It's a fantasy, thinking things would be the same but different. It takes some hard reflection to realize that it would have all been different and the niceties that he dreamt up we're lies he told to comfort him. they would never have been together. his life would never have been his. his choices would have been hollow lies made between him and his father's pick. no, they would ha e never been together.
Silence will drive you mad. there is so rarely the absence of all sound. the usual whirl of air thought a duct, a motor spinning behind the frozen shelves of the freezer. sounds of feet shuffling, a cat breathing, saliva being pushed by muscles down the esophagus. Silence without all that can be maddening.
Heavy ropes. Or, heavy clothes like when they're wadded up and tangled. Or the strap from a bag? Or, or, or… Guesses made in a sleeping mind that can't quite will her eyes to open. Then the heaviness moves and slides and grips under her stomach – fingers pressed between flesh and sheets and another strong arm cooking up across her from under her neck. She's three short breaths from thrashing when she feels his face against her neck and hears her mumbled name. She may mumble back or she lies quiet and thinks she did just under the edge of sleep.
Disappointment. Regret. Remorse. That feeling of missing out that has no name even though it's so universal. He felt them all. She was like a museum piece. An artifact tucked away behind a barrier. No reminder of 'soon' or 'almost' or 'just' was enough in his weak moments to stave off desperation, to have him clamoring for memories and for future plans.
Love. Pain. Confusion and awkwardness that had never been there before. A distinct want to reclaim the remembered sentiments of the past without recalling what dreams had polished away. The vibrant fantasy clashing disruptive and disquieting with a reality too raw and rough to bring peace.
Soon, guys... soon...