Say My Name [ Teacher-Student Romance -- Robert Downey Jr ]

Ch.85 - Reflected Reminiscing

PLEASE READ. VERY IMPORTANT.

This final chapter was intended to be uploaded as one whole upload but this chapter turned out to be over 20K words so now it's 5 individual uploads!

20 COMMENTS = THE NEXT UPLOAD.

Also if this feels like it's all moving fast as you're reading along, consider that this day for Char and Rob started like 5 chapters ago with Molly's funeral. A lot has happened. Emotions are high. There will be warnings with these five part uploads.

Alright, enjoy!
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Molly's dead. Nothing can bring her back. Nothing. Not all of Charlottes devoted love or chaotic self-condemnation can change the deed that's been done. She's dead and gone and Charlotte will forever be alone--yet, Robert's here.

Temporarily.

Being wrapped up in his hold again is like, it's like rediscovering your childhood clubhouse made of sticks and bricks and whatever else you could find to fill your imaginary world. Except when you go back, you see that you're older now, what has happened in life to take away the magic from your eyes, that once used to paint soldiers hiding behind broken trees and see horses to gallop away on and weapons and worlds all of your own. Now you come back and it's longing you feel, and times to reminisce to, not quite realizing the innocence of what you used to have until you return to that same place jaded and changed.

Being wrapped up in his hold again is like going back to a place she longs to live. A place devoid of all the drama that you ensue in life. Less what if's, less why didn't I's, less lost chances and more I could be's, more hopes and dreams, more love and longevity.

Becoming consumed in his body, in his comfort and whispering assurances, everything that's been running rancid inside her, starts to settle. Slowly, but surely. Her chest hurts a little less, deafened by the caring caress swirling around her. Sorrow seemingly dropping slowly to the foreground, fading, and something intimate slotting into it's place.

There's no harm in forgetting--for now, as long as she's granted to do so (He shouldn't be here and her hind brain reminds her every few moments of that opinion ((but she's trying her mightiest to forget it))). To let his distracting gaze take away the pain for just a little while. To let him be here. Let him do what he feels like he needs to do and offer. She knows its as genuine as her feelings have always been for him. That he's not doing this out of guilt, but his own mourning. She sees that. In his eyes, in the shadows of his expressions.

The hum of life beyond shut doors, concealing them away from that prudent purgatory dressed up as a celebratory dinner in wake of the loss of a young life. Chittering wafting beneath a locked door, occasional bursts of laughter and the clinking of turkey-dinner smeared dishes.

Things had progressively slipped and lost urgency--quite literally, as gravity had worn their muscles, ached their spines, and welcomed them to lay down across the softly embracing bed, cushioned gently as the nights breeze swept in and seeped out.

White knuckles resorted back to healthy colours, strewn tight frowns eased and closeness proceeded.

Pinpointing when the oozing descent had occurred would be a blurry process as she's still caught up in his smell clouding around her. Distracted by his tracing touch along the horizon of her curvy sides. Down her shoulder, her ribs, sweeping down her figure to the jut of her hip, swirling before dragging back up her tingling being.

It's incredibly soothing is what it is, but it's also reminding her of what she should not be doing. Here, now. Though she can't help but push reason aside and embrace it; it feels good. It feels safe when she has felt unnerved for too long. Felt alone for too long.