"And we know it's never simple, never easy. Never a clean break. No one here to save me. You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand, and I can't breathe without you."
-Taylor Swift
James sat in front of the fire staring blankly ahead, nursing a half-drunk bottle of firewhiskey in one hand and a slightly crumpled photograph in the other. Throwing back his head to down another stinging swig of the alcohol, the flames tossed his shadowed features into sharp relief. He looked haggard as if he hadn't slept in days. There were dark bags under his eyes which were red-rimmed and filled with repressed tears. A five o'clock shadow had morphed into a scratchy beard, and his hair looked like it hadn't been touched in weeks. James' clothes were in a dismal state. His shirt was stained and wrinkled, not even smelling like her anymore. He'd been wearing those jeans for nearly a week and a half straight.
James Potter was a mess.
He looked down at the picture again, running a finger lightly down the red head's profile. She smiled brightly, emerald eyes blazing as she waved up at him.
"I miss you, Lils." His voice came out as a croak.
Today would have been their one year anniversary, and James had had the whole thing planned out nearly two months in advance. He was going to take her to her favorite restaurant, Soirée Etoiles, where he'd proposed nearly two years previously. And then, with the help of the rest of the Marauders and Lily's friends, he was going to whisk her away to a quiet little clearing by a lake where, as he'd carefully planned it, the moonlight would be flowing down over the entire scene. The Spanish moss hung in intricate designs from the massive willow tree that branched over the dark lake where he'd first told her he'd loved her. With a simple flick of his wand, their wedding song was going to start playing seemingly from the air around them, and they were simply going to dance in the moonlight under the stars.
Instead, James was sitting, drunk out of his mind, in front of the fireplace in their cottage. Godric's Hollow was no longer the cozy place it once had been, but rather a dark memory of what could have been. All of the rooms were dark, the windows shuttered, the furniture covered, the curtains drawn. After all, there was no more life in the house without her.
Just a short little angsty, one-shot that I found stuffed away in the back folders on my computer. I'm debating turning it into a short, multi-chap, so let me know what you think. R and R, please.
Sunny Days,
AIT