The Suffering Of Fools (IJ Fanfic, Sal Vulcano X Brian Quinn)

Part 11

Sal woke up the next day, still wearing his clothes from the previous night, but with little memory of what happened when he'd gotten back home. He sat up slightly from beneath the covers, and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands as he groaned gently. He looked at the blinds, and the crack through which the sunlight poured, a little and yet all at once.

Swinging his legs off the bed, he touched something cool and foreign beneath his covers. Now sitting upright, he slid his hands under his duvet and across the surface of his bed until he came about the object. Pulling it from beneath his covers, he found it to be the framed photograph that he had been caressing the night before as he drifted into fitful sleep. He looked into her eyes resembled now in frail paper, and gazed into them, but this time without the gentle longing which he so often had. He placed the picture on his bedside table, obscured slightly by his alarm clock, and left for the bathroom.

Returning, he checked his phone. Emblazoned across the top of his screen there flashed a banner, telling him of a message. He opened it, and saw that it was from her. His heart did not flutter the way it did before, and this sickened him slightly as he read her mild words.

Sally,
I know you're not up yet, but I know you'll see this in the morning. You didn't sound quite yourself the other night and I hope that you're alright. I know this is difficult for you, and I'm so very, very sorry, but I know we can get through this - me and you. Because you're strong, stronger than I am, and I love you for it, along with everything else. Hope that you have a wonderful day with the boys. Not long now, baby, and we'll be together again. I miss you, Sally.
All my love,
Clarabelle x

He re-read her gentle characters over and over again, and thought with such bitterness upon the resentment he had felt for her last night. He hated not her, but his hate for her. He sat there, reading the message again, until almost memorised, and locked his phone.

Perched there on the edge of the bed that he shared with her on so many otherwise lonely nights, he began to weep softly; crying for her memories in the angel light of the bright morning sun.