Clemency [One Shots]

Gaurd Down

Wynter Rider

<<9:59 am, Tuesday>>

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It's funny. His dying wish was that I not get hung up on him and to find me somebody that could take care of me. He just expects me to move on from almost 10 years together like they never happened. And I'm just supposed to believe that i have another soulmate? That doesn't happen, you don't encounter the love of your life twice

               I'm sitting at the same table we'd use to sit at until he was ripped away from me. I never was a morning person and I'd always complain about how bright the sun was since the table was next to a tall window. I hated Barnes & Nobles.

               He'd sip quietly from his cup filled with hot apple cider no matter the time of year as he'd read some thick ass novel. Though initially boring, I considered our weekly ritual as a date—I was with the person I loved, outside of the walls of our home, admiring his organic beauty. He always came here in his night clothes which made him so much more cuter.

               I mugged the cup filled with apple cider as it had already burned me twice. He'd chuckle at my stubbornness and began to ask the barista for a few ice cubes in my drink when he ordered for us.

               I can't let him go

               His funeral was a month ago and I tried everything to stain my mind with his memory, but some days I felt as though it would slowly slip.

              I raise my head up so tears wouldn't seep from my eyes. I'd cried all I could over him and I soon realized my tears wouldn't bring him back from the dead.

             "Excuse me?" I snap my head towards the soft voice and the hand touching my shoulder. I shake his hand off and greet him with a mug.

               "What?"

               "Are you ok? You look like you're getting ready to cry" His face holds concern. His eyebrows are furrowed together in confusion, drawing attention to his light brown eyes hidden behind some nerd glasses. His curly hair is pull back into a puff and—why the fuck am I even staring so hard at this nigga in the first place.

              "I'm good bruh" I reply hoping that he would walk away.

               "It's ok. I'm not really good either" He takes a seat in his chair which spikes my blood pressure.

                No one sits there

               "Get the hell up from that chair, man, fuck wrong with you?!" I shout drawing eyes towards us.

              "Studies have shown that if more men decided to express their feelings they wouldn't be dying in their 60's" He says ignoring me for the second time. "Let's talk about our feelings"

                "I don't even know you" I comment getting ready to bash his pretty face in.

                What the fuck