[attr="class","illeana"]

[attr="class","illeana b"]

[attr="class","illeana i"]"i am fucking serious."

she does not relent, does not concede.

the fight has already been started, the war already waged. there is no turning back, no tucking her tail between her legs and pleading for him to stay.

if he wanted to, he would.

she has grown comfortable with the concept as silence and isolation have persisted in the spaces he's left behind.

"a text, a call, a quick visit on your way to work? what, is that too much for you to do?"

she rattles off suggestions on a low scale, bare minimum that she leaves claw marks in. too many and they'll sink beneath the water, drowning in an early death.

and with the mention of august, of choosing her over his little brother, she scoffs. will he hold that decision over her head as if it was her choice to make? her heels dig in further at the thought.

"then go spend your only day off with august."

dismissive, angry, and hurt, she turns away.

Felix Gallagher

[attr="class","illeana"]

[attr="class","illeana b"]

[attr="class","illeana i"]this is the point where she comes face to face with her endless regret... isn't it?

she waits for the sensation to come, for guilt to rush in like a dam bursting beneath the pressure.

and it never quite comes.

she stews in anger, in spite, in hurt. she holds it close, stokes it like one would a fire, and uses it to warm herself up to normal, living body temperature.

"fine."

there is no pleading. no begging. no desperation.

only acceptance.

"don't come, then."

and she feels cold, then, as if he's left her outside in the snow. it makes no difference, though, for he is leaving and she stays rooted in that pained existence until minutes bleed into hours and she finally, begrudgingly, locks her front door.

Felix Gallagher