human ↦ calum hood {au}

thirty-four: let go

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR:

| calum’s pov |

Lynette continues to stare at something in front of us, though the television was off. I hadn’t formally apologized to her, up to this day. 

It’s only been a few weeks after her breakdown at the hospital, and each day that passed, she became more and more emotionless. 

The days I’d spend inside her house were silent, only a few sentences here and there, but nothing more. Once she’d fall asleep, I’d leave and go to my own home. 

I also quit my job at the pharmacy, seeing as though I won’t need anything anymore. The only thing I do for a living was Lynette’s old job. I replaced her there.

She couldn’t work anymore.

All she did was look at nothing in particular, waiting for the day to end, so she’d sleep once again.

It’s like she had given up on living, just as I feared. She’s just waiting for the day she dies.

And really, if I’d known how to make things right, I’d do it. 

But it’s like, with what I’m doing right now, I’m waiting with her. That’s not how it’s supposed to be. I should let her know the third chance she has in life.

We could start again, right?

“I’ll go… a while,” she informed me, too lazy to speak all the words. There’s something off about the vibe she’s giving, but it’s best not to ask about what’s up with her.

“Where are you going?” I asked, curiosity getting the best of me.

Lynette stopped moving then inhaled a deep breath. “Getting something,” she replied, giving me a small smile before leaving me without another word. 

I watched as she disappeared inside the kitchen, the walls preventing me from seeing what she was going to do next. I turned to look at the screen in front of me; maybe if I’d done this more often, I know how she feels.

The only thing I see is my reflection, staring as I waited for Lynette to come back.

A few minutes passed, but I don’t hear her calling for me for help to reach something or some sort of movement that lets me know she’s still in the house.

That’s when I see her mirror image through the television as she slipped away to the front door.

“Lyn!” I shouted, standing up and going after her. I hadn’t realized I called her by nickname, but that wasn’t what I should worry about now.

“Just… Just this, Cal,” she mumbled, once I got a hold of her arm. 

She wasn’t crying or anything, but I felt it– her need for help. It’s the only thing she wants me to do, let her get help. She wants me to let go of her now.

And I do.

Author’s Note: short epilogue will be up tomorrow yay