people had a funny way of tearing themselves apart.
(funny in that there was nothing funny about it at all and it was actually quite painful.)
raven saw garfield everywhere now—
on the bus, on the streets, at work, in the grocery stores, at the mall, at restaurants. even at museums, art shows, poetry readings, botanical gardens, theatres, her fucking pottery classes too. places where garfield wouldn't dream of setting foot into, places where garfield didn't know existed, places where garfield didn't belong.
(but then again, any place by raven's side was a place where garfield didn't belong.)
she swore that he was haunting him. he was a ghost, a shadow of her mind.
(he was everything and she should have realized it sooner.)
raven couldn't tell what was real and what was not anymore, and it was becoming her undoing. she was splitting at the seams, unraveling to reveal one grand disaster. most days, it was bearable. she could lie and tell herself she was fine. some days, she couldn't keep her hands from shaking, her bones trembling along with them. on bad days, her lungs would collapse and breathing would become too heavy a burden for her to handle. she'd lie on the ground, shaking and releasing jagged breaths, barely managing to keep it together as she reminded herself that he wasn't real.
he's not here.
he's not here.
he's not here.
that was the thing though. garfield wasn't there, but he could've been. he could've been there on the bus with her, eating lunch with her, listening to spoken words with her, making pottery with her. he could've been there for all these things and more.
but he wasn't.
and it was her fault.
raven tore them apart and now she was tearing herself apart.
(life was so cruelly ironic.)
hello! happy holidays everyone!
here's a short bbrae fic! it'll be about 3-4 chapters, i'm not entirely sure yet.
next part should be up in a couple days, feedback would be lovely in the meantime :)
- vivian xx