The Second || 𝘩.𝘴.

『14』| 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝚄𝙻𝙻𝙴𝚃 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 𝙰 𝙶𝚄𝙽

reader discretion advised: mature content

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THE
SECOND
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CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
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THE
BULLET
FROM A
GUN
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"People are bullets, fired."

— an excerpt from Prodigals
by Greg Jackson

[[ DIXIE. ]]

[[ NOW ]]

It was clear to me, the skies and how they wept. These skies wept for me, pouring down the tears that were for the way I left, the way life goes on without him--Harry. Things would never be the same, not when I was so sure of living a life without him even before he called. Perhaps hope sparked once within those four walls but burned out into the sea, forewarning a waning fate. The memory traced haunted me some nights and followed me in broad daylight. Perhaps, it was out of love, to fall out of it as I refused to believe Harry would want me to go through hell; even the same way he did once in a past life when everything he knew was the life of an assassin.

I get out of my seat to check the compartment above my seat, as I unzip my duffel bag. The letters had fallen out, some scattering the pale emerald carpet below. I gasped and crouched down to my knees to pick them up. Before I could finish up, a hand grasped mine gently. I looked up, only to feel my world whirl before me at the sore sight of a past lover I never got to say my last words to. Kyle Asante.

"H-hey." I mustered up the courage to say, pulling a small smile though it was a gesture of hesitance.

"Hey." He affirmed in a monotone, chuckling. "Hey's all I get after you leave me hanging at the train station big time, huh?"

"Yeah. I guess so, Kyle." I shook my head. I take one of the sheets of paper in his grasp, folding them back up and tucking them back into my bag. I sit back down in the booth, a long silence between us being shared as I avoided his glance.

I glimpsed back over at him, our eyes locking for a moment.

"Can I?" He asked, cocking his head towards the empty seat across me.

"Yeah." I sighed, my shoulders tensing up. I choked back the tears that were coming on, pursing my lips.

"So?" He asked.

"So." I chuckled.

"You're alright?"

"I'm alive, is all that matters." I nodded curtly, suppressing any emotion in my eyes from pouring.

"You could've called me, Dixie." He said with concern.

"No, you can't. You can't tell me that. Not after everything." I replied, hurting deeply.

He digested my words, the sadness in his eyes fading.

"Alright then." He said indifferently.