Fic: City Fog
(Elle is snarky_blonde , used without permission, but with <3's; verse is Remember Me)
He walked away without any visible scars from the accident that killed her. It had been one of those classic scenarios where they had been fighting and then she was gone, before he could say he was sorry. Before he could tell her that he wanted the baby too. Before he could tell her he loved her.
A year later and Peter could recognizably see he wasn't the same man he used to be, and those scars that weren't visible to others, were gaping wounds to him. He'd gone back to work, fulfilled some sort of shell of his former life. He'd tried to move on--he was sure she'd want that--tried to have other relationships. Hell, he even had a drunken one night stand that he fully regretted. It all felt like sandpaper rubbing against his skin, not rose petals.
It wasn't just a painful break up; she had been ripped out of his life. Both of them had. It wasn't that he wasn't trying to move on either, it was just...so hard. She had been the one, and he knew it the whole time but only came to say it out loud after she was gone. Maybe five or ten years down the road and he'd be happier, but he was so miserable now.
It had started only a few weeks ago, that every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. It was a scene; not a memory, not anything tangible that he could look back on and tell what it meant other than the references to the accident. In a way, it was sort of funny. Peter didn't even own a car, he never drove, just that one time...
When he closed his eyes, he saw the road full of people. He came here every night looking for her, walking on broken glass. If he asked, the people around him ignored him, and just kept walking past him in a straight line. Some nights, more recently, he found her. She was the one walking on the glass with bare feet. But she was always out of reach, and he couldn't get to her in time. She disappeared into the fog at the end of the road, the same place all of the other people were going. Peter never got too close--it gaped at him like an open mouth.
He ran at her, pushing through the mechanical people, and he grabbed her shoulder to bring her to face him. "Elle!" he said with a smile of relief. But when he saw her face, his smile was wiped away, as blank as her white eyes staring through him. Peter looked at the other people pushing past him, and their eyes fixed on the white fog of the mouth of the city.
Her attention on him didn't last long--she tried to pull loose from his grasp, but Peter tightened his hand on her shoulders. "Elle.. it's me, Peter. Please Elle.. I can't lose you again," he pleaded. Losing her again would be as heartbreaking as it was the first time. The same as it was every night.
She blinked at him, unrecognizing, and she pulled away from his grip faster than he could reach for her again. The people kept him from touching her again. She was consumed by the fog with Peter still reaching through the crowd desperately to hold on one last time. "Elle!"
Peter woke with his hand in the air, grasping at nothingness. The place next to him on the bed was still cold and empty. As he sat up and rubbed his face, he glanced out the window. There was a thick fog today.
He walked away without any visible scars from the accident that killed her. It had been one of those classic scenarios where they had been fighting and then she was gone, before he could say he was sorry. Before he could tell her that he wanted the baby too. Before he could tell her he loved her.
A year later and Peter could recognizably see he wasn't the same man he used to be, and those scars that weren't visible to others, were gaping wounds to him. He'd gone back to work, fulfilled some sort of shell of his former life. He'd tried to move on--he was sure she'd want that--tried to have other relationships. Hell, he even had a drunken one night stand that he fully regretted. It all felt like sandpaper rubbing against his skin, not rose petals.
It wasn't just a painful break up; she had been ripped out of his life. Both of them had. It wasn't that he wasn't trying to move on either, it was just...so hard. She had been the one, and he knew it the whole time but only came to say it out loud after she was gone. Maybe five or ten years down the road and he'd be happier, but he was so miserable now.
It had started only a few weeks ago, that every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. It was a scene; not a memory, not anything tangible that he could look back on and tell what it meant other than the references to the accident. In a way, it was sort of funny. Peter didn't even own a car, he never drove, just that one time...
When he closed his eyes, he saw the road full of people. He came here every night looking for her, walking on broken glass. If he asked, the people around him ignored him, and just kept walking past him in a straight line. Some nights, more recently, he found her. She was the one walking on the glass with bare feet. But she was always out of reach, and he couldn't get to her in time. She disappeared into the fog at the end of the road, the same place all of the other people were going. Peter never got too close--it gaped at him like an open mouth.
He ran at her, pushing through the mechanical people, and he grabbed her shoulder to bring her to face him. "Elle!" he said with a smile of relief. But when he saw her face, his smile was wiped away, as blank as her white eyes staring through him. Peter looked at the other people pushing past him, and their eyes fixed on the white fog of the mouth of the city.
Her attention on him didn't last long--she tried to pull loose from his grasp, but Peter tightened his hand on her shoulders. "Elle.. it's me, Peter. Please Elle.. I can't lose you again," he pleaded. Losing her again would be as heartbreaking as it was the first time. The same as it was every night.
She blinked at him, unrecognizing, and she pulled away from his grip faster than he could reach for her again. The people kept him from touching her again. She was consumed by the fog with Peter still reaching through the crowd desperately to hold on one last time. "Elle!"
Peter woke with his hand in the air, grasping at nothingness. The place next to him on the bed was still cold and empty. As he sat up and rubbed his face, he glanced out the window. There was a thick fog today.