It is not so much what happens as what doesn't. The world does not stop turning. The stars do not go out. And he is expected to get over her and them just as he is with every other fallen solder. But her loss hits him in the emptiest ways. On the first day he knows she is gone, he walks to the kitchen, only to find his coffee not made. He makes his own, but it doesn't taste like her's. The second day he starts to drink tea. I'll be dammed if this is moving on. Because it's the little things, like when he turns his head to say something and no one is there, or the fact that his bed will never feel full again. This is the legacy of Petra Ral. This is not moving on. This is the crippling sadness that only hits you every so often.
Is this what she wanted to become? No. She could've been great. Now she was only a sadness. Maybe this isn't what she wanted, but this is what she has become and he hates the way he loves her. He hates the way he yearns to hear her lips form his name again. He hates the way that he cannot physically handle the fact that their hands will no longer touch and their lips will no longer meet. He does not want to forget her. He does not want to forget the way she smiled or the way he felt when he saw her for the first time. But he knows he will and it kills him. Even if he manages to carry out her memory through the rest of his mortal life, he will die. Even if her memory is celebrated for centuries, everything ends. He can't handle that. He doesn't care that he will die one day. He cares that she is dead, and that her memory will most likely die with him. He was a survivor. Survivors are the dammed.
She wasn't gone. She wasn't. She would be walking into his study now, ready to train. Then he would scold her for not letting her injuries heal and she would roll her eyes at him. She isn't gone. Clear as day. She wasn't gone, she couldn't be gone. Because where would he be if she Petra, his springtime in eternal winter, was gone? Oh, right. Here. Slouched over on his desk with a bottle in hand. Drunk off his ass because of his inability to deal. Humanity's strongest! He could barley stand up! This is not the end. This is only the beginning of something that will last a lifetime. Now his earth was condemned to eternal winter. To bear this bitter cold is too much to ask, but many times too much has been asked of him. Still, he prevails. Lance Corporal Levi, never backing down.
It was a burden. This job, this life, this world. And he bears it. This world is to much, and yet he bears the burdens of humanity. It is he that must do this, as if it were chosen by fate. Now he had to deal with her loss as well. Maybe his next life would be something simpler. He could dream. He couldn't stop feeling condemned. As if he had been placed here simply to be a plaything of fate. Give a man the shittiest circumstances possible. Then, give him hope in the form of a man. When things start to look up, take it away in the most painful way possible. His next life will be better. But will it? No matter how much he has lost he cannot forget all the people he has sent to their deaths. This is the worst life, because it is not terrible. Because it would be wrong to complain when so much has been given too him. But still, everyone has their own burdens to bear. Even her. Even Petra, who he had deemed perfect in every way. Still she must have flaws. I will devote myself to him. That is what she told her father. I am still devoted to you, Petra. He wanted to tell her. But he couldn't because death is the final ending. No do overs. Nothing. Had he ever told her he loved her? He thought it was obvious, but maybe it wasn't. These were the things that bothered him now. The absence of her face and the things she did that made everything better. Petra. It was time to stop bringing her back.
A/N: Well, that was intresting. I started writing in study hall and this happened. Hopefully it isn't too terrible.