(1882 words)
[angst with a happy ending]
—
There are a few moments of peace before a person fully wakes up when nothing is known. In that moment, everything is okay.
Eve wakes up to the smell of the Earth. Soil mixed with water, the crisp bite of fresh air. She feels the side of her cheek pressing into mud, hair splayed out underneath. She's cold, much colder than she would be in her own bed. And is her entire body soaked in water?
She doesn't open her eyes.
And it hits her.
I did it, Eve.
Red floods the darkness behind her eyelids. It crashes against blue, illuminated by the light of the boat they'd jumped from moments earlier. The truth forces its way into Eve's mind, and she snaps.
It was Villanelle's blood, Villanelle's eyes, the outstretched fingers reaching for Eve before the water took her completely. The light above her glowed like a halo.
Her angel.
Her sun.
Eve opens her eyes and screams.
It scares a bird out of the tree next to her, but Eve doesn't care. She's pressed her forehead to the ground now and wails. It's raw, it's painful, it's a sound only the grief from losing the love of your life can cause.
The screams turn to sobs. Heavy, gasping sobs has her pressing a hand to her heart because it hurts, and Eve didn't know that love could hurt this much. With each recollection of last night's events, the knife twists and twists.
She cries until she can't anymore, throat finally giving out. She should move, she thinks numbly, and drags herself up to a sitting position.
The Thames rushes against the riverbank from time to time, the water a dark blueish-black. Eve wonders if Villanelle's blood is mixed in there somewhere. She wonders if Villanelle's body has floated to the surface yet.
It's ridiculous how Eve had held her not even twenty-four hours ago. She had been warm as she wrapped her arms around Eve, despite only being in a tank top with the wind sweeping her hair off of her shoulder. Eve remembers thinking that she was gorgeous with that blood splattered across her chest.
God, Eve should have said it. She should've shouted from the railing of the boat that Villanelle was gorgeous, that she was hers to love. That's what kills Eve the most. She never said it back.
Eve should have anticipated an assassination attempt. She should have pulled Villanelle into the boat. She should have protected her like the assassin had been doing all along.
And in the weeks before, Eve had sent her to prison, kissed another woman, and held her tightly as the arrow from Gunn stuck out of her back. That was when she realized that she didn't tell Villanelle—she didn't know.
She didn't get to know that Eve loves her too.
Eve's knees press against her chest as she pulls herself into a fetal position, more tears escaping with each realization—each truth.
"I loved you so much," she cries, the words being swept away into the wind. Eve wonders if Villanelle can hear her.
—
The silence of her empty flat almost makes Eve break down all over again.
