QLFC Season 10 Round 5: I'll be waiting
Main prompt genre: Hurt/Comfort
Main prompt family: Diggory
Additional prompts:
1. [Creature] ant/ants
2. [Song] 'Arcade' by Duncan Lawrence
3. [Quote] You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose.' – Dr Seuss
Word: ~1970 words
Warning: Character death.
A/N: Checked with mods that comfort does not need to be successful. Muggles au.
Amos Diggory sat under the willow tree watching the steady trail of ants crawling across the bench top. They were one of the smallest things in the world, yet one of the mightiest. He wondered if they were designed to simply be diligent and resilient, or were they aware of their tiny size and their self-preservation instincts demanded a certain level of determination and unity for them to prevail as a species.
He sighed softly. He was much bigger than them, he still had a brain and a heart - he could do so much more than sitting alone under the tree. He should feel ashamed that something tinier than him was doing much more than him.
He still had a lot to learn and discover about the ants. Perhaps, he would take a few of them to her. After all, she was studying them for a much longer time than him. She would know more. With a few captured in a jar, he stood up to face the setting sun and orange sky. Yes, now was the perfect time to make his way to her - just when the temperature was cooling and before the evening rush hour.
He walked the same route to her in silence. He entered a small, hole-in-the-wall flower shop. He looked at the florist who smiled warmly at him, "You're on time, Mr Diggory. I've prepared the flowers for you."
He nodded mutely. He dropped exactly three silver coins, picked the bouquet and turned to exit.
"I hope Mrs Diggory is feeling better today!"
He walked on in silence. His ears barely heard a thing - not a chatter, not even the ghostly whisper of the evening breeze. His eyes barely saw a thing - not the unique features of the people passing by him, not even the buildings that lined on both his sides. He could only feel the feathery caresses of the breeze as it brushed past him. He continued moving as if he was on autopilot until he reached the white building.
He entered it, and moved through the corridors easily. He had been here so many times that he did not need to ask for directions or pause at the directional signs to wonder about his way. He passed by the nurses and doctors, who whispered behind his back with the most pitiful faces, and the other patients and their visitors who smiled helpfully and awkwardly. He did not care as long as he reached the room. Her room.
He slid open the door, stepped in and gently slid it close. The dark room was barely illuminated by the soft orange glow of the bedside lamp. "Hello Darling, I'm here again," he greeted softly as he swallowed thickly and wiped his eyes and crossed the room towards the patient's bedside. He walked carefully, mindful of the wires and the beeping machines. He threw away yesterday's lilies and replaced them with the fresh lilies.
He turned to kiss her forehead lightly, caressed her cheek tenderly with the back of his fingers. "I just kissed you. Can you feel me?" he asked softly as he sank into the bedside chair.
It was just a matter of time. It was just a few days…no, it had been months. She was fine. She was awake and well. She had smiled at him and kissed him, she had packed his lunch. She had wished him a good day as he left home to hide in his office. He left for work before the sun rose, and he returned only after the sunset.
"I came from work, Darling," he admitted softly and guiltily. Perhaps, he should have quitted his job so he could live here. By her side. He would send his resignation letter tomorrow…except that was what he had said on the last visit, and the many previous visits.
Everyday, he would come home to her laughter and smiles. She had been fine. She had laughed and talked endlessly about her new observation. She had been studying the ants since Cedric's death. It was a hobby she had picked up and she admired their quiet resilience and might. One of the smallest insects, yet so mighty. He should have known she would find admiration for something so similar to her - she was a petite, passionate woman with a personality larger than life.
"I want to tell you that I still love you. Can you hear me?" he asked softly as he held her hand in his.
She had been the constant in his life. She had been his pillar of strength and his rock while he suffered Cedric's death… He should have known she was grieving underneath her smiles and laughter. He should have known her laughter was hollow and short. He should not have pretended she was fine. He should not have left her on her own. Cedric was her son too. Together, they were Cedric's parents. Together, they could reshape their future. Together, they could live with Cedric's death. Together, they could do anything. He needed her by his side if he were to rebuild his life.
"Darling, will you please come home to me? I can't live on without you," he begged as he rested his cheek to her palm.
Tonight, just as every other night, he visited his wife's bedside. He had wasted countless nights watching his wife living her life as an empty shell while he was living Hell. He did not know for sure if she was breathing or if it was just the machines that were giving her life and planting hopes that he could endear himself to her eyes and smile again. Maybe it did not really matter, because he would coax her to wake up. His love had to be strong enough. He kissed her softly, gently, earnestly.
"Won't you open your eyes, Darling?"
His back hurts and it ruins his sleep. The pain of missing her hammered on his heart, chipping it piece by piece. He could only think of her. He would not let her die. He had lost enough members from his little family, but more than that, he would rather they did not suffer. For that, in some parts, he was glad Cedric's death was swift. For one more day, he would hold her hands, be stubbornly hopeful and whisper, "I brought you a new company."
He twisted in the chair, and pulled out the jar of ants and placed it on the bedside table. "I've brought some ants. Do you want to see them?" he asked softly as he watched the ants crawling the walls of the glass jar.
Everyday, he brought a few new ants to her. She loved ants. She admired them. She called them her spirit animal. Ants were supposed to be resilient. They persevered regardless of the fate and fortune that befell them. To him, this was as good a time as any for her to summon the might of her spirit animal. He needed her to get better. He needed her to recover. He needed her to be stubborn and resilient. If she needed the ants to gather her spirit strength, he would fill the room with them. For her sake, he would bring the ants to remind her that life was still waiting for her. For her sake, he would continue to be staunchly determined and try his hardest at living. He would wait for her however long she needed. He would always be right here waiting.
"If you must leave tonight, may you never suffer again," he sniffed softly as he kissed her knuckles. She had grown thinner than yesterday. Her hospital gown was barely resting securely on her frame. He left a trail of kisses on her - wherever his hands touched, his lips followed. "I will always love you, darling."
Tonight, just like all the previous nights, was dull and lonely. It was another monologue night. She had not responded in any capacity to anything he had said or done. She had not even twitched. Perhaps, she was just as tired tonight as she was last night and all the nights before. Perhaps, tomorrow, she would finally have a good enough day to gather enough strength to twitch. He sighed softly and tucked her securely in her blanket. He kissed her a final time and bade her farewell, "I'll see you tomorrow." He was almost out of the room just as the nurses came in.
"I'll be waiting, Honey."
He froze. The nurses froze. He turned, and sprinted to the bed. Her eyes were closed. Her lips a faint smile. That was the only indication that the ghostly whisper was not a figment of his imagination. He ignored the different sound from the machines because who cared? This was proof that she was alive! She did not need the machines to give her life!
"Darling, I promise I'll be here tomorrow!" he promised excitedly. His hand caressed her face. His tears wet her cheeks. Tomorrow could not come sooner, but for now, he would let her rest. He left her side.
The nurses stopped him at the exit. "She is gone, Mr Diggory."
That night, the machines dulled and the nurses removed the tubes and machines from her. Under the night rain, they held her funeral, and only the closest relatives and friends, and her nurses and doctors were in attendance. He was there from the first guest until hours after the last guest had left. Throughout the funeral, he could not feel his lungs or his heart beating. It was as if the world died around him.
"Beyond this suffering, I hope you find your way to Cedric," he whispered to her tombstone as he sank into the mud to trace her engraved name.
Somewhere in the darkness, under the torrential downpour, he swore he heard a wailing roar. It was a heartbreaking thunderous cry that seemed to reverberate through him. Perhaps, someone or something was crying on his behalf because how could he still cry? Losing his precious family, and suffering his grievances had become his normal. He had gotten used to losing it all.
Loving had always been a losing game, and he should have realised it when Cedric died. He was the loser for loving Cedric - where was he when his son died? Far away, beyond reach. Maybe he could have been forgiven for that but his wife? Holding onto her and hoping like a fool, he was just a glutton for punishment. What good did loving her do for him? It only punished him by shattering his heart to pieces, and snuffing all flickering embers of lust for living in him. Loving them was truly just a losing game, and he was the biggest loser.
It was just a pity that he could only suffer for his choices and heart, so he was thankful that someone out there was crying on his behalf.
Since her funeral, Amos spent his every waking hour just sitting on the rocking chair and gazing aimlessly at the backyard. "You gave me the best memories, but you're the most beautiful memory," he murmured dazed.
Somewhere in the unruly garden infested with ants and pests, somewhere under the hard ground, his family rested peacefully without him. Maybe he should restart his clock and live again. After all, he is not missing limbs and he still has a well-functioning brain, but how does he move when his heart is buried somewhere beyond his reach? Somewhere denied to him. He cannot not live a life, he will not live a life. So, Amos waits another day on his own, just waiting for the moment he can finally join them.
"When it's my time, I'll find you. I'll see you again, Darling. I'll hold you again someday somehow."
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