She rubs her face roughly, tears swelling in her chest. They don't quite reach the surface - they never do.
He is gone. She's so utterly pathetic and he is gone. Her bones honestly feel like they are threatening to snap under the weight of her pain.
Glass shoots through her veins with each thought. She knows that he is gone yet continues to rewind through the past six months.
Six months.
Black hands of anxiety creep their way through her body and wrap themselves around her lungs, clenching.
Over as quickly as it began. Six months. He's not coming back.
Images of him-with-her surface in her mind and serve as a punch to the stomach.
It was never as though it was perfect, but she didn't quite know it was what it was.
His toxicity is lightning on a summers evening. Entranced her and she forgot the danger.
Merlin, she loved the thrill.
There is barely a single shard of her that doesn't want him to walk through her door right now. She doesn't care. She would forgive it all.
It's so pathetic, she knows. Astoria Greengrass has never been weak.
It's just like she's never known herself until him and maybe it's only been six months, but she had never felt more alive.
She chokes on a tear or a breath or a skipped heart beat as it hits her again. Who is she?
She can no longer remember. He has torn up her mind and her thoughts and her heart - replacing everything she knows with his ink and his marks.
The door. She stares at it in silence, chest heaving.
Hours pass. He does not come.
AN: ehhhhh, long time no writing. Feeling a little rusty. Might continue this? Thoughts?