treacherous | druig x reader

17: cessation

You stared at the composed post, and it stared right back at you. It was like your diary had puked on your screen. Everything was out at its full capacity. No summarizing for the authorities and no sugar-coating for the family.

Were you really going to post this? It held everything and spanned longer than any entry you had ever seen on the forums.

The "post" button taunted you relentlessly.

You re-read your opening line for the umpteenth time: "Long time viewer, first time posting...finally." It was short and sweet but buckled the reader in for the ride. That was good, it could be catching. But, then again, what were you trying to do with this post? Were you truly just trying to share your story, or did you want to warn others? Could someone just please listen?

You stared at it for an ungodly amount of time. You wrote it to post it...right? So why were you just sitting there, staring at it like it was a bear about to bite you?

You read and re-read and re-re-read the first few lines over and over again. You skimmed your words, your heart hitching slightly when your eyes caught just a glance of your soulmate's name. At the last second, you opted to not add too many identifying features, such as names or locations. You would no longer allow your story to be vague, but you also weren't sure what legal lines you were walking on.

When you were finished with the edits, you still weren't sure how you were feeling. It was gone. It was good to go. And you were just procrastinating now. This was meant to be liberating — not tighten the locks.

Your hand had a mind of its own as it reached for your laptop's trackpad. Two clicks were all it took. The page refreshed and your now-published post stared back at you. Everything felt normal. Nothing had changed after creating the thread. You had vomited your story onto the web and that was that.

When nothing immediately happened — no comments, no direct messages — you took a sigh of relief. Maybe no one would ever see it, you thought. It was just therapeutic and you could already feel yourself feel a little lighter.

Recounting everything had certainly been a heavy task. Every thought and every memory tightens the bond. You hadn't thought you would ever crave your soulmate, but that was the exact position you had found yourself in when you were deep into writing. You wanted nothing more than to turn back the hands of time. You would've had a better approach to it all. You would've been more compassionate, more understanding — more open to it all. You had been noticed and loved in a way you had never felt before. And now you could only hope and pray you would get it back. You wished you knew what he was out there doing. You could sense he was safe and alive. That was as good as it got for now.

Sighing, you closed the web browser and slammed your laptop shut.

One Week Later

One short, yet exhausting passed in such a slow but demanding way. Your post on the soulmate forums gained a little but reasonable amount of attention. It wasn't exactly the top post or putting the soulmate horror stories to shame (even if some of the comments said they were greatly concerned about your story) but it had a following and was regularly featured on the front page. A decent amount of comments gathered and you answered them here and there, mostly trying to assure people you weren't crazy or lying — a thing that was actually impossible as the forums did have its own simple but effective vetting process.

Behind those who were either terrified or alarmed by your tale were the genuinely interested ones. The people who wanted to know more and could learn to celebrate the little victories in your soulmate journey. Those kinds of comments were comforting to some degree. Hopelessness and confusion were easy to get lost in, but the little cheers from strangers warmed you. Needless to say, though, it was a mixed bag.