he doesn't live here anymore
Prompt: 327. I miss who you were
Characters: AU Iris and Sam
Requested By: Cede
It would break her heart, if she still had a heart to break, to see him like this. Every night, a different bar, a different bed, sad and alone and broken. She would understand why, of course; he had lost so much that day, how could anyone possibly go on? His family had been decimated, his mission ended in failure. What else was there for him but the bottom of a bottle and the fleeting comfort of another warm body?
If she was able to stand in the shadows, watching from some distant corner of the room, she would nod in understanding. After all, she would have probably done the same had their positions been reversed. Still, it wouldn't have stopped her from wishing for things to get better for him. When she had known him, he wasn't a burned out shell at far too young an age. He had been vibrant, sure of himself, with a good heart buried deep below the tough exterior of a soldier. It was why she had liked him so much.
It was why she had loved him.
But that was a different time, one that seemed too long ago and yet still so fresh, all at once. It was then, and not now. Now was dark and lonesome and filled with what she would do, not what she could do. Because the cold truth was that she couldn't do anything, not anymore. And that was part of the problem, wasn't it? Otherwise she would sit beside him in the dark, unseen and unknown but for the touch of her hand upon his arm, the lingering trace of a kiss upon his forehead, the whisper in his ear, as he slept fitfully beneath threadbare sheets.
My dearest Samuel, how I miss you. Please, come back to me.
If only he could.
Characters: AU Iris and Sam
Requested By: Cede
It would break her heart, if she still had a heart to break, to see him like this. Every night, a different bar, a different bed, sad and alone and broken. She would understand why, of course; he had lost so much that day, how could anyone possibly go on? His family had been decimated, his mission ended in failure. What else was there for him but the bottom of a bottle and the fleeting comfort of another warm body?
If she was able to stand in the shadows, watching from some distant corner of the room, she would nod in understanding. After all, she would have probably done the same had their positions been reversed. Still, it wouldn't have stopped her from wishing for things to get better for him. When she had known him, he wasn't a burned out shell at far too young an age. He had been vibrant, sure of himself, with a good heart buried deep below the tough exterior of a soldier. It was why she had liked him so much.
It was why she had loved him.
But that was a different time, one that seemed too long ago and yet still so fresh, all at once. It was then, and not now. Now was dark and lonesome and filled with what she would do, not what she could do. Because the cold truth was that she couldn't do anything, not anymore. And that was part of the problem, wasn't it? Otherwise she would sit beside him in the dark, unseen and unknown but for the touch of her hand upon his arm, the lingering trace of a kiss upon his forehead, the whisper in his ear, as he slept fitfully beneath threadbare sheets.
My dearest Samuel, how I miss you. Please, come back to me.
If only he could.