desiderium | m. o'hara

thirty

TW: stalking, attempted physical attack, blood, assault, mentions of child trafficking

Did you miss the angst? :)

Whoops this entire plot of 'everything is good and fine and fun' went on way longer than intended :') if I had any self control I wouldn't overwrite this much, but I don't so !!!

Also I'm working on a pilot script/pitch atm so updates might become less frequent :')

Not proofread bc who got time for that in this economy !!!!

  "Hey, amor." My fingertips trace the blooming wild flowers atop Miguel's grave. "It's me again."

  The wildflowers have grown larger than the last time I visited, fully bloomed and striking shades of pinks and yellows and blues. They waver in the gentle breeze. The sun filters through the leaves of Miguel's tree above me, dappling the lush ground of his grave with small, golden pools.

Miguel had always rivalled the sun, had always been warmer, brighter than it - and Rosalina and I had orbited like he was the sun in our own galaxy. Rosalina had always been a daddy's girl, and I had always been Miguel's, too. He was the very centre of our universe. He was the gravity that bound our family together.

I rest myself against his tree and pat one of the petals. I usually talk a lot to him when I visit; I inform him of everything that's happened since. Rosalina's grades, or Mayday's antics, or the crazy happenings of the multiverse.

But today... I can't seem to find any words.

  It's been six months since my husband died. It's been six months since Miguel arrived in my world, standing on my doorstep and drenched by the rain. Six months since I learnt the truth about my husband's double-life, the multiverse, the fact that I'm the only me left. Six months of fear and pain and learning to heal.

Half a year is so long. Six months feels like an eternity when you've lost someone dear. It's like each minute snatches onto you, each a weight that drags at you. You can't walk, anymore. You've stalled. The world keeps on moving, but you've stalled.

I miss him.

Miguel was right. It never gets any easier, no matter how much you might think you've recovered. No matter how much you might love someone new. I didn't realise you could miss someone so fiercely and still be so in love with another. I didn't know they could be balanced the way they are.

I wipe my tears with a smile. The pain hasn't eased, it still feels like I'm getting stabbed through the heart every time I think of him, but at least it's begun to feel more bittersweet than just being thrown straight into excruciating agony. I recall the memories rather than focusing on the absence of the man who once stood beside me. But still, it's never easy.

My nose stings. I sniffle into my collar. I watch the sun climb the blue sky and inhale the sweet breeze of my first day of summer without him.

I don't say anything.

••🕷️••

  "Vamos, papita." I hurry my daughter along. "We're going to be late!"

  "I'm going as fast as I can!" she exclaims from where she's clumsily tying her shoelaces.

  It's a beautiful Sunday morning and there's a festival in Central Park that Rosalina's been dying to go to, and yet didn't want to wake up early to get there before the rush. Sleep-ins are more important than promptness, according to Rosalina. Problems don't exist if she can't see them in real-time.