Finally Over You
Very short One shot ficlet. MiSa, sort of. A bit depressing, angsty. Unfortunately it is the way I intended it to be. I’m in that sort of mood right now, lol. I hope you enjoy it, I would love to hear (Or read :P) What you guys think. Thanks for reading. :)
Finally Over You
It took him four years to say those four words.
I’m finally over you.
He thought hardening himself to the world would ease his pain. It didn’t. He thought the revenge would ease his pain. It didn’t. He thought killing Susan would help. It didn’t; he couldn’t go through with it. He couldn’t be that guy. And that killed him. He couldn’t even kill the woman that murdered his Sara, the love of his life, the woman he would have willing given his life for.
He tried forgetting her, blocking her out. Blocking out the way she made him feel, the way he felt for her. He tried to pretend his feelings for her didn’t still live on in him. Most days it worked. Days that is. At night time, it was a whole other story. He couldn’t block her out, especially during those unconscious hours. He felt guilt for shutting her out, for putting up that facade.
On those nights, he would cry, and silently apologise to her, whether she could hear him or not. And some nights, he would go see her. And explain himself to her.
Sitting there on the cold, soft dewy green. Hands splayed on the fallen leaves. Back against the cement stone. I’m sorry Sara.
One time. One time only. He dated. Lincoln persuaded him. LJ set it up. Everyone said it was what he needed. He knew it wasn’t. But he did it anyway. Maybe he was wrong.
He wasn’t.
He was vacant. The conversation was pleasant, the woman was lovely. It’s just, he, himself wasn’t there. He was there physically in person, but emotionally, mentally, he was somewhere else. God, he wished he was somewhere else.
He wished it was him in that grave. Instead of her. He would give anything for that.
He would give anything to have her here with him. To hold her. To tell her how much she means to him. Always will. To kiss her.
The tears ran freely.
Four years on - three years in which he spent engrossed in work, constantly - he’s seeing someone. He was to propose to her tonight. It took much encouragement from Lincoln to decide on this. But he felt deeply for her.
He didn’t want to be alone.
Standing at the altar, he says those two words which give himself to her. A tear trickles down his face.
It may seem he’s giving himself to her. But, he’s already given himself to someone else, and he’s never had the chance to get himself back.
Four years on, everyone thinks he’s over it. He’s not.
He’s just brilliant at pretending now.
It took him four years to say those four words.
But that didn’t mean he meant them.
Finally Over You
It took him four years to say those four words.
I’m finally over you.
He thought hardening himself to the world would ease his pain. It didn’t. He thought the revenge would ease his pain. It didn’t. He thought killing Susan would help. It didn’t; he couldn’t go through with it. He couldn’t be that guy. And that killed him. He couldn’t even kill the woman that murdered his Sara, the love of his life, the woman he would have willing given his life for.
He tried forgetting her, blocking her out. Blocking out the way she made him feel, the way he felt for her. He tried to pretend his feelings for her didn’t still live on in him. Most days it worked. Days that is. At night time, it was a whole other story. He couldn’t block her out, especially during those unconscious hours. He felt guilt for shutting her out, for putting up that facade.
On those nights, he would cry, and silently apologise to her, whether she could hear him or not. And some nights, he would go see her. And explain himself to her.
Sitting there on the cold, soft dewy green. Hands splayed on the fallen leaves. Back against the cement stone. I’m sorry Sara.
One time. One time only. He dated. Lincoln persuaded him. LJ set it up. Everyone said it was what he needed. He knew it wasn’t. But he did it anyway. Maybe he was wrong.
He wasn’t.
He was vacant. The conversation was pleasant, the woman was lovely. It’s just, he, himself wasn’t there. He was there physically in person, but emotionally, mentally, he was somewhere else. God, he wished he was somewhere else.
He wished it was him in that grave. Instead of her. He would give anything for that.
He would give anything to have her here with him. To hold her. To tell her how much she means to him. Always will. To kiss her.
The tears ran freely.
Four years on - three years in which he spent engrossed in work, constantly - he’s seeing someone. He was to propose to her tonight. It took much encouragement from Lincoln to decide on this. But he felt deeply for her.
He didn’t want to be alone.
Standing at the altar, he says those two words which give himself to her. A tear trickles down his face.
It may seem he’s giving himself to her. But, he’s already given himself to someone else, and he’s never had the chance to get himself back.
Four years on, everyone thinks he’s over it. He’s not.
He’s just brilliant at pretending now.
It took him four years to say those four words.
But that didn’t mean he meant them.