A/N: I never thought I would write this. But all this pain is hard to deal with lately, and this piece came to me at 1:20am while my eyes are burning and my throat hurts. Maybe I'm the one who needs to let go. But it's so damn hard.

I apologize in advance.

Inspired by You Could Be Happy by Snow Patrol and a line in Taylor's song New Years Day (Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere).

"You're still here," he murmurs sleepily from the bed, as she makes her way towards him. "Thought you might have left." The untrusting tone in his voice reminds her of how much things have changed. Because no matter what, he never let her all the way back in.

"What, without saying goodbye?" She asks incredulously, even though she did exactly that months back. She's wearing his t-shirt, loving the way it smells of him. He has stopped trying to get her to stop stealing his clothes a long time ago. Even now, she always leaves with a shirt, or a hoodie. Sometimes she brings them back when they stop smelling like his orange-scented shower gel.

She slips into bed—into the safe comfort of his warmth. He gulps as she settles down next to him, facing him. She knows what is about to come. She knows the words that he's about to speak will be the hardest. "We can't keep doing this," he says; this being them hooking up randomly whenever one of them needs it over the last couple of months.

It started soon after his undercover case. Her being there, in whatever way, helped him more than he was willing to admit. It was the push he needed to get help. It was the comfort he needed at the time. And then it got into a habit, and they'd see each other whenever they could.

But this was never what he wanted. Stolen moments, flickers of passion, and radio silence in between. It was never the same after she left, they never got past it. And they both deserve better. As happy he is that he got more time with her, he feels like they're stuck.

"I know," she replies, because she does know. Because as always, they're on the exactly same page. Her heart threatens to break with a sound that will be heard across the country, but she swallows her tears. It's time for her to repay him for everything he ever did for her.

She needs to let go for him.

I can be strong for you. I can let go.

He will never do it. They both became to depend of these moments of warmth in the midst of all the cold too much. She needs to be brave for him. She needs to leave. Because he won't ask her to.

Tears trickle down her cheeks, and she doesn't make an attempt to wipe them away. They're there for a reason, she thinks. A silent reminder of just how powerful this love between them is. Was.

Is. Because there is no scenario, and there is no world where she would ever stop loving him—his boyish smile, and the constellation of freckles on his arms, spreading on his face. The deep blue of his eyes that looks so clear now. As clear as the sky the morning after it rained all night. The sadness she can see there—sadness she put there.

"I love you," she whispers, leaning in for a kiss. It's messy, wet from the tears sliding down both of their cheeks now. It seems to last forever, and yet not long enough, and she tries to burn it into her mind forever, so she will have something to keep her warm in the cold nights that are about to follow.

I love you, so I have to let you go.

When they finally separate, he breathes her in, his eyes closed, and she chooses that moment to slip from his arms. He keeps his eyes closed, almost stubbornly, not wanting to see what he knows. What he can hear.

Then there is nothing left but silence, and his shirt neatly folded on the edge of his bed, and the dent in the pillow where her head used to lay. Her fragrance lingers in the room even hours after she's gone, her touch still burning his skin.

I love you.

Be happy.

He's afraid to open his eyes, because when he does his world will have changed drastically. His world will be a world without her. And even though he refused to watch her go, he's pretty sure the sound of her sob, right before the door clicked shut, will haunt him forevermore.

The only way he can fall asleep that night is by imagining another world, where she didn't have to go, and a world where they would be right for each other again. And even though he wakes in the morning, realizing the dream was just a dream, it makes him get through the night.

And for that moment, that's enough.

She recognizes his laugh in the afternoon rush of people sipping on their coffees. Even after all these years, she can hear it as clearly as she ever could, and it takes her right back to the time when she used to be the reason behind that laugh. Her eyes scan the people sitting outside at a coffee shop, and she sees him. His laugh is directed at a beautiful blonde who looks at him like she used to. Or better said, he used to look at the woman the way he used to look at her.

Then a giggle interrupts her thoughts, and her eyes travel to the beautiful little girl in his lap. She knows then, by the freckles on the girl's face, and her blue eyes and their carefree laughter that she did the right thing all those years ago. She had been wondering if he ever found happiness. Now she knows.

She did the right thing, when she let him go.

She keeps her head down as she walks past them, his head snapping up—the smile on his face gone. His look burns her skin. He knows. He still recognizes her.

"Erin?"

She keeps her head down, never showing that she heard him. Barely, she makes it to the alley, where she can crumble on the floor. And in all the heartbreak making its way to the surface, she feels thankful that she got to hear his voice say her name at least one more time.

And knowing he's happy—it's enough.