Believe
Title: Believe
Ship: Guzman/Mira
Genre: Drama/Angst
Rated: PG-13
Word Count: 541
Summary: Some things were just not meant to be.
A/N: Written for Guzman/Mira - believe by bellakitse for ‘Friday One Word Fic Challenge - Week 8
I’m on a roll! One week on LJ and this is my sixth post. I’ll say it again, these two have taken over my life!
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The sound of ice cubes clinking against glass filled the darkened living room as he took a swig from his drink, the burn of the alcohol tolerable after the third serving of what passed as scotch in the new world.
There was no true cause for celebration. The only reason he had chosen to retire to his quarters instead of making the usual stop at Boylan’s was his need for privacy. Today would have been the day, the day he had planned for, had waited for with anticipation. He guessed some things were just not meant to be.
The week had passed slowly, time dragging on without end, tediously. It was an effort to wake in the morning, to drag himself out of bed, away from dreams filled with her. He had indulged in the warmth of his covers, her scent lingering in the sheets, until he could endure it no longer and angrily tore the bedding away, threw it in the washing machine, no longer wanting to be consumed by her essence.
The nights passed in a blur, using alcohol to dull his senses, numb his body from the constant gnawing ache that ate away at his soul. It was the only way he could escape her for any significant amount of time. Yet, somehow, she still managed to make her way past his one defense. He has often felt the caress of soft fingers on his skin when he was in a haze, a touch so incredibly like Mira’s that he turned in search of her.
In vain. It seemed alcohol had betrayed him as well. He lets out a hallow chuckle at his damned luck.
It has been one week since she left him, walked out of his life, head held high, eyes cold, bearing no sign of guilt whatsoever, leading her Sixers out into the perils of the jungle. One week since he had fallen apart, collapsed once he closed the door to his home, the weight of her treachery knocking him off his feet, stealing the very air from his lungs, causing his heart to seize painfully in his chest.
Agony. There was no other word to describe what he felt. Nothing had, nothing could have prepared him for something like this. In moments of weakness, he refuses to believe that the woman who has caused him such unfathomable heartache to be the same woman he had spent the better part of the year with, shared a life with. He can’t equate the two.
As he refills his glass and sets the bottle of scotch back on the coffee table, his eyes fall upon the object that caused his torment tonight. He leans back on the sofa, runs a hand through his hair, drink in the other, and closes his eyes. On the table sits a diamond ring, a family heirloom, a symbol of the depth of his devotion to the woman he had fallen in love with, of his desire to spend the rest of his life with her. Only now it taunts him, ridicules him for his foolishness.
With one last look he pushes the table away with a violent thrust of his boot, sending the diamond and the bottle crashing onto the ground.