I dream of his death often in those early weeks. He is gone, and all things swift and bright and beautiful have gone with him. He is gone, and my chest feels hollow, as though his phantom has reached inside it, pulled out my still-beating heart, and crushed it into dust. That is alright, I think. I do not intend to live when he is gone.
Rated: T - English - Angst/Hurt/Comfort - Chapters: 1 - Words: 1,485 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 9 - Follows: 1 - Published: 7/9/2016 - Complete