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+------ Thread: your heart is an empty room // oneshot (/showthread.php?tid=22140)
your heart is an empty room // oneshot - mickey - 02-15-2021
[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 400px; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; color: black"]everything had to be planned down to even the smallest detail if tamara wanted to have a chance against brock van den bergh. meticulous plans were necessary when trying to confront one of the most treacherous people in all of the new world. if there was even one misstep, one moment of hesitation, tamara knew that she wouldn’t stand a chance. it was a good thing that she’d learned how to fight for herself through all these years. how to survive. how to someday seek back revenge on the person that ruined the perfect life she once knew.
lucky for her, she had many years to figure out how to execute her plan.
she knew she couldn’t beat brock in a typical one-on-one fight. she needed to pull at all the stops to make the scale tip in her favor. it wasn’t going to be a fair fight - but, then again, what did brock know about a fair fight? what did he know about the pain he had caused for the serge family, and how that would someday be his downfall? he never stuck around to find out. never gave his condolences or showed any remorse. the man packed up and left without another word towards the broken family he’d left behind. the thought of it all made tamara sneer. how could she have ever considered them family friends? how could the serge family have been so easily duped back then into thinking they were safe from the van den bergh’s path of destruction?
all she knew was that she couldn’t let the van den bergh’s make someone else their victim. she didn’t care if she had to fight unfairly in order to stop him. she made her way easily through the town of alexandra; people didn’t ask questions, and she didn’t ask any in return. what reason did they have to worry? tamara looked unassuming on the outside. not the person you would expect to come to bluestem prairie with such ill intentions. she went into the stables, setting herself up comfortably hidden from view as she awaited brock to come in to see his horse. a pistol held comfortably in her hands; mickey’s pistol. although she hadn’t been able to convince her son to come with her, to accept her choice, she found comfort in having a part of him with her that day.
sure enough, only a few hours after her stake-out, the sound of slow footsteps across the stable set her plan into motion. she peered over from her spot, watching brock’s back with a determined gaze. this was it. stepping out silently from where she previously crouched, pistol in hand, she started to stalk towards brock on light feet. closer, closer. once she thought she got close enough- the smallest creak from the floorboard made her visibly pause. brock was used to having to react fast, not even taking a moment to pause before he started to turn around. when he saw tamara, the brief moment of surprise showed across his face.
bang. tamara didn’t give him time to react before shooting him in the foot. he stumbled back, grimacing as the woman advanced closer, pistol in hand. he kept stumbling back. at first, tamara assumed it was to get away. though as she turned her gaze just a brief moment away to look behind him, she realized. he was going for his pistols. his holsters were inconveniently hanging up in the barn, out of reach. tamara couldn’t let him get to them. another shot. right in his leg. even with pain riddled across his features, he tried to reach his holsters in time. brock was too late. tamara put all the strength she possibly had into pistol-whipping the man, the handgun colliding viciously against brock’s skull. the sight of brock crumpling to the ground was almost too perfect a sight to tamara. he might have lost consciousness for the brief pass in time it took for tamara to stand over him, the barrel of her gun pointing down at him.
“tamara serge…” words so slick that you wouldn’t have even figured he’d been shot and downed, an almost mocking smile starting to form on his lips. ”we meet again.” her gaze hardened. what a snake. only he could take the fun out of a years-long plan.
“i’m not here to talk.” she tilted her head, looking down at him with a subtle scowl. “if anything, i’d be glad to never hear another word from you again. you know your time is up.” but there was a pause. a hesitation. a look of wonder in her eyes, as if contemplating something she’d been trying to know the answer to years ago. her lips parted, brows furrowing. “why did you do it?” the words were barely above a whisper, as if she didn’t want to know the gruesome details of what happened to her husband that night. “why did you kill him?”
the quiet chuckle from brock almost hid the excruciating pain he must’ve been in. both physically and emotionally. “you really don’t know, do you?” the mocking amusement could make the hair of someone’s arm rise. brock leaned his head back against the stable floor, looking contemplative himself. “your boy never told you?” perhaps he could see from the corner of his vision the way tamara looked visibly taken aback. the possible revelation that, somehow, mickey found out? brock didn’t need her to answer. her reaction had been answer enough. eyes looked up to the ceiling, coughing a short breath before he rasped, “well. i’ll be damned…”
she couldn’t play these mind games any more. finger on the trigger, her grip tightened as she insisted bluntly, “tell me. now!”
he was getting to her. if brock seemed to notice, he didn’t seem to care. she sneered. how could a man with two bullet holes in him act as if he was the one unscathed? the silence felt deafening before brock finally spoke up. “your anger, it's patently justified. but you and i, we're the same.” he looked her in the eyes. her gaze remained hardened and cold. how dare he act like he knew how she felt. all those years without her soulmate. all those years with a perfect family now broken. brock knew more about it than tamara would ever know.
brock’s gaze looked distant, almost as if he were reminiscing as he carried on, ”it kills you that you will never be able to hear their voice again, never feel their warmth, never see their smile…” her eyes narrowed suspiciously. ”grief drives a person to commit atrocities in the name of all that they lost.” tamara’s lips parted gently, something in brock’s gaze looking as if he found his information a bit ironic. ”so, what an antinomy we appear to have found ourselves in.” he stared tamara down, as if wanting her to truly know the words that were about to come from his mouth.
”you seek vengeance for the death of your husband in the same way i sought vengeance for the death of my wife.”
the revelation made the ground crumble from beneath her. “no.” denial came out in a gentle breath of air, eyes glazed over. that wasn’t so. it couldn’t be. the david she knew wouldn’t have dared to be the first one to shoot. not at alexandra. brock dug the knife in deeper. ”your husband? i killed the bastard the moment he put a bullet in my sweet alexandra's heart. i did to david what he did to alexandra, but the only difference was that my alexandra was innocent.” his voice briefly wavered as he opened his mouth and said, ”she did not deserve to die that way.”
if it weren’t the emotion in his voice, the sounds of a dying man trying to keep himself together in his final moments, tamara wouldn’t have thought it to be true. though even when it felt like the world was spinning around her, everything felt so clear all the same. mickey not wanting her to go through with it. had he been in her very same steps when brock broke the news to him? had he found mercy and figured enough was enough? had brock convinced him that they’d both already suffered enough?
would brock convince tamara that they’d both already suffered enough?
brock’s words sounded distant to her, a haze. she stared down at him, water glazing over her cold gaze, her grip on the pistolf firm. “you can't erase the past, tamara. killin' me, it won't make it go away.” her lip trembled. ”your husband is still but a memory and, once i'm gone, degenerates like me will still roam this land in my stead. you can't truly kill me when all these people are me.” she felt as if she were in a daze, the gravity of the situation only then choosing to fall heavily down on her shoulders.
”and, i know i've done bad things. i can't take 'em back — change a time that has already come and gone — and it has irrefutably become a part of who i am.” his mouth opened briefly, as if searching for words. as if trying to hold himself together. ” a lot of the time, these days, it feels like it's all i am. so paint me your villain if you must, but i refuse to apologise for the death of your husband. if i must die for reacting in consequence to the callous murder of my wife, then this is the honourable way to go.”
he leaned his head back against the stable floor, looking up at the ceiling. ”thank you. now justice will be served and…” the most choked up tamara had ever seen him, brock looked to the sky almost longingly as he woefully said, ”i can go home.
for a moment, she appeared as if she wasn’t going to do it. just like mickey when he had attempted to take brock’s life a little over a year ago, her hand trembled, finger threatening to no longer hover over the trigger. perhaps brock even seemed to think the same thing. once again, the mournful, broken, vengeful person would conclude that it wasn’t worth it to kill him. come to the realization that brock was a mournful husband that lost his wife that day. the mother to his kids. a sweet, innocent woman that never made for bad company. the two would sit together woefully. lamenting over the broken pieces of the lives they could never get back.
though as much as another part of her wanted to spare brock’s life, allow the man to live a life of constant agony over all that he’d lost... tamara stiffened her upper lip, straightening as she aimed the gun firmly towards brock’s head. the pain that she had endured all those years felt far stronger than the need for mercy. through clenched teeth and watering eyes, she uttered, “tell alex i’m sorry.” those final moments were peaceful as brock readied himself for the final blow. as tamara felt the relief of everything she’d worked towards coming true.
this was it. her idea finally coming to fruition. all the years she spent wondering what she could do to seek vengeance for her beloved husband. all the years thinking about how different life would have been had brock been the one to die that night instead of her david. there would finally be peace in knowing that she brought him justice. after all this, her heart could finally rest, at peace once making the person who brought such pain to her life pay for his actions. a plan that had gone accordingly, everything carefully accounted for.
there was only one thing she hadn’t accounted for in her meticulous plan.
bang.
in all of her careful, scrutinizing details, tamara didn’t account for brock’s kids to be around to save him.
it took a moment for tamara to come to the realization that she’d been shot. at first, she felt nothing at all. numbness. a loud ringing in her ears. just an instinct to bring her hand up to her side, against her ribs. she turned her head, finding the person standing at the other end of the stable, the man slowly lowering his pistol as he met her gaze. an older man stood close behind him. her eyes glazed with shock. “james?” her lips shook as she breathed his name. she barely had a chance to look at the hand soaked with her own blood before she crumpled to the floor close to brock.
jamie’s eyes grew wide, as if finally realizing what he’d done. immobilized. he shared a look with cassidy before his brother hurried further into the stables, closer towards his dad. brock had already sat up, keeping himself held up by two propped arms. “dad, are you okay?”
even brock couldn’t seem to comprehend exactly how he’d managed to survive. still, he shook his head, grimacing as he forced himself to sit up without relying on his propped arms for support. “yeah, i’ll be alright. don’t worry about me.”
“oh, god.” cassidy’s eyes turned upwards towards jamie, now standing only a few feet away. jamie’s eyes stared at tamara’s body, her frame so still. blood was starting to pool beneath her. “i. i didn’t mean to kill her. i was just-” helpless eyes turned towards his brother, locking eyes with him. they both knew jamie didn’t want to have to kill anyone. not like this. the two of them knew that it had been to protect their dad. he was just protecting his dad.
the very same dad he tried his best to avoid some days. the very same dad he previously yelled at that week, and said he wished he wasn’t life. wished he wasn’t alive. scared, wide eyes stared at cassidy, as if he was the one that could set everything right. lips subtly trembled. he would know what to do. cassidy always did.
cassidy’s gaze lingered before he turned his gaze away. he paused before he made his way over towards tamara, crouching down and briefly helping turn her over onto her back. she groaned in protest. tamara was in pain, but still alive. barely, but she still clung on to life nonetheless. “she’s still alive.” he stared down at her in thought. “i’ll take her to st. peters. we can get better help for her there.” he looked over his shoulder, looking his brother in the eyes as he said, “she’ll be alright.”
cassidy didn’t know how much he believed that, but he’d be damned if he told jamie otherwise. jamie looked more assured, nodding his head. cassidy stood up, gesturing towards brock. “in the meantime, get dad to the medic.” the younger brother didn’t waste time before slowly helping brock stand up on his injured leg. too in shock to not follow whatever jamie directed him to do. throwing brock’s arm over his shoulder, he walked alongside him out of the stables. cass waited before going towards bella’s stable. there was a certain look in his gaze, a stiffness and uncertainty as he got bella ready to go. he was used to having to save brock’s ass time and time again.
what he wasn’t used to was having to save jamie’s, too.
the trip to the district felt longer than it ever had. eyes peered over his shoulder to look at tamara, collapsed on bella. his brows furrowed gently. she didn’t look good at all; skin pale and clammy, breaths quick and shallow. he was surprised she managed to survive the trip up to this point. anyone would be surprised to see that. cassidy looked ahead at the district, trying to ignore the lump of anxiety in his chest. there wasn’t going to be an easy way to break this news. there wasn’t going to be a fair chance for cass to try and explain his connection to the situation. after all this time, cass had learned that saving someone’s ass often meant he got the brunt of the anger from those who’d been hurt.
if she made it to st. peter’s, maybe there’d be a better story for him to tell jamie. heading into the district, he was just about into district territory before he saw someone approaching. he slowed to a stop at the sight of green coming closer. at first, the leader of the district looked confused, curious in the near distance. ready to greet a newcomer to the district as he so often did. as he got closer, and saw exactly who was riding alongside cass, green’s face fell within an instant. in his eyes was a mixed look of part-shock, part-horror. without thinking, he sprinted the rest of the way towards cassidy and tamara. another northerner that had been heading out turned around to get help.
”what the hell happened?” the words seemed more fearful and upset than words that were meant to bite and cause harm.
cass worked to try and help her down. “she was shot.”
”wait, what? she got shot?” words fueled by emotion - by panic. trauma. not from anger. “how did this happen?” green went into action almost automatically, managing to get her down from atop bella with cassidy’s help. tamara was hardly conscious. a deadweight in green’s arms. green was horrified to see the way her blood clung to his shirt. the sheer horror and shock written in green’s gaze made it hard for cassidy to continue to try and explain. to justify what all had happened. jamie had his reasons to pull the trigger. that being said, that didn’t make it any easier. he opened his mouth to speak, though he didn’t get to try and explain the situation before mickey serge came quickly on the scene. alerted by the northerner from earlier.
for a moment, he looked just as lost as green had when he’d stumbled across the scene. his stoic gaze silently took in tamara’s poor condition and declining health, gently puffing a few breaths of air as he worked to catch his breath. then, his gaze landed on cassidy. something within his stoic gaze hardened. “cassidy?” the last time mickey saw cassidy van den bergh, he’d been harmless. one of the van den bergh kids he so often had to watch as a kid when their parents went out. they’d been one of the reasons that had inspired mick to want to have kids of his own someday.
if he had known back then that cassidy would grow up to be there, one of the people involved in tamara’s death, would he have done anything differently? would there still be the uneasy racing of his heart, and the bitter taste rising in his mouth? he looked as if there was so much more that he could say. so much more that he wanted to say. what can be said to someone when it felt like the world was crumbling underneath your feet and not theirs? what could be said to make them feel the same hurt coursing through your veins?
”mickey.” green’s uneasy tone made him turn his gaze, taking in the sorry sight. she collapsed against him as she lost consciousness. blood tinged green’s shirt; the poor man looked horrified. mick didn’t wait a second longer before springing into action, quickly taking tamara from him. he scooped her up into his arms, preparing himself to take her to st. peters. “go find tara. tell her to watch over arlo for us.” he didn’t want arlo to see tamara like this. didn’t want him to see the blood coating green’s shirt. he would be crushed. traumatized.
mickey spared a long glance towards cassidy. as often as he looked stoic, bits and pieces cracked to show his anger. his frustration towards the van den berghs. “get out of here.” there was so much more he wanted to say, though he felt that now wasn’t the time or place for it. not when he was hurt, and scared. horrified. he mustered up enough of a brave face as he said, words almost a bit of a threat, “and don’t ever come back.”
he didn’t have time to waste before he hurriedly headed further into the district. tamara stirred somewhat in his arms, groaning. the need to reassure her felt strong. there were so many times growing up when she would hold him, tell him that everything would be okay. that he didn’t need to worry because she was there. he couldn’t bring himself to tell her the same thing. he couldn’t lie to himself or to her and say that everything would be okay. mick never thought of himself to be the kind of person to hope, especially when the situation already looked bleak. the amount of blood she’d lost, the location of the bullet wound too difficult to treat… looking at her, then, he clenched his jaw uneasily. desperation clawed uneasily at his bones.
“it’s okay,” he quietly uttered, nearing the clinic. “i’m here.” even while tamara barely clung onto consciousness, there was the most subtle upturn of her lips into the gentlest smile. mickey swallowed hard and headed with her into the clinic.
at a rather young age, mickey serge came to learn that nothing around him lasted for long. his father passed away while mick was still just a boy, trying desperately to follow in his shadows. he lost his beloved dog, winnie, and lost ellie’s love shortly thereafter. at one point, he thought that he was going to lose her, too. it felt as if one by one, everyone he cared about would some day leave him in one sense or another. not only had it felt that way, but mickey had come to believe that that was the way his life was doomed to be. some day he’d lose everyone around him. death followed him around relentlessly, like an old friend. how tragic it was, to have death cling to him so desperately, yet watch as it only dared to afflict those around him.
for a moment - just a moment - he thought things were going to be different. a brief glimmer of optimism, of hope. a thought that there would be better days and only better days. he should have learned his lesson far earlier to not get his hopes up. no matter how hard he tried, no matter what happened in his life, he’d always be stuck in this cycle. mickey serge was destined to lose all of those around him. he could never get rid of the path of destruction that he brought to everyone he knew. not even his mother would be left untouched.
tired, red eyes blinked heavily. fighting to stay awake from where he sat, slumped over in his chair. lids tired from blinking away the tears that constantly threatened to form - not allowing himself to cry. head propped up against the palm of his hand, ocean blue eyes stared ahead of him and observed the quick, shallow rise and fall of tamara’s chest. his gaze was unwavering, as if one second without his eyes on her would lead to the end of it all. how long had he been like this? how long had tamara’s life been hanging in this painful balance? mickey didn’t know. the days had been a blur; he couldn’t even tell how many days he’d been at her bedside. only a few days at most, yet the days felt like painful eternity all the while.
and all the while, a sinking feeling. the amount of times he and lucerne had ran through every possible medication they had, searched every possible shelf only to come up empty-handed. it was infuriating, and in a way panic-inducing. there were these meds that had the chance at helping aid in tamara’s recovery. still, patrols to nearby vacant cities and pharmacies would come back empty-handed. empty eyes would stare at empty shelves within the clinic. they didn’t have the resources. not since the raid. guilt sat heavy on his shoulders. how could mickey save her when they didn’t have the supplies to do so? if it was something he could’ve done, he would’ve gone to the ends of the earth to get her all that she needed. he breathed a deep sigh through his nose. determined as he was, there was a bleak outlook for her even if he’d managed to have all she needed at his fingertips. no matter how bleak the prognosis would have been, though, there was still that sinking desperation. that wish that he could have done more for her.
footsteps. mickey turned his gaze briefly to watch as lucerne entered, vernon following him shortly behind. lucerne busied himself with caring for tamara; an unspoken agreement between the two that lucerne take over her care during her stay. the two were close. while they never spoke about why it was best for the other doctor to take over, there was a certain gratitude in mick’s gaze with every moment lucerne came into the room. mick often felt astounded by just how much others could underestimate his old friend, and just how much care he gave through his work.
mickey looked towards vernon as he stepped further into the room to stand beside mickey. the scene before him was like a car crash; so horrible that he didn’t want to look, but he found it hard to look away. the air felt lighter whenever green would walk into the room. “hey,” he greeted in a gentle breath of air.
“hey,” green greeted quietly. he rested his hand gently on mick’s shoulder; mickey leaned closer into his touch. “how’s she doing?” vernon already had a lot on his plate. while mick had the chance to put his life on halt for a bit, stop everything in order to be with tamara, the other man couldn’t afford the luxury. there were people out there that needed him around, as much as he would’ve wanted to stay around longer. tamara was just as much of a mother to green as she’d been to mickey. in some ways, she might have even meant more to green than words could have ever expressed. mick observed as lucerne worked on getting a set of vitals, holding in a short breath before he answered, “she’s okay. about the same as she was this morning.” a moment of silence, mick breathing in defeatedly before he uttered, “nothing’s changed.” quiet as the words were, they felt heavy on his chest. she wasn’t getting worse nor better. her staying the same was this agonizing limbo, waiting for the scales to suddenly tip one way or the other.
they’d already been grieving the loss of her presence once, each of them in their own ways. mick hadn’t felt ready to see her walk out of his life, uncertain if they’d ever cross paths again. mick wasn’t ready to lose her permanently. not a day would go by where he wouldn’t regret having her leave the district the way she had.
”why don’t you come home for the night?” mick’s gaze remained on tamara, leaning his head against his propped hand. part of him felt inclined to do just that. it had been so long since he’d stepped outside, too tormented by the idea that he’d miss tamara’s final moments. that she’d be alone when she passed. he couldn’t imagine how lonely the house must feel for green without him there- for arlo. it must have been difficult for the two of them, far more than mickey could try and know - yet still, green didn’t insist or look ready to argue. gentle. understanding. the older man blinked. eyes looked towards lucerne on the other side of the hospital bed. lucerne met his gaze briefly. holding it before looking down at tamara’s arm, taking off the blood pressure cuff.
mickey straightened in his seat, sitting up straight. “will you be alright if i left?” a question directed lucerne’s way, but having much more meaning than simply asking if it was okay with lucerne. would it be okay with lucerne if mick left tamara in his complete care; if he did everything he could for tamara while he was gone. lucerne appeared otherwise unfazed - whether he understood the gravity of the question or not. mickey liked to think that, for once, he understood. the other man never seemed to be so wanted and welcome in most parts. however, at the district, he found his purpose. “of course.” he said matter-of-factly, confidently. as if he wasn’t taking on such a big responsibility. mickey said that, while he’d been carrying the responsibility all this time.
mickey looked relieved, stressed features softening just slightly. “thank you.” standing up from the chair, he sighed before turning towards the door, heading out with vernon.
it was a long walk back home. he walked beside green almost gloomily, keeping his head low. feeling as though he was losing pieces of himself with each agonizing step away from his mother. vernon, who always seemed to know what to say, walked quietly beside him. something in it was nearly peaceful, calming a part of mick’s restless soul.
almost to their home, just a few feet away, and mick slowed to a sudden stop. green stopped a few steps ahead of him, looking back with quiet eyes and gently furrowed brows. mick’s lips pressed together into a thin line, shaking his head to himself. “i told her- not to come back.” green knew that already. mick had already poured his heart out about the situation, about what all had been said - about what their final conversation had been. he slowly raised his head to meet vernon’s gaze, a somber look in his eyes. his lips trembled. twitched. he breathed a painful breath through his nose before he asked meekly, voice threatening to crack, “so what if she doesn’t come back?” he never looked so small. “what if it’s all my fault?”
silence. lowering his head again, he reached a hand up to wipe at one of his eyes as tears threatened to form and spill. vern’s arms went around him without hesitation; mick’s arms wrapped tightly around him right back. he shut his eyes, worked to will away the tears. “it’s not your fault, mickey,” he mumbled against his shoulder. mickey’s heart ached. “it’s not your fault.” mick clung to him, clung onto those words - as if holding onto either one of them would make the devastating anguish go away. by the time he finally let go of his partner, heading into their home, he felt a little less lost. he felt a little bit of hope.
the night had been a long storm. mick felt caught in the tide. tossing and turning restlessly, only managing enough sleep in the briefest intervals. eyes would stare vacantly at the ceiling, fingers gently toying with green’s own to try and keep himself grounded. loss was something mick was accustomed to. too many times he’d built himself up, only to crumble and fall. pull those around him down with him. every time he was the only one left unscathed, aside from a few scars and mental wounds. how could he think the district would be anything different? how long did he have until everything else around him fell away underneath his feet again? his head would turn towards vernon, watching him toss and turn restlessly in his sleep. how long did mickey have left of this? the things he wanted to last forever never did.
eyes opened slowly from an uneasy slumber. light gently poured into the room. the distant sound of arlo and green talking to each other from further within the home. he sighed, grateful for the night to be over. standing up and getting dressed, he made his way out into the main area. arlo sat across from green, picking at his food aimlessly. mickey wordlessly ruffled his hair as he walked past, arlo’s lips forming a gentle, almost believable smile in response. he went to the cupboards, preparing to make himself a cup of tea - only to see a cup on the counter, already waiting for him. his shoulders relaxed, shrugging off a bit of the tense weight that once beared down on them. picking up the cup, he leaned against the counter. eyes thankfully meeting green’s as he raised the cup to his lips, the corners of his mouth threatening to twitch just slightly. the closest he’d gotten to a smile in a long time.
”i was talking to arlo about heading down to the bakery and trying out a new recipe i heard about. ever had banana bread? i think it’ll be mind blowing. don’t you think, alro?”
“i don’t know about mind blowing… isn’t that a bit.. dramatic?”
”what? dramatic?” green repeated, obviously exaggerating his own dramatics. ”says who?”
“me! i do,” arlo huffed a soft laugh, looking down at his food. wordlessly taking a bite out of it as vernon went on about this new recipe. mickey felt amazed. how could he get such a sad, upset boy to smile and laugh, let alone eat the food he’d been poking at - just by talking about banana bread of all things? his ability to brighten the mood went without saying.
he hated to admit how he took his time sipping at his drink, trying to savor every aspect of such a fragile, gentle moment before it could be crushed by the tragedy that cornered them.
knocking.
they all turned their heads to look in the direction of the door, faces falling. the calm came crashing down around them, scattered along the floor. clearing his throat, mick placed his drink down before walking away from the counter. “i’ll get it.” he wished he didn’t have to. that in some twisted way he’d open the door to find no one standing there. that he could turn away from it and will it not to be true. he knew what would be behind that door for him once he opened it up. he’d been trying to prepare himself for it, but he wasn’t ready for it. he wasn’t ready. not like this.
his hand lingered on the doorknob. turning, then slowly opening the door. his heart felt like it stopped when he came face-to-face with lucerne, a somber look subtly across his friend’s features. uncertain of what to say - perhaps already certain that mickey knew without him having to say anything at all. mickey’s jaw clenched, breathing a stressed sigh through his nose. he lowered his head, taking in a deep breath. guilt. if he hadn’t left her last night, if he had gotten dressed and quickly headed in that morning… if he hadn’t been so scared to leave the comfort of the house to go and see her… he blamed himself heavily for not being at her side when she died. lifting his head, he quietly asked, “was she alone, when she…?”
lucerne paused, lips parted gently before he spoke, “no. i was at her bedside.” mick felt grateful. words couldn’t express it. though still, as relieved as he felt, there was that nagging voice inside his head. it should’ve been him that was there for her. wordlessly raising a hand up, he gently squeezed lucerne’s shoulder. as much as lucerne didn’t care for touch, the man didn’t flinch away from the touch. he simply stood still. mick lowered his hand, breathing a deep sigh.
“i’ll see you at the clinic?” lucerne wordlessly nodded his head, lingering a moment before turning to leave. mick slowly closed the door. hand lingering on the doorknob before stepping away - turning to see green already stood a few feet away. the look in his eyes said it all. a lump formed in mickey’s throat, shrugging heavy shoulders. “she’s gone.” the brokenness in his words cut at his throat. eyes watered as he stepped further into the house. each step felt harder to take. lowering himself down onto the couch, he folded his hands together, raising them up to rest against his mouth. green wordlessly sat next to him. mick leaned against him. “i can’t believe she’s gone.” wordlessly trying to keep himself composed, the sheer shock of it all helped him stay together. arlo wordlessly walked over into their arms, his eyes watering. tears gently spilling. arlo buried his face against green’s shirt, the sight enough to make anyone’s eyes water.
things would never be the same again.
// hooo this took forever
closed for replies, but open for comments : ' )
Re: your heart is an empty room // oneshot - truce. - 02-16-2021
thanks a lot for this my heart's like this now : ))