Patient B-2

Chapter Ten: Cierien

 Sophie's withdrawal into her private sanctuary, seeking solace amidst the recent tumult, has become a familiar rhythm. I empathize with her need for solitude, yet for me, it's an uneasy state. In the initial throes, Sophie was my steadfast anchor, a constant presence by my side. Now, that I've gotten better, she finds time for herself, without me. I recognize that most people need their space, time by themselves, but I am not one of those people.

 We had exhaustively investigated the addresses, discovering that the majority labeled as auctions were clustered in the same vicinity, just an hour's drive from our residence, if not closer. While the party venues were scattered, the latest one appeared to be conveniently nearby. Wrath persisted, methodically inspecting each location, and I couldn't help but feel that by now, he too was grappling with the sense of idle restlessness, yearning for a more engaging pursuit. Yet, he never makes a move to speak to me.

 Silence has become an unwelcome guest in our conversations, settling in between us like an uninvited specter. The once effortless flow of dialogue has dwindled, leaving a palpable awkwardness lingering in the air. Sitting beside him, I'm acutely aware of the chasm that has developed, and the absence of words feels heavier than ever. It's a stark contrast to the times when we could effortlessly converse about anything and everything, reveling in the beauty of meaningless chatter.

 "I thought I saw Avalyn," I blurt out, the words tumbling from my lips in a frantic rush.

 His sudden tensing on the sofa tells me he's heard every syllable, despite my haste. "Where?"

 His response catches me off guard. I had expected a rebuke or perhaps stony silence. "Some store. It turned out to be Idalia, but for a moment, I could've sworn it was her."

 "Makes sense. Perhaps your brain's way of linking the two due to the trauma," he states plainly, his nonchalant shrug adding to the casualness of his statement.

 I nod in acknowledgment, my nervous habit of chewing on my lip betraying my unease as our eyes lock in a momentary connection. His gaze quickly retreats back to his laptop screen, and I find myself longing for the return of his attention. "It wasn't the first time I've thought I've seen her," I confess, the weight of my words hanging in the air between us.

 I've never dared to confide this in Sophie, harboring it as my own private burden, afraid she'd deem me delusional. She'd put in so much effort in the beginning, trying to piece my shattered psyche back together. I couldn't bear the thought of her believing all her hard work had been futile. It hadn't. I'm aware Avalyn is gone, yet there are moments when I still catch glimpses of her presence.

 I offer a clarification to Wrath, attempting to articulate the peculiar experiences that have haunted me. "Not like actually seeing her," I begin, my words stumbling over each other in an effort to convey the elusive nature of these encounters. "It's more like... I'll catch a glimpse of someone who resembles her, or stumble upon something that triggers memories of her, and for a moment, I'll have this inexplicable sensation that she's right there with me. Does that make sense?"

 I chuckle nervously, feeling the weight of my confession lift slightly as I continue, "And sometimes, I catch myself forgetting, not like in the beginning when it was all-consuming, but I'll have something I want to share with her, and for just a fleeting moment, I'll instinctively turn to seek her out."

 He leans back against the cushions, his gaze fixed ahead as he nods in acknowledgment. "Yeah, it makes sense," he murmurs softly. "Sometimes, I think I see her too."

 I bite down on my lip, fighting back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. It's a vulnerable moment, one we haven't shared since her passing. "Yeah?" I respond, barely above a whisper, desperate to hold onto the fragile connection we've forged in this shared confession.

 "Yeah, I see her everywhere, all the time," he admits softly, his voice carrying the weight of longing and loss.

 I let out a soft laugh, tinged with a bittersweet edge. "She could never truly be gone," I whisper back, the words resonating with a sense of comfort and sorrow intertwined. "Sometimes, I find myself searching for a strand of her hair. On the couch, on her bed, scattered on the floor; it's as if she's left fragments of herself everywhere. She's woven into the very fabric of that house, isn't she?"

 Wrath's chuckle ripples through the air, his head shaking in amusement. "That's a bit odd, Cier," he remarks with a playful tone.

 I can't help but laugh along with him, throwing my head back in agreement. "Oh, absolutely," I reply, acknowledging the peculiarity of my actions.

 "Do you collect them too?" he interjects, the humor evident in his voice.

 Our laughter intertwines, filling the room with a sense of camaraderie and shared understanding. As I turn to meet his gaze, he's already rushing out, "Oh, no, please tell me you don't—"

 "No, no, no. That would be incredibly weird," I manage to snicker, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks as embarrassment washes over me.

 "Cierien," he deadpans, his gaze fixed on me.

 "I... I don't... No, I—" I stutter, trying to find words to defend my actions.

 "Oh my god," he sits up a bit straighter, disbelief evident in his expression before he dissolves into another bout of laughter.

 "Fuck off. It's... It's just my own way of grieving," I protest, though the laughter bubbles up within me once more, unable to resist the infectious humor of the moment.

 As the laughter subsides, a peculiar sensation settles in my chest. It's not the ache of laughing too hard or the familiar pang of missing Avalyn. Instead, it's a bittersweet ache, a reminder of something I've been longing for without even realizing it. I've missed this— laughing with my best friend, sharing these moments. I've missed seeing him laugh, missed his presence in my life more than I care to admit. In this moment, despite the underlying sorrow, there's a glimmer of warmth, a reassurance that maybe, just maybe, we can find solace in each other's company once again.

 "That's so fucking weird," he breathes out once we've both calmed down.

 "Shh... Let's keep that between us."

 "Yeah, wouldn't want anyone knowing you're a freak," he quips with a smirk.

 I chuckle in response. "Only for our girl."

 Our girl.

 It slipped out so easily, and I almost regret it as I see him begin to tense up again. "Sorry, I—" I start to apologize, but he interrupts me before I can finish.

 "She was really special, wasn't she? Our girl," he says, his voice tinged with emotion.

 My breath catches in my throat, and I feel the weight of his words pressing down on me. "So very special," I manage to choke out, the lump in my throat growing with each passing moment. Unable to say anything more, I simply let the tears well up in my eyes

 I sink deeper into the comforting embrace of the couch, resting my head against his arm. To my surprise, he doesn't pull away; instead, he sinks down next to me, leaning his head against mine.

 "I miss her so very much," he admits quietly, the weight of his words heavy with longing. "She lives in my head, haunting me. I see her everywhere, but also nowhere. And it's fucking killing me, Cier."

//

that was sweet :(

it's downhill from here though :)

THANK YOU FOR READING ILY!!