- Text Size +
Story Notes:

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

i'm just getting this idea out of my head before it happens in a completely different way on the show.

 

She doesn’t watch him walk away because it’s too desperate. She still has this one last gesture and she’ll be goddamned if she doesn’t make it count. She tells herself that this is freedom, the thing she’s tasting now. The metallic tang in the back of her throat isn’t panic or sorrow, it’s liberty, and God Save Karen Fillipelli if she doesn’t do something with it.

Screaming is out of the question, not in public, not with that slow, agonizing ache building steadily and unavoidably in her chest. But soon enough, she knows, soon enough she won’t be that quietly desperate girl with the sleeves of her jacket pressed furiously against her eyes. Eventually she’ll find a sink and clean herself up and get it together, and then people on the street will stop averting their eyes like they feel sorry for her. Like they know.

“It isn’t a punch in the gut, it’s a kick in the pants!” Her mother would say, probably will say, when she learns of this. A saying that means shutup, that means stand back up, that means change.

There had been moments when she thought she could be with him forever, happily. So what? It can’t mean something if she refuses to allow it the luxury of hanging around. Karen knows exactly what to do.

So she gets home that night, after a painful, delayed bus ride that leaves her fuming, and he’s already begun to fade. The history of his hands in hers holds less meaning then it ever has. The way he made her feel sometimes, warm and safe and alive, means nothing when coupled with the fact that the sonofabitch was lying the whole time.

“He wouldn’t have been there for you.” She tells herself, scrubbing makeup off from underneath her eyelids so hard the skin burns.

“He loves her, she loves him, you were just a detour.” It’s already soothing, like this happened long ago.

“You tried to force it. You never loved him.” It isn’t true but it’s healing, even when the tears spill over and she has to look away, feel them singe their way down her tired, sensitive skin.

 

“His lips were nothing special and he never loved you.”

Chapter End Notes:

 

 

feedback is always greatly appreciated.



false_palindrome is the author of 2 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 2 members. Members who liked we stayed a long, long time also liked 1050 other stories.


You must login (register) to review or leave jellybeans