Romancing the Pain - Part 2
Title: Romancing the Pain
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Pepa/Silvia
Summary: Post episode 104 as well as my last fic, Come Back to Me. It’s basically its sequel; the events that occur after Silvia was released from the hospital.
A/N: Special shout out to mueroporbesarte for figuring out where our pelirroja went. *hands over a big cookie and kiss* Kudos! Here's the next part. Hope y'all enjoy it.
ROMANCING THE PAIN - Part 2
Silvia stood over Montoya’s grave diligently, a perfect imitation of a statue save for locks of wavy red hair that caressed her cheeks whenever the wind playful ruffled them. Her head was bowed low, so low that her chin almost touched her chest. The redhead wore a pair of black sunglasses, an unconscious measure to hide from the world. However, behind the glasses there lay a world of grief. Of sorrow and anguish. Behind the glasses, Silvia’s eyes reflected all the feelings of her broken soul. Despair swirled behind those brown eyes, churning and twisting into itself. Guilt bordered itself around despair, darkening the irises with speckles of black. And grief. Grief darted between the two, causing havoc and upsetting the balance and colors of Silvia’s turbulent eyes. Eyes that was bloodshot but otherwise dry.
Silvia had run out of tears. She couldn’t have cried even if she wanted to. She had no tears left and it rendered her soul to a shriveled memory, lying defeated and distorted on the bruised and battered floor of her aching heart.
The redhead had taken to spending her days at the cemetery, either visiting Montoya, Kike or Nelson’s grave. Sometimes she would visit all three should her conscious demand that it needed to a fresh paint of guilt to remind her that her friends were dead and gone because of her. Because she had been selfish. Because she had wanted one happy day. One happy day with the person that made her life complete. And she had wanted to share that with her family and friends. No. No, she wanted to rub it in their faces that she had this happy day and that they did not know what they were missing. Silvia’s over-analytical mind had come to the conclusion that her wedding day was nothing more than a farce, a way to smugly show her family and friends that she had something they did not.
Well she had learned her lesson. She had been wrong to do that. She now welcomed her punishment with open arms. She hoped her dead friends were happy because Silvia was drowning in overpowering guilt that threatened to swallow her very existence. It crashed over her, burying her heart and soul under waves of pain that reverberated to the marrow of her bones. And Silvia accepted this cruelty, accepted all the consequences her actions had caused. Because she had brought it onto herself.
The redhead stared down at Montoya’s grave. Gonzalo Montoya. The father of her unborn child. Her eyes flicked up to the tombstone and traced the letters engraved upon it, etching each word into her mind even as she remained eerily calm. Montoya. How unfair she had been to him when they were together. How she never gave him even half of what he wanted to give her. Was too willing to give her. Her throat tickled in warning of a sob to come but she suppressed it, pushing it deep down into the layers of guilt. She would not allow herself the luxury of a release from her pain.
The dying sun beat down upon Silvia’s shoulders, worming its rays through the thin fabric of her shirt only to touch down upon and scorch the redhead’s pale skin, a one last attempt to disturb the smaller woman before dusk fell. Silvia acknowledged this shift and finally glanced up. She saw in the horizon, a haze of orange bleeding outwards from the burning ball of fire, leaking into clouds that burst into brilliant shades of red and yellow, its outer edges tinged with a rosy pink. It reminded Silvia of her and Pepa’s own sunset mirage painted on their bedroom wall. She drew in a shuddering breath as that memory brought forth a fresh coating of remorse.
Silvia sighed and reached up to push the sunglasses onto her head, sending tendrils of unruly red hair to pile up unceremoniously around it. She spared one more glance at the headstone before leaning down to bestow a soft, apologetic kiss onto the cold granite.
“Lo siento.”
The whispered words laced with so much regret and torment, were lost immediately as they floated from Silvia’s lips only to evaporate into the atmosphere. The redhead drew back; her movements graceful yet agonized, as if the simple movement was just a step too much. And it was. Silvia turned and walked back slowly to the direction of her car, her boots crunching along the ground; the only sounds in the otherwise unoccupied and undisturbed cemetery. A part of her would have stayed throughout the night, would have never moved from the graves. It was a testament of just how much her guilty conscience affected her. Nevertheless, she had another obligation. Pepa. Her wife. Silvia couldn’t even call Pepa that in her head anymore without the title being accompanied with sadness.
Silvia arrived at her car, sliding the key into the lock. She opened the door, folded herself into the driver’s seat and sat, one hand poised over the still open door. She stared out at the landscape that was the cemetery, soaking in its tragic magnificent beauty. Then she pulled the door close and started the engine. It was time to go home to her wife.