seraphic [h.s]

chapter forty eight.

Arctic Monkeys - Love is a Laserquest.
For the story, it's by Harry.

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Harry.
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Three things I noticed about Mae?

Her hair.

Her peeking tattoos.

She was happy.

All of that rich auburn hair that once brightened under the sun was now only visible under a certain light. Otherwise her hair was a sort of deep orange, more brown mixed through it now, like her hair couldn't decide on growing one colour so it chose both.

She was wrapped up so comfortably in that jacket of hers, but I could still make out the lines of dark ink that traced the back of her neck, wrapping around until the swirls flirted with the bottom of her hairline. It made me wonder what she'd chosen to be on her body forever. It made me wonder if it had hurt or if she was used to the pain by now. I wondered if she still worked at that tattoo shop and if she realised I'd never come when she'd asked me to.

I hoped she didn't realise that, though I was sure she had. That was Mae, always thinking about everybody else.

If she did realise that I'd never come to the opening night of the tattoo shop liked she'd wanted me to all those years ago, then I would let her take a seat and tell her, that not being there went down, in my books, as one of the biggest mistakes of my life— and there were many.

I would tell her that I'd arrived in Europe by that point, that we'd all been settled in for a few days prior. I knew the date of the opening night because I had engraved that number into my mind. I would then tell Mae that I had bought tickets to go back, to go back to the shop and be there for her liked I'd said I would. Because how could I ever let her down when she smiled that smile and watched me with those eyes?

But I knew how badly I'd fucked up, I knew a gesture such as that would mean shit for something that meant everything— to which I'd thrown all away. I would then go on to tell her that I had driven myself down to the airport the day of the flight, and I had watched that plane leave, I physically watched it take off all the while remembering what a shitty decision I'd made for myself. I'd wanted myself to feel the hurt. I'd wanted myself to understand what I'd given up, and that I'd really hurt her as a result.

It had never been my intention to hurt her, but at the end of the day, I'd still made that choice and I should have know that it would.

So yeah, I'd tell her that. And I knew all of it would mean absolutely nothing because it's still no excuse. There were a million ways that I could have found my way back to her, and I dodged each and every one of them. So then, I'd tell her sorry, and even though she wouldn't believe me, she would at least get the closure she deserved all those years ago.

If there was one bright thought in my soured mind, it was that Mae was happy. I could tell. I could still pick up on a few little hints that she'd left for me without realising. Her hands were fidgeting like they always used to, and I knew they were probably only doing that because it was me standing beside her.