Title: Hold your breath.
Rating: PG.
Character: Sawyer, Kate/Sawyer.
Summary: She's gone; she's gone and it's not really your fault, but you can't help feeling it is. Like your parents: it was neither your fault (it was hers, hers and his), but you still feel it is.
N/A: written for 30breathtakes's #21 scent; musk; perfume; cologne.
Disclaimer: Lost and its characters do not belong to me.
Reviewing doesn't cause infertility.
She's gone; she's gone and it's not really your fault, but you can't help feeling it is. Like your parents: it was neither your fault (it was hers, hers and his), but you still feel it is.
You roam in bed, small and golden rays of sun entering through the window, laying on your face, waking you up even if you don't want to open your eyes, because it'd mean too much effort. It's a new day and you don't want to live it, you don't want to leave the comfortable, reliable safety of your cotton sheets, still impregnated of her scent. You prefer to roll over your own shit.
At least it's consoling.
However, a time comes in which you don't find any more solace in inhaling the floating rests of her perfume, over and over again, like some kind of cocaine addict calling for the stuff that would give him the peace he desperately needs. So you wash the sheets, the pillow, the blankets, trying to remove her smell. Spicy, musk, just like her. One day you had her, and a blinking after she was gone. But her presence is still here, with you, and no matter how hard you attempt to make it disappear, it'll be always there.
Trust me, forgetting has never been easy.
There's only one thing left you can do. Roll on the sheets, covered with memories of her, the one who left you behind, look for her scent in the bedding and, when you find it, hold your breath.
Stop breathing at all.