Insanely Cold Coffee

I'll Say the Dangerous Words

Far Too Gone

(Reader as ALLURA)

You could tell. There was nothing you could do. She was too far gone.

You met him, then. It didn't make anything feel better. Nothing at all. But he didn't see you as anything more than a very pretty friend, even after you two woke up in bed together, not knowing what you were doing, why you were in his bed, or how you both got there. Before the memories came back.

You liked him.

But not in that way.

Even then, even though you were both heartbroken, you still gambled with your feelings. Danced around him. You'd kiss, laugh, talk, and cry on his shoulders and vice versa, even when you both knew it was bad for you - even though you both knew it wouldn't end well, neither would it have helped you by any means, but you didn't care. He didn't care either, so you kept doing what you did. Yeah, you loved him. Just not in that way.

His name was Lance, with pretty blue eyes, and he loved music but didn't remember all the cords to the guitar. He liked a guy in his social group: Keith. But Keith was the type of person to get drunk in bed with others, so after he met you, he stopped going to Keith for a companion when he was lonely. He said it hurt too much.

Lance was pretty with caramel skin and chocolate hair like yours originally was, but he only reminded you of your father. It didn't matter though, because your father wasn't your father anymore.

Keith reminded you of her. Of Rommie, except you've been calling her Romelle lately. She always preferred her real name, Romelle, but she made an exception for you. Except you've been distancing, so you call her Romelle. You notice the way she eyes you when you call her that. Silently pleading you to tell her what's wrong. But you can't. You're afraid. You don't want to hurt her more.

She gave up though. She didn't bother, because she knew you knew what she wanted to know, and she knew you wouldn't answer, so she didn't bother vocalizing her thoughts. It's not like you would tell her anything.

Keith probably liked Lance, too. He just doesn't want it to show. Lance has always been a "Loverboy" character, so when he found out about his feelings, Lance had told you he was scared. He wanted to get away from it because the only people he's ever liked gave him nothing but pain, and he didn't think Keith would do any different. So, he went on dates, randomly hooked up with people, and would tell everyone how you two were going out. Keith began going to bars more often from then on. Yeah, Keith liked Lance. Fell in love. He just was too sure Lance didn't feel the same, so he swallowed the words inside his brain, racing behind his eyelids every single time he closed his eyes.

You feel guilty for not telling Lance. But you can't. Because then there won't be anyone to fake date. To get your mind off things. Someone you know to help get your mind off things. So you kept doing what you're doing. Breaking every single being around you, including Romelle, even though you and Lance both knew she knew it wasn't true. That you and Lance were dating. It didn't matter though. You two were very good actors, after all. But Hunk knew Lance too well, and Pidge was a very smart person. You made them swear not to tell anyone.

Don't tell anyone.

Because you weren't in control.

Rommie was.

So you waited. Waited until you got food poisoning. Waited until you drank a sip too much, popped in one too many pills, and wither away into dust because Rommie had a monster in her. And you thought you both knew that whenever Rommie stared at you with bags in her eyes, she looked for that monster. You thought you both knew that she never found that monster. You thought you both knew that instead, she found cobwebs and ashes. Because she's weak when she's with you. You're weak when you're with her. You're both in love, you both know it, you both show it in particular ways, but you never admit it aloud.

So you two stare at each other dead in the eyes like the rest of the world around you doesn't exist. Because it doesn't. Only you two do. And you both stare, and stare, and stare some more. Stare until you both wither away, your entangled bodies lying on the kitchen floor where you both collapsed, your coffee sitting on the island table, cold and waiting, but you don't do anything. Because there's nothing you could do. You're too far gone. She's too far gone. You're both far too gone.

Gone.

Gone.

GONE.

And that didn't matter. There was nothing about it to be done.

You're at a loss of control.

So you both melt away, in each other's arms.

Warm.

Safe.

Dead.

~fin~