A/N: Hey guys! I'm back with a continuation of another drabble I wrote here, Sunday On A Corner

Shout out to DDaughterofAthena for requesting a sequel!

(Please check out chapter 33 if you have not already done so to understand where this one picks up from!)

Anyway, here ya go:

The first Sunday he doesn't go to the corner marks the beginning of acceptance. Acceptance that she's not coming back. Acceptance of the past.

The first Sunday he doesn't go to the corner he spends in bed with tears running down his face as he stares at the empty side of the bed.

She's really gone.

He's really never going to see her again. He's never going to get a chance to say –

And the thought kills him. He remembers that day as if it were yesterday. The yelling, the anger, the words said in heat, her slamming the door, her leaving, her not coming back.

A new wave of tears rush down his face and his heart aches painfully because all he wants is one more chance. One more chance to say sorry, to tell her how much he loves her, to say goodbye.

But he's never going to get that chance and now she's gone and she'll never know how sorry he was. How much he wished it was him in her place. Just so she could go on with her life.

She would have done so much more with it, she had so many plans and ideas and hopes and dreams and she deserved it. Instead he was the one who got life, and what had he done other than wait and cry.

God he could imagine her now, face scrunched up, as she scolded him to get up off his butt and go do something, take out the trash, help her with dinner, take a walk.

She would have been so mad to see him like this, laying in bed crying his eyes out with a broken heart.

The thought stills him.

She really would have been upset to see him like this.

He sits up.

The bed in unmade, clothes lie on the floor unwashed, the dishes are piled in the sink, there is a coating of dust everywhere.

She would hate this.

And somehow that makes him get up. Makes him pick up the clothes and wash the dishes and vacuum the apartment.

At the end of it all he actually feels better.

"There," he says to the air, "I hope you like this better."

And maybe it's his imagination, but a friendly breeze flutters against his face from the newly opened window like a smile.

-.-

The second Sunday he doesn't go to the corner he spends writing. He picks up his favorite pen and a sheet of paper from one of her notebooks and he can imagine her rolling her eyes with a smile on her face as she half-heartedly tells him to stop ripping pages out and just keep the damn notebook.

He writes down everything he wishes he could have said, everything he wants to say to her now. He gets it all out and he's crying by the end of it but a least he has the note. Maybe one day he'll be able to read it to her.

He gathers her things and puts them all into boxes. It's not much since most of it was shared, but the clothes and other small items he can find that were solely hers go into some boxes which are soon stacked at the back of the closet.

Surprisingly, it doesn't feel like she's left, there's enough lying around that reminds him of her presence, yet it feels a little less suffocating now that her things are moved away. He takes a breath.

"I'll never forget you," he says to the air. It's a reminder to himself as well. And he still cries later that night but he considers it progress.

-.-

The fifth or so Sunday he doesn't go to the corner he finally forces himself to go visit her. He brings her favorite flowers and his note and kneels beside the rock that says her name.

And he reads. He reads the note and tells her everything. His sadness, his guilt, his apologies, his love. He let's her know that he will live for her, that he will visit her again, that he will never stop loving her.

He leaves the cemetery with empty hands and a full heart.

You can't live your life regretting the past or those you have lost, you live in the present. And that's what he does.

He learns to cope and manage and keep living. He never learns to move one though, no one else captures his heart after her. But he learns to be okay, to be happy.

-.-

And maybe one day he walks to the corner, and maybe it happens to be a Sunday, and maybe for the first time in years he feels his heart lurch in a way it only did for her, and maybe he sees familiar blonde hair and startling grey eyes and maybe for the first time since that fated Sunday he feels pure happiness.

Maybe someday he sees her again.

A/N: So what did you think? Obviously the fic is focused on acceptance and the concept of moving on from a loss, that said if any of you are going through anything like this, my heart reaches out and I am deeply sorry for your loss. I hope this fic helps some and I know it's not easy but I hope you can understand that it will get better.

As for any questions about the end, I just thought I'd throw it in there, a little hint of meeting in an afterlife. I just thought it'd be a nice little thing to add on there!

Please Review! I really would love to hear your thoughts on this fic!

And as always, thanks for reading!

See ya! :)