In which living across the globe from her best friend means that she can only stay in contact three ways: calling, texting, and letters. But Gracie has a bad habit of not responding to calls.
Gracie Abrams x fem!oc
Social media and real life !
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Amelie stared at the photo Gracie had posted for the umpteenth time that morning.
"Ah," Jean clicked his tongue. "She's the American chanteuse?"
"Singer, dad," Amelie corrected. "And, yes. She's Taylor Swift."
"Well, Gracie doesn't deserve you."
Amélie shrugged, slipping on her coat. "Whatever. I'm going down there now."
Amelie's footsteps echoed through the quiet afternoon as she made her way down the familiar path to Gracie's house. The sky above was a muted shade of grey, matching the heaviness that had settled in her heart. She had known for days that this was coming - the day she would gather her things from Gracie's place, the day they would officially end what was left of their relationship.
The air was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the warmth that had once existed between them. As Amelie approached Gracie's house, memories flooded her mind - the laughter, the late-night talks, and the stolen kisses. She couldn't help but let out a heavy sigh as she climbed the front steps and rang the doorbell.
Gracie answered the door, her eyes red and filled with guilt. She looked at Amelie with a mixture of sadness and desperation, as if trying to hold onto a fading dream. "Hey," Gracie mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Hey," Amelie replied softly, her heart aching at the sight of Gracie's tears. She knew that this was the right decision, that she deserved more than what Gracie was giving her now. But that knowledge didn't make it any easier.
As Amelie entered the house, Gracie followed her like a lost dog, unable to let her go without a fight. She watched as Amelie moved through the rooms, packing her belongings with a sense of detachment that cut Gracie to the core. Amelie's movements were methodical, each item placed in a box with a deliberate touch, as if trying to distance herself from the memories attached to them.
Gracie's heart raced as she noticed Amelie's hoodie draped over her shoulders. It was a hoodie that had once provided comfort and security, a hoodie that Gracie had worn countless times during their movie nights and lazy Sundays. Gracie's fingers grazed the fabric as she fought the urge to wrap herself in it, to hold onto something that still held a piece of Amelie.
Amelie glanced at Gracie, her eyes lingering on the hoodie before meeting Gracie's gaze. She knew that Gracie was wearing it, knew the silent plea that hung in the air between them. But Amelie didn't say anything. She couldn't. The words were caught in her throat, a mix of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.
The silence was suffocating, broken only by the soft sounds of packing tape and the occasional sniffle from Gracie. Amelie's heart ached with each passing moment, the weight of the impending goodbye heavy on her chest. She wanted to reach out, to hold Gracie and tell her that everything would be okay, even though they both knew it wouldn't.
