At a truck stop diner just outside of Lincoln,
The night as black as the coffee he was drinking,
And in the waitress' eyes he sees the same old light a-shining,
He thinks of Colorado, and the girl he left behind him.
"Colder Weather," by the Zac Brown Band
Severus was on the road again. He couldn't stop roaming, couldn't stop leaving anywhere he ever went. It was too hard to sit still, too hard to be in any place long. It was in his bones, and he lived for it. He loved travelling, loved sleeping in dingy inns, and loved hunting for the men no one else could find. The question that was plaguing him, that was making his travels hurt silently, was whether he loved her enough to give it up.
And that was a decision he couldn't make tonight, couldn't make this week, hadn't been able to make for the last three and a half years. Seeing her in that coffee shop almost six months ago… that had been hard. Seeing her hurt and knowing it was his fault was even harder. And the very worst part of it was not wanting to fix it, not really. He just wished he could have both.
They'd tried the Apparating thing, they'd tried Portkeys, and they'd tried loving one another even when they were apart. He couldn't do it, couldn't settle enough to be held to a schedule and blamed for missing his scheduled weekends with her, and she couldn't live without the constancy of a real partner. They'd been whipping against each other for a year before he ended it, telling her he would be back soon, and walking out the door. But he hadn't returned, hadn't owled, hadn't even ever said goodbye.
It nauseated him, made him sick, to think that he was accountable to anyone. That she wanted to tame him, wanted him to hold her every night, kiss her every day. He couldn't, wouldn't, be held in that way. Not even by Hermione. Not even by his love.