fic: five love stories that we know
Title: part iv: heartbroken love
Fandom: SNSD; jeti
Word Count: 393
Rating: pgDisclaimer: about as real as a real Kardashian.
“Get out!”
The vase sails over your head and shatters on the ground, the flowers that were inside now a crumpled mess of broken stems and glass shards.
“Stephanie, please let me exp-”
She hurls another arrangement, this one a bit lighter, colors soaring through the air magnificently, like fireworks, until they approach you and they are no longer fireworks but whistling bombs exploding at your feet and on your back as you duck and cover.
By the time you notice she has run out of ammo, she has locked herself in the supply room.
You paw at the door like a motherless puppy and whimper your sorry’s, silently bargaining your soul to the devil if he would just give you a second chance. (You realize if this was possible you would have lost your soul hundreds of mistakes ago.)
“Jessica, get out of my store.”
She is next to the door, her words a whisper behind the wooden blockade. You stare at the wood, examining each groove and ridge until your eyes delude you and your brain loses comprehension of what it is studying. You think you see the Virgin Mary in the molding and start praying to her too because you need all the help you can get.
“Jessica, please. Leave,” she begs and you think her voice sounds as broken as your heart.
You are not beneath begging and groveling, crawling on hands and knees across hot coal until there was no more skin left to burn. That is the minimum of what you are prepared to do for her mercy though you know you could have learned how to walk on water and she would have not looked twice.
What do you do when the thought of her is not her delicate laughter or her smiling face, but her tear stained eyes and vengeful hands as they push you away because you are the cause of those tears? What do you do when goodbye is inevitable?
You collect the mess you are and crunch over the glass and stems and petals. Maybe you should clean up a little but every damaged flower is another memory tainted and who ever heard of repairing something dead?
Your feet drag you outside and while everything important remains in the flower shop in the alley, you are left with nothing at all.