I can't drink you gone

I can't smoke you out

I can't eat away the way that you ate my heart out

Coffee cups upon coffee cups piled up by the sink.

Tina felt guilty just leaving them out, but she knew Queenie didn't mind cleaning them up. She'd drink her coffee at the speed of light and just leave the dregs in the ceramic cup right there on the table. After that she'd grab her coat and bolt to work; sometimes before Queenie was even awake. She didn't want to have to explain.

She even began practicing basic occlumency to keep her uncontrollably insightful sister in the dark. She didn't want her seeing what had run repeatedly through her head for the past two weeks.

She was on her way home to pen another letter. It had been a few weeks since she'd heard from Newt, but she wrote that off as a side effect of his busy schedule. She smiled to herself as she thought about seeing him again. His publication date was so close. She thought about his freckles and his broad smile, and how he radiated the few times she got to see it.

Then she spotted it. His face... on a magazine?

She swerved off of her path and over to Ruby's desk where the pale green copy of Spellbound lay. "Hey, Ruby, could I take a look-" she began, but abandoned all hopes of niceness when she saw the bold title: BEAST TAMER NEWT TO WED. Before Ruby knew what happened, Tina had snatched the magazine and stormed off to her office.

It couldn't be. She sat slowly at her desk, looking warily at the newspaper, tears threatening to cross the threshold and come careening down her cheeks. She slowly flipped to page four, where she saw an all too familiar face leaned against Newt's arm. She didn't even need to read the article. That gorgeous face had been burned in her brain since the moment she saw it framed in Newt's hut.

That was the moment her tears' threat came to fruition. It was the end of the day, so hardly anyone was left at MACUSA to hear her crying loud and long in her office.

By the time she collected herself it was dark out. She conjured a mirror and stared into her own haggard face. Her hair was a mess, and her face was red as roses, but not nearly as happy. How was she to face Queenie? We'll cross that bridge when we get there, she thought.

She used the walk home to try to make herself presentable, but to no avail. She walked into her flat as messy and red as she was ten minutes before, and was instantly greeted by Queenie's concern.

"Hey, Teen," she started, "you're home late." Tina saw her sister focus and immediately threw up walls to keep her out of her head. Queenie had kept it secret that she was seeing Jacob, so she didn't get to know about the storm surging in Tina's heart.

The room grew stale.

"The food's gone cold," Queenie said softly, turning away.

"It's fine," Tina muttered in response. "I'm not hungry. Goodnight," she added, and turned on her heel to make for the bedroom.

Queenie watched her stomp away, noticing the crumpled papers in her fist. She decided to leave her alone for awhile.

Tina sat on the edge of her bed, winded. It was odd; all she had done was walk home. Stupid emotions.

She let the pages she ripped from the magazine fall to the floor and kicked them under the bed. She couldn't make herself throw them away, but she didn't want to look at them anymore.

She flopped back onto the bed and resumed crying, her innermost thoughts attacking her like wizards at war. Where did she go wrong? Maybe I misunderstood, she mused, thinking about all the kind words she'd devoured with her eyes, every week overflowing with excitement at the sight of his messy scrawl hanging from the beak of a tawny owl. Lies, all of it.

He told her he missed her and he couldn't stop thinking about her. He told her stories of his childhood and of his relationships with his family. They had learned a lot about each other in the past months. Apparently not enough.

That's what I get, wasting my time on someone who isn't even here. The face that taunted her even while Newt was with her in New York slipped back into her mind. Of all the people to leave me for, why did it have to be her?

All of the insecurities she'd built up throughout her lifetime came rushing back. She sobbed again, and turned over to use the pillow to muffle the sounds of her despair. She prayed Queenie couldn't hear her through the heavy wooden door.

The door outside of which Queenie was sifting through the day's mail, and her eyes clapped onto the concerning headline on this month's edition of her favorite magazine.