Disclaimer: I do not own The Wannabe, I'm just pooping all over it.
THE WANNABE: GOODBYE
She wishes she had taken in every moment. She wishes that all those times of seething, of storming off and turning her back to him, that she had stayed to apologize. She wishes she had stopped to remember every detail, the way his arms would cross, left over right, how he'd lean on tall palm trees in such a manner for the leaves to shield him, make an invisible shell, one she could have broken if she had realized soon enough. She wishes she had taken the time to see his eyes not filled with loathing and dull shades of brown, but russet orbs that had been waiting, waiting, for anyone to notice.
Would things have been different if one of them did? Would he not be standing in front of her now, his feet so close to the shore the waves could snarl and seize him away from her in the night?
He doesn't have bags to pack and letters to explain, but she doesn't need written words to drive a bigger stake in her chest. Her fists clenches and trembles, not because of the weight he has put on her shoulders, the responsibility of telling the others what happened the next morning, but because she isn't ready for him to pull this over her so quickly, to hit her in the face with inevitable reality.
She is an idiot if she thinks the six of them could stay together forever.
She hears the seagulls cry in the night and the birds shriek her thoughts outloud, sees the moon hanging in the black sky and shine a pale light over the side of his face, the only part of him she could distinguish not camouflaged in the darkness. He turns to her slightly, expectantly, because the sharp breath she holds is waiting to burst.
She is not a superhero. She can't stretch her arms at great distances like Madison, hold him and never let go. She can't freeze time or make the minutes become years, just to keep him a while longer. She is powerless, useless, a Wannabe. And so she resorts to the only thing she can do.
"Please don't leave me," she speaks softly, and waits.
Slowly, he turns his whole face to her, and his eyes look dead and his mouth is set in a grim line. His cheeks do not contort and his mouth does not open until he willingly does so himself, and when he does there is a bottomless pit, a cave of bareness, absolutely nothing at all, and the only thing that comes out is a single breath of air when his lips form the word goodbye.
End.
Author's Note: LOL, ANGST TO THE MAX! Sorry Marissa, it's okay if you don't like it. *hides*