It's Better to Have Love and Lost
[Title] It's Better to Have Love and Lost
[Fandom] Skyland
[Pairing] Mila x Cortes, mentions of Cortes x Cheng's mom and Mila x Marcus
[Rating] PG
[Genre] Angst, romance
[Word Count] 778
[Summary] Mila tries to get over the death of a second lover, the captain of the St. Nazaire, Aran Cortes.
[Author's Note] This fic is slightly AU. It still takes place in the same world, but if Mila and Cortes had fallen in love, and then Cortes had died. I don't feel like it's my best piece of work, but given when it was written and why, I feel pretty happy with it :)
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They always say it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, but surely we weren’t meant to hurt this much in life, right? Who could be so cruel as to believe that a heart should ache so horribly? Maybe I should find the person who said that and sit them down, explain to them the agony, the heart-wrenching pain inflicted when the one person in life you love the most…. leaves. Leaves an empty, gaping hole in your life.
You weren’t the first to leave me - that would have been my husband - but your loss has been harder than I ever thought it would be. You see, when I was married to him, I always knew there was a threat lurking around every corner, prying eyes trying to find us, trying to lure us out of our safety to capture us, destroy us, kill us. Especially me, the traitor.
I remember how we clung to each other when he was still around, holding tightly to each other as though any loss of contact would make the other disappear. He always held my hand when we walked, always rested his hand on my lower back when we sat together watching the sunset, always touched my foot with his under the table. I remember how he would hold me when we slept at night, one arm around my waist, the other around my shoulders, ankles intertwined with mine, his chin against my forehead. Tightly, he held me, firmly yet gently. I used to fall asleep to the sound of his breathing, and I would smile, knowing he loved me, knowing that even if something were to happen to either one of us, we at least had that moment to ourselves, we had that moment to be together, happy and in love.
I’m not making you jealous, am I?
When he died, it hurt more than I thought I could stand. Every time my heart beat, it felt like a pulsing knife wound - pain, constant pain, dulling over time but always, always there, eventually scarring, but always beating with a nostalgic ache. Sometimes, I think that I would have given up anything just to not feel that horrible ache. Sometimes, I even convince myself I would have given up his love if I just didn’t have to hurt anymore.
When I met you, you made the scar hurt less, made me forget the pain I’d been feeling for so many years, and I even managed to smile again. A true smile of a woman in love again. Not that I would have told you that at first, but…I think you deserve to know now. You made me feel those emotions I’d long since tried to hide, and you could never know how grateful I am to you for that.
Of course, things with us were different. We didn’t hold hands often, and certainly not in public, we didn’t touch our feet under the table or anything of the sort - after all, we weren’t teenagers, and we didn’t have the flirtatious nervousness of it being either of our first loves. But there were the nights when we would lie awake for hours, your hand running through my hair, one arm protectively around my waist, and eventually I would fall asleep to the sound of your breathing. It caused that nostalgic ache in my heart again, but this time I didn’t mind.
I could never have anticipated losing you, though. All the threats that had worried me before were gone, we were better protected, things were different. Did you know they wouldn’t let me see you until the funeral? And did you know that the last time I saw you, you looked as beautiful as you did when you were alive? It looked like you were sleeping, and a small touch would wake you. All that was missing was the rhythmic breathing that was as soothing to me as a lullaby to a child. The news of you reopened that scar on my heart, and now it hurts like it hasn’t in years.
It wasn’t until I lost you that I finally realized the meaning of that expression. I don’t think I would give up what we had, even if it meant I didn’t have to feel like this anymore.
You know, they dressed you in that uniform you liked so much. And they put her necklace in your hand. You can go be with her again. Wait until she sees you in your suit. She’ll fall in love with you all over again. It’s silly, but I’m jealous of her. You can tell her that, alright?
[Fandom] Skyland
[Pairing] Mila x Cortes, mentions of Cortes x Cheng's mom and Mila x Marcus
[Rating] PG
[Genre] Angst, romance
[Word Count] 778
[Summary] Mila tries to get over the death of a second lover, the captain of the St. Nazaire, Aran Cortes.
[Author's Note] This fic is slightly AU. It still takes place in the same world, but if Mila and Cortes had fallen in love, and then Cortes had died. I don't feel like it's my best piece of work, but given when it was written and why, I feel pretty happy with it :)
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They always say it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, but surely we weren’t meant to hurt this much in life, right? Who could be so cruel as to believe that a heart should ache so horribly? Maybe I should find the person who said that and sit them down, explain to them the agony, the heart-wrenching pain inflicted when the one person in life you love the most…. leaves. Leaves an empty, gaping hole in your life.
You weren’t the first to leave me - that would have been my husband - but your loss has been harder than I ever thought it would be. You see, when I was married to him, I always knew there was a threat lurking around every corner, prying eyes trying to find us, trying to lure us out of our safety to capture us, destroy us, kill us. Especially me, the traitor.
I remember how we clung to each other when he was still around, holding tightly to each other as though any loss of contact would make the other disappear. He always held my hand when we walked, always rested his hand on my lower back when we sat together watching the sunset, always touched my foot with his under the table. I remember how he would hold me when we slept at night, one arm around my waist, the other around my shoulders, ankles intertwined with mine, his chin against my forehead. Tightly, he held me, firmly yet gently. I used to fall asleep to the sound of his breathing, and I would smile, knowing he loved me, knowing that even if something were to happen to either one of us, we at least had that moment to ourselves, we had that moment to be together, happy and in love.
I’m not making you jealous, am I?
When he died, it hurt more than I thought I could stand. Every time my heart beat, it felt like a pulsing knife wound - pain, constant pain, dulling over time but always, always there, eventually scarring, but always beating with a nostalgic ache. Sometimes, I think that I would have given up anything just to not feel that horrible ache. Sometimes, I even convince myself I would have given up his love if I just didn’t have to hurt anymore.
When I met you, you made the scar hurt less, made me forget the pain I’d been feeling for so many years, and I even managed to smile again. A true smile of a woman in love again. Not that I would have told you that at first, but…I think you deserve to know now. You made me feel those emotions I’d long since tried to hide, and you could never know how grateful I am to you for that.
Of course, things with us were different. We didn’t hold hands often, and certainly not in public, we didn’t touch our feet under the table or anything of the sort - after all, we weren’t teenagers, and we didn’t have the flirtatious nervousness of it being either of our first loves. But there were the nights when we would lie awake for hours, your hand running through my hair, one arm protectively around my waist, and eventually I would fall asleep to the sound of your breathing. It caused that nostalgic ache in my heart again, but this time I didn’t mind.
I could never have anticipated losing you, though. All the threats that had worried me before were gone, we were better protected, things were different. Did you know they wouldn’t let me see you until the funeral? And did you know that the last time I saw you, you looked as beautiful as you did when you were alive? It looked like you were sleeping, and a small touch would wake you. All that was missing was the rhythmic breathing that was as soothing to me as a lullaby to a child. The news of you reopened that scar on my heart, and now it hurts like it hasn’t in years.
It wasn’t until I lost you that I finally realized the meaning of that expression. I don’t think I would give up what we had, even if it meant I didn’t have to feel like this anymore.
You know, they dressed you in that uniform you liked so much. And they put her necklace in your hand. You can go be with her again. Wait until she sees you in your suit. She’ll fall in love with you all over again. It’s silly, but I’m jealous of her. You can tell her that, alright?