Posted in Headcanon

Split-Screen Sadness

To be truly honest, Elsa is not sure why she agreed to meet him and to some extent even insisting for it to happen. Sure, she could hide behind the pretense of talking it out properly and settling their upcoming course. But even as she counted down the seconds to that fated day, she knows it’s nothing but a feeble excuse. There is no such thing as options, their next path has been set, and though it’s not one they would want to choose, it still is one they’ll have to take.

Which is why when they finally meet, it took her a while to get her tongue and mind in working order before she could fell into their usual rhythm. Where for few precious seconds she could pretend nothing is wrong and they’re as alright as they could be, before things go down the familiar drain as she had foreseen. So much so they subsequently decided to move from their designated meeting place, back to her manor. Away from all distractions and disturbances, back to their personal bubble.

And rightly so.


For it was in their way back, he cracked a joke that not only pierce through her armor but also paved the way for the ensuing heartfelt words.

“I love you,” he croaked. “I still do. And if I could, if it is an option that I could take without causing too much damage and hurting you too much in the process, I swear in the name of Lucifer I’d stay with you.”

While it was relieving to hear those candid words and proved nothing has changed between the two of them in terms of heart, it was also the final knock of the gavel, signaling their demise. Because try as they might, this is one intricacy they can’t outwit nor conquer with guns and augury. And it isn’t fair of him to make her wait in uncertainty for something that might never be, nor is she a masochist who would willingly set herself up to fail, going through such torment for a reward that might never be hers.

Still, there are precious borrowed time on her hands now. So she pull him for a kiss once they’ve set foot in her manor, hell-bent for a last chance to let loose and snatch those closures she longed for. This is her final chance to love him goodbye and this time, she’ll bid her goodbye right.


In the warmth of her bedroom, lying awake and tangled in each other’s embraces, she laid down her shield and rest her weary soul, giving her drained bones a much deserved recess. She came home, at last, safe and sound in his arms.

And to the crook of his neck, cocooned with his familiar ardor and covered in his distinct scent, she let her tears falls. Disclosing how hard it is for her to let him go now that she got him in arms reach, and how she despised the unsympathetic ticking of the clock because it signals the inevitable end of their little relapse.


“I love you, still,” she confessed in a faint whisper. “And I’m sorry it wasn’t enough.”


And it’s the worst kind of estrangement, because it’s nobody’s fault and they’ve got nothing but cruel state of affairs to blame.


Which does not make it easier when their time runs out because his life came calling and she had to let him slip from her arms, once and for all. Because after this, there will never be another chance for a rendezvous, no more nights spent in each other’s company, and they might have to disappear from the other’s life for good.


Bitterly, she realised there is no such thing as proper goodbye. No farewell would ever be good enough to convey her animosity and loathing to part and no longer have him in her life, nor could any words communicate how she still long for him because as it turns out, she’s still so fucked in love.



Hours later, when she at last wills her limb to abandon her bed in favor of watching the thunderstorm from her window, she smiled at how ill-fated everything is. Had the call never came, she might be able to persuade him to stay and then the monsoon would prevent him from leaving her side.

But what good would it be, when she had got everything she needed, even wanted? They got to straighten out their thoughts and be virtuous about their enduring infatuation, she got to came home and fell apart in his arms, and she even got the privilege of him abiding to her desire. It was all that she had yearned and it was the best she could’ve asked for. The best she could’ve got given their current situation.

A prolonged stay would only ruin that.



In the chill of the wind, she remember he scathingly cursed, “Circumstances sucks,” before he left and she can’t agree more. Yet she have to admit that, given how the universe is rarely too lazy to allow a “coincidence” to happen, maybe everything did played out the way it’s supposed to be. After all, theirs was a story of a lifetime. An inexplicable bittersweet tale with conclusion that bequeath a permanent mark in their being and wayward souls.



Still, that does nothing to lessen the aching emptiness in her heart, or the pain of losing a beloved significant other.






À la mort,

Prompt: John Mayer’s Split-Screen Sadness.
“”All you need is love” is a lie ’cause we had love, but we still said goodbye. Now we’re tired, battered fighters.”



An emotionally invested enthusiast of pop culture. Apathetic by design. Aesthetically offensive and eloquently candid. A sentimental heathen.

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