Author's note: Look! It's an unbroken promise! Don't we love ourselves some Stalia angst? Yes, we do.
Thanks to everyone who's reading and reviewing, etc, etc, you are awesome and I love you. (for real, I mean it.)
And now for the chapter.
SIXTEEN
"When you're dreaming with a broken heart, the giving up is the hardest part.
She takes you in with her crying eyes, then all at once you have to say goodbye.
Wondering 'Could you stay, my love? Will you wake up by my side?'
No, she can't. Cause she's gone."
John Mayer
The night before the PSATs was rainy, but his bed was warm. She was with him. Her arms wrapped him in a fond embrace and she was comfortable. He felt safe and loved and his heart always skipped a beat when she kissed his shoulder. The world seemed like a better place when she was around.
And…
To feel the barrel of the gun in his temple, cold and steady, the counting down to two and I'm saving her, somehow. I'm saving her. I'm sorry.
But…
When she nearly died and it was almost over and in his heart – he was alive! He had the answer! -, on the other side of the wall that separated him from his friends and from her, he felt lost. He thought he was losing everything once again. He thought he would never get the chance to give her truth and love and care and safety.
So…
The door opened and they were alive. Thank God, they were all alive and he had come back, like he said he would and Malia…
Malia…
Left…
Without him…
And then…
Then…
That night, when he was supposed to sleep and rest, he couldn't. Because the window was open and his bed was cold and he was alone. It was his fault. And all he could do was wait and hope and dial her number over and over and over. I'm sorry. Please, forgive me, I'm sorry. I can't handle it. He couldn't handle it.
Without her.
A/N: Oh, wow, how rude! I know, I know. But can you please review? I see you guys soon! x