around his waist. He kisses her, and she whispers, "fuck me, Mike," low and soft right in his ear.
He was planning on going slowly, to savor the moment and make it last, but clearly that's not what she wants, and tonight is about her, and what she needs.
Mike nearly comes right there inside of her, but instead pulls out and drives right back into her, a small squeal emitting from her lips. He grips her waist tightly, driving in and out of her and pulling her hips down onto his cock each time. One of her legs makes its way above his shoulder, her heel pressed against his neck, and she grips his wrists so she doesn't fall off the bed. "That feels so good," she pants in his ear, pressing her forehead to his shoulder.
"You feel fucking amazing," he breathes into her neck as he drives into her yet again, his lips trailing between her breasts and planting kisses on each side of her sternum. "God, Nadine, you're … god you're beautiful." He's never enjoyed sex with anyone nearly as much as he enjoys it with her. She bites his earlobe, and he practically growls in her ear. "I want you to come."
"Harder, and I will" she orders, and digs her heels into his back to urge him on. He deepens his thrusts, fully sheathing himself within her and pausing for a few seconds before pulling out of her and pounding into her again. He watches her face carefully, making sure he's not hurting her, but instead she looks rather to be enjoying this, so he takes that as his cue to keep going.
Mike moans and drives into her again, feeling his own release starting to build. "Nadine, I'm close," he groans, his mouth capturing one of her nipples between his teeth and biting down gently. "You feel so good," his hips punctuate his words, and she meets his thrusts with her hips, letting him control the pace.
She must have been close too, because soon after she cries, "FUCK, Mike, I'm going to come." She reaches for him, wanting him close to her. Nadine's legs start to shake, and she comes hard with a loud moan as Mike wraps his arm around her, holding her as her cries muffle into his shoulder. Her orgasm rips through her body, leaving her trembling in his arms. "Mike," she murmurs, her body still shaking.
Mike is getting incredibly close, and watching her orgasm while moaning his name and holding onto him is enough to push him over the edge. Her muscles flutter around his cock and he drives into her a few more times, moving his hips in a well-timed circle inside of her, brushing against her clit. She moans audibly into his ear he finally comes inside of her, pulling her even closer until they're wrapped around each other, limbs tangled, bodies joined, breathing heavily.
"Fuck, Nadine," Mike's voice is hoarse, and he kisses her, their lips melting together as their sweat-soaked skin cools in the chilly bedroom air. "That was incredible."
"Always has been," Nadine smiles, running her hand through his now tousled hair.
She's still sensitive, so he pulls out of her gently and settles next to her. She drapes her leg over his, maybe to remind him she's still there. As if he forgot. He's still trying to regain control of his own senses, and after their performance, he's going to need a few minutes to compose himself. Next to him, she's quiet, but takes his hand gives it a gentle squeeze.
...
Neither of them sleep very much that night. Instead, they talk, and talk a lot - of his recent work, of her plans once she arrives in San Francisco - and reminisce about the state department, and a few of their own personal memories. It's cathartic, but still manages to chafe at their old wounds and leave them both feeling unsettled. And when she gets tired of talking, which happens somewhere around 1, she hushes him with her lips and pushes him down flat, dropping her lips all over his chest. And, if he's not mistaken, her lips pause directly over his heart, lingering there for a few moments. And when she hooks her leg over his and straddles his waist, he lays back and enjoys the sensation of her hips rocking over his and her warmth, which temporarily blocks out anything else in his mind. She rides him hard and fast until he easily flips them both, settling her onto her back. He props her legs onto his shoulders and slowly thrusts into her until they both come again. She's too sore for anything else at this point, so he is gentle with her and kisses her through her fourth orgasm of the night.
They both nod off somewhere around 3, still wrapped in each other's arms, the rain still beating against the windows. Her head rests on his shoulder, her legs draped over his lap, and he taps his fingers against her hip, feeling the small empty space in his heart tear open just a bit wider.
...
It's 5 when he stirs, immediately aware of his unfamiliarly familiar surroundings. He knows she's awake when he opens his eyes, and he reaches for her. His hand finds its way between her legs once more, and within minutes she's flat on her back again, her slender legs wrapped neatly around his waist. Mike kisses her as slides into her easily, and she rocks her hips against his slowly, as if she never wants it to end. Maybe if they move slowly enough, they'll go back in time.
"You are beautiful, Nadine," He murmurs in her ear, each word timed with a deliberate thrust of his hips. She smiles into his neck, leaving a trail of kisses down his shoulder 're both uncharacteristically quiet as he moves within her, still as slowly as before, foreheads pressed together, a few wayward tears blending together as they both come together. Their bodies are so close together they may as well be one, and he holds her against him as both of their breathing returns to normal.
They lose track of time but it's still dark out when she finally slips from his embrace.
Nadine rolls over to check her phone, a soft "damnit" escaping her bruised lips when she realizes it's close to 7 AM and she has a full day of packing and logistics to take care of. She climbs out of bed quickly, immediately noticing the familiar aches throughout her body and the one between her legs. She's not surprised, considering the circumstances.
She reaches for her robe. "We need to find your shirt," she says, starting to pull the silken fabric on.
"Dont," He pushes the robe to the floor. He holds her arms at her sides, fingers looped firmly around her wrists, and he stares at her for more than a full minute, as if committing every inch of her to his memory. She shudders, knowing exactly what he's doing, unsure if she wants it to end.
Her hands come to rest on his shoulders, and she kisses the side of his arm. There's a lump rising in her throat, and he'll be damn if he tells her about the one in his, but when their eyes meet, they both know. She wraps her robe tightly around her, securing the belt in a haphazard knot as he pulls on the clothes he'd worn last night, neither of them making eye contact or saying much. What needs to be said has been said. He finds his shirt and pulls it on, and goosebumps form on her spine.
She walks him to the door, and with a shaking hand, attempts the knob. She struggles with it, and Mike's hand covers hers, guiding her fingers over the deadbolt, twisting it open. This is it, he realizes, when her hands fall to her sides.
There's nothing left to do, she thinks. All he has to do is leave.
He knows he needs to leave. He knew he'd eventually have to when he came over in the first place, but he never thought leaving would be this hard. He swallows hard, and cradles her face in his hands. "I'll miss you," his voice is thick. "Be careful out there." He kisses her forehead, down to the tip of her nose, and then a chaste kiss on the lips.
"I know," she whispers, her fingers laced behind his neck. "I'm glad you came by," she tries, and if he's not mistaken, her voice is equally as thick. There are more words she could say, wants to say, but nothing sounds right to her, at least not now.
"I am too. Come back and visit every now and then?" He wonders how he's just supposed to walk out of her place and on with his day like none of this happened?
"I will." Her voice starts to crack, and he silences her by pressing his mouth to hers.
Mike and Nadine share one more kiss, one that reminds them of the very first one months ago on election night, one they won't forget for a long time.
Finally, he pulls away, and quickly slings his jacket over his shoulders, not bothering to put his arms through. He won't even notice the cold, or the rain. She turns away as he steps out the door and out of her life, and he doesn't see her shoulders start to tremble as the door clicks shut behind him.
…
Now to dissolve into a puddle of sads. I miss Bebe already.