Please review and thank you for reading. They're around 17 at the start of the story.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Sisters Grimm
Sabrina stood there in the cold, brightly lit interior of the airport. Her arms were wrapped around Puck, who was kissing her hair, and she was sobbing into his shoulder. "It's ok," he whispered into her ear "it's ok, it's ok, it's ok..." Tears starting running down his face "Dammit Sabrina you're making me cry! Do you know what's that's going to do to my reputation?" She pressed herself harder into his neck, shaking slightly "Listen, I'll be back before you know it ok? We'll call every day. I'll write. It'll be fine alright?"
Sabrina lifted her head off his shoulder, sniffing. "Promise?" she whispered.
"Promise. Hope to die," he said, making an cross over his heart. He grinned at her, and she smiled slightly, pulling him back in.
"I'm a mess right now," she mumbled into his chest "I can't believe I'm crying. I never cry."
"Better you cried that I was leaving than not at all. Otherwise I'd think you didn't care."
"Of course I care. At least you're crying too." the corners of her lips twitched upwards, and she stroked his cheek.
"Well yeah," he admitted sheepishly, "but only because you are." she started crying again, soaking his already wet shoulder. Suddenly, the airport intercom rattled out its tinny message
Attention. Those taking the 10:30 plane to Los Angeles, the plane is now open for boarding. Thank you.
It closed with a squeal and Puck slowly pulled her head away from him. He brushed the tears of her face and gave a small chuckle.
"That's my cue."
"Don't leave..." Sabrina whispered
"I have to..."
"I know but I don't want you to..." Tears built up in her eyes and Puck grabbed her shoulders gently, looking into her eyes.
"Don't Sabrina. Please. You're making this harder than it has to be. You're stronger than this! You've fought monsters, you've killed dragons, but you can't handle me leaving for a couple of years?"
She grimaced. "No."
He smiled. "No, I can't either. But I have to. You understand that right?"
She nodded slightly, a brief incline of her head.
"Ok." He slowly bent down to pick up his carry-on bag.
"Wait!" she said sharply
"Yeah?" he asked
"I love you."
He smiled. "I love you too." He pulled her in, bringing their lips together for a fleeting moment. Short. Sweet. It was the best he could do, before he started crying again. He broke away, and began to walk slowly backwards, keeping his eyes locked on her.
"Phone every day!" she called, as he neared the gate "And write every week!"
"I will!" He entered the gate, and was gone from view. Sabrina's shoulders started shaking, and she felt Granny Relda's arm loop through hers.
"Let's go home liebling." Sabrina nodded, unable to form words, and they walked slowly out of the airport, to that creaking machine they called a car.
X
Puck had stayed true to his promise.
Every day he had called her, sounded tired but happy, the constant change in time zones magnifying his jet lag. They'd talk for hours, the phone bill growing ever higher, at just about anything, from the newest magical item Puck had just gotten, to the diverse colours of Granny's recently cooked dinner.
The letters they sent were pages long. Written down in blue or black ink, they'd arrive every week, filled with both stories of Puck's adventures and his innermost thoughts, most of them concerning the girl he sent them to, or in Sabrina's case, her most recent mysteries and the events happening at home.
However, there were always two things that remained constant amidst all their communication: they'd always end with 'I love you', and they never felt it was enough.
Calling each other and hearing their voices was little consolation to their pain of being away, and there were several nights when Sabrina would cry into her pillow, clutching a green hoodie, or Puck would stand in the shower and think for almost an hour about her, tears and water dripping down his face.
Then one day, the letters stopped.
...
It was gradual at first, a missed week here and there, one letter a couple pages shorter than the rest, enough to worry Sabrina slightly but not enough to actually make her take action. He's probably just tired, she thought, I can't blame him, travelling all over the world.
But soon, the missed weeks built up, piled on each other, tumbling and falling, and though Sabrina sent letters every week, she soon failed to receive any in return. But she still had the phone calls right? A lack of letters would be alright as long as he called every day? Except he didn't.
It began with he'd only call once every three days, then it became once a week, than once a fortnight, then once every month, until eventually the fact that Puck called her was a larger surprise than the fact that he didn't. Their conversations were short, to the point, formal, the time dwindling down from 2 hours to 1 hour to 10 minutes. 5 minutes. 3 minutes. 1.
It had cut her, like a knife, to see how little he cared. She wanted to scream at him, yell at him, 'Why don't you care?! Why don't you reply?'. But she knew that if she did, he'd call even less, and she couldn't take that. So all she could do was move on with her life, nursing the bittersweet hope that one day he'd love her again, fighting the almost constant urge to buy a plane ticket and fly to wherever he was.
One night, she was lying in bed and the phone rang. Jerking with shock, she bolted down the stairs and picked up the receiver, hoping against hope it was him. It was. The voice on the other end was shaky, and nervous.
"Hey."
"Hey."
"How are you?"
"Good. You?"
"Not bad." A short silence followed.
"So... where are you?"
"America." Another silence.
"Why haven't you called recently?"
"..." A loud gulp followed "I've been busy."
"Right."
"Right."
"When are you coming back?"
"I'm not sure. Depends."
"On what?"
"Whether we find what we're looking for. How long it'll take. That kind of thing."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"I miss you." There was a quiet wheeze.
"I... think about you." Hot tears sprang to her eyes, and her voice fell to a trembling whisper.
"I love you." A single choke. A final silence.
"...I have to go now Sabrina. Bye." She hung up, slamming the phone on the cradle and went back upstairs, crying.
...
She knew it was over now.
He didn't call again, after that night, and she stopped sending letters.
She looked at herself in the mirror, wiped her nose, dried her eyes, smiled, and moved on. She went on dates with other guys, although none of them lasted long, did her homework, watched TV, sat exams, talked to her friends.
She seemed to all the world that she was fine, happy, like him leaving had never bothered her at all.
But Daphne knew, and Granny knew, and Mr Canis knew. They saw the white box under her bed, a green hoodie carefully folded inside. They saw her careful avoidance of his room, and her intense dislike towards chimpanzees. They saw all this but said nothing. Because what could they say? She had chosen her own path, and he his, and for now, they were content.
Broken. But content.