FIC: Love; or How it Leaves
Title: Love; or How it Leaves
Author: Kerplankia
Pairing: spoilers! (Minerva/Wilhemina)
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: 19
Word Count: 958
Content Information/Warnings: Femslash
Summary: Love. It comes and goes. When it leaves, only broken hearts can follow.
Author's Notes: Different format than I am used to writing! It was a bit of an experiment. We will see how it goes. Thanks RL beta M!
Falling out of love starts like falling into it. You begin to notice small things about your lover that you never noticed before, and in these things you find meaning.
One day you notice her playing with her ring while you are in middle of telling her a story. Now you wonder if she always fidgets when you talk.
Or.
She offers you the substitute position, saying with a smile that you are the best for the job. You accept happily, as even though you like the kind half-giant, you find issues with his teaching approach. Hours later, you cannot help but remember that smile. Was it a joke? Did she only give you the job because you are her partner (she knows you need the money)? Now, you begin to analyze all of her moves. Is she judging you?
But then it progresses until one day you wake up and you realize that you no longer love them. The things you used to love about them become the things you hate.
Once upon a time you loved that she snored softly in her sleep, thinking that you were the only one who ever saw her like this. Now some nights you want to gently, softly cover her face with the quilt she made you, pushing down until she no longer makes that wheeze....sigh...sniff
Or.
You met when you were in your thirties at a party hosted by Amelia Bones. You saw her standing alone in the foyer, her hair pulled into a prim, tight bun. You itched to undo it, to slide your fingers through her mass of hair. Fifty years later, you hate the long strands of iron gray that are spread through out your home. The cat hair is even worse. Thoughts of shaving her while she sleeps flit through your mind, but you cannot bring yourself to do it.
The routines that used to rule your daily life, the things you depended on, suddenly are meaningless.
She cannot cook. Both of you have laughed and laughed over her many attempts, but when she again burns the toast, over-salts the eggs, and serves cold tea, you cannot laugh with her. Her smile slides off her face as she see the grim look on yours.
It’s hard to explain to explain to others the how, of how you fell out of love.
Its easy to see the Amelia is angry. She is your best friend, your confidante, and so you have to tell her that after 50 years, you are no longer in love. Amelia introduced you to Minerva in the first place, all those long years ago. And here she is now, furious with you, blaming you for this mess. For wanting to leave. Amelia cannot even look at you, and you can tell that she no longer things of you in the same way. Your heart breaks, the silent sound echoing loudly within, when you realize that this is how most of your closest friends will react. You have never felt so alone.
When you finally accept that you no longer love them, and probably never will again, it is not easy to live with your partner. Guilt seeps into your every touch, until you are positive that your ex-lover can see the stains they leave.
Early mornings are the hardest. It’s the moment when the peacefulness of sleep disappears; when your aging joints protest the stretch you force them to do. The moment when you remember that you are not alone. You are undone when the sleepy face turns towards you and smiles--where in each wrinkle there is a love note that you can no longer read--- as it is the moment you realize that you can never smile back.
Or
Late at night, she reaches for you, to cup your breast in her fragile hand. The long, thin fingers that once made you beg and plead, now are only frustrated to find dryness in what once was as wet as the sea. So you close your eyes and pretend. You try to remember how she used to make you feel, the hundreds, no, thousands of nights over the last fifty years. When remembering does not work---you begin to feel sick, disgusted with yourself---you imagine that she is somebody else, anybody else. Finally, you hear her give a satisfied purr as your imagination succeeds where memory did not.
And so you try to leave. Try to let them know that it's you, not them. That they did not do anything, could not have done anything different.
She does not cry. You did not think she would, but then again you did not imagine that her face could go so cold. Her laughing eyes are blank. They are empty holes to a soul that has shattered. You, gruff and uncomfortable with lady like behaviors, wish that she could display some sort of hysterics. Instead, she turns away, her spine stiff with anger.
She tells you go. You do, apologizing all of the way out of the door---pleaseforgivemeMinerva!Ineverwantedthistohappen.---but she stays with her back to you. You apparate away in tears. Half a century gone. You thought that you would feel free, but instead all you can feel are the chains of memory dragging you back. But here you are, in front of the hotel that will now be your home (a house, not a home).
And so it ends. You are alone because one day you woke up and realized that the love of your life was no longer that. Love is finicky. It comes when you least expect it, and leaves when you least want it to. In this, muggles and wizards are alike. Even magic cannot hold onto that feeling called love.
Author: Kerplankia
Pairing: spoilers! (Minerva/Wilhemina)
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: 19
Word Count: 958
Content Information/Warnings: Femslash
Summary: Love. It comes and goes. When it leaves, only broken hearts can follow.
Author's Notes: Different format than I am used to writing! It was a bit of an experiment. We will see how it goes. Thanks RL beta M!
Falling out of love starts like falling into it. You begin to notice small things about your lover that you never noticed before, and in these things you find meaning.
One day you notice her playing with her ring while you are in middle of telling her a story. Now you wonder if she always fidgets when you talk.
Or.
She offers you the substitute position, saying with a smile that you are the best for the job. You accept happily, as even though you like the kind half-giant, you find issues with his teaching approach. Hours later, you cannot help but remember that smile. Was it a joke? Did she only give you the job because you are her partner (she knows you need the money)? Now, you begin to analyze all of her moves. Is she judging you?
But then it progresses until one day you wake up and you realize that you no longer love them. The things you used to love about them become the things you hate.
Once upon a time you loved that she snored softly in her sleep, thinking that you were the only one who ever saw her like this. Now some nights you want to gently, softly cover her face with the quilt she made you, pushing down until she no longer makes that wheeze....sigh...sniff
Or.
You met when you were in your thirties at a party hosted by Amelia Bones. You saw her standing alone in the foyer, her hair pulled into a prim, tight bun. You itched to undo it, to slide your fingers through her mass of hair. Fifty years later, you hate the long strands of iron gray that are spread through out your home. The cat hair is even worse. Thoughts of shaving her while she sleeps flit through your mind, but you cannot bring yourself to do it.
The routines that used to rule your daily life, the things you depended on, suddenly are meaningless.
She cannot cook. Both of you have laughed and laughed over her many attempts, but when she again burns the toast, over-salts the eggs, and serves cold tea, you cannot laugh with her. Her smile slides off her face as she see the grim look on yours.
It’s hard to explain to explain to others the how, of how you fell out of love.
Its easy to see the Amelia is angry. She is your best friend, your confidante, and so you have to tell her that after 50 years, you are no longer in love. Amelia introduced you to Minerva in the first place, all those long years ago. And here she is now, furious with you, blaming you for this mess. For wanting to leave. Amelia cannot even look at you, and you can tell that she no longer things of you in the same way. Your heart breaks, the silent sound echoing loudly within, when you realize that this is how most of your closest friends will react. You have never felt so alone.
When you finally accept that you no longer love them, and probably never will again, it is not easy to live with your partner. Guilt seeps into your every touch, until you are positive that your ex-lover can see the stains they leave.
Early mornings are the hardest. It’s the moment when the peacefulness of sleep disappears; when your aging joints protest the stretch you force them to do. The moment when you remember that you are not alone. You are undone when the sleepy face turns towards you and smiles--where in each wrinkle there is a love note that you can no longer read--- as it is the moment you realize that you can never smile back.
Or
Late at night, she reaches for you, to cup your breast in her fragile hand. The long, thin fingers that once made you beg and plead, now are only frustrated to find dryness in what once was as wet as the sea. So you close your eyes and pretend. You try to remember how she used to make you feel, the hundreds, no, thousands of nights over the last fifty years. When remembering does not work---you begin to feel sick, disgusted with yourself---you imagine that she is somebody else, anybody else. Finally, you hear her give a satisfied purr as your imagination succeeds where memory did not.
And so you try to leave. Try to let them know that it's you, not them. That they did not do anything, could not have done anything different.
She does not cry. You did not think she would, but then again you did not imagine that her face could go so cold. Her laughing eyes are blank. They are empty holes to a soul that has shattered. You, gruff and uncomfortable with lady like behaviors, wish that she could display some sort of hysterics. Instead, she turns away, her spine stiff with anger.
She tells you go. You do, apologizing all of the way out of the door---pleaseforgivemeMinerva!Ineverwantedthistohappen.---but she stays with her back to you. You apparate away in tears. Half a century gone. You thought that you would feel free, but instead all you can feel are the chains of memory dragging you back. But here you are, in front of the hotel that will now be your home (a house, not a home).
And so it ends. You are alone because one day you woke up and realized that the love of your life was no longer that. Love is finicky. It comes when you least expect it, and leaves when you least want it to. In this, muggles and wizards are alike. Even magic cannot hold onto that feeling called love.