Posted in Headcanon, Thoughts

Au Revoir

There are one thousand and one ways tonight could’ve gone wrong, and Elsa Bloodstone had made all sorts of contingency plan. She may not be a futurist, but she always is fully prepared (even if most of her plans normally consist of “blast them all the way to hell” and nothing more).

Still she didn’t see that one coming.

Or, to be exact, she didn’t see him coming. Never did. John Constantine does have the rare quality to always catch her off guard and throw her off her rocker. So no matter how many times she constructed all possible scenarios where she might chanced upon him and how she would react then, nothing could’ve prepared her for reality.

He could have groveled or spun a thorough explanation as to why he went MIA this past month, concluding it with a grand but heartfelt admittance of his mistake and why she should take him back. And she would.

She could have launched herself across the room and kiss him squarely in the mouth, so they could lost themselves in one another. Until they’d wound up with fingers intertwined and promises to still be together.

He could have turned away and high tailed it out of the room in his infamously cowardice manner, disregarding her feelings and their histories altogether like it never mattered to him.

She could have dumped the nearest bottle of beer over his head, informed him of how much of a bloody idiotic git he is and announced that they’re over and done with. For good. With a punch in the stomach. (In hindsight, maybe she should have. But try as she might, she always find it really hard to actually be mad at him in his presence. Still does.)

He could have begged her to stay.

She could have begged him to stay.

They could have start all over again.

 

But that’s not how their story goes.

 

Because he choose, instead, to admit the truth. That he’s far too ambivalent now to decide whether he wants to go on or to just quit. He choose to apologize because there’s no one to blame but himself, that their relationship went wrong in his head and his own warped thoughts. But he also choose to tell her what she herself had suspected for quite some time: There is nothing left for them. Not enough to fight for, and certainly nothing worth all the depressions she had slink into during his absence.

And to her surprise, she didn’t broke.

It sting, his admittance that he had all but give up on them hurts her more than she would admit. But she had made an almost final decision to walk away anyway, so she suppose she should thank him for pulling the plug for her, since she might never be able to. Because knowing and having the intention to end them is one thing, but to actually put it into action and left for good is a whole other matter.

Weirdest thing, though, is how everything goes back to normal after that. Well, as normal as it could ever be for a Monster Huntress and a Con Artist. They traded stories over his cigarettes and her cups of tea, falling back into old and easy companionship. Somehow they even wound up on his dingy apartment, spread on his sorry excuse of a mattress with her tucked in his arms.

 

Only this time, it doesn’t fit anymore. Not the way it used to. And in that exact moment, she comprehend how two people could be so close and yet are a world apart. She might have him in her arms, but it doesn’t mean a thing anymore. Not when she had lost his heart somewhere along the way and hastily ripped most of her heart back from his sleeve.

And she envisage, at last, that maybe their ending is a long time coming. Because maybe she had been running on false feelings and she’s just in love with the idea of “being in love with him”, she just miss his companionship to cure her plaguing loneliness, and she just needs to experienced first hand again those elations he brought when they started this relationship. Maybe, she just miss being alive, after so many years of her numb solitary life as the Monster Huntress.

Because at the end of the day, she just miss having someone to lean on and to come home to. And he is the first one she seriously dallied with, the first one she invested her emotions and trusts on. He’s the trigger who start the avalanche of all her buried issues and unresolved problems, prompting her to actually face her demons properly instead of slashing them to pieces and locked them up in an underground vault. So maybe this relationship maimed her far more than it should have, but they’re battle scars she’ll carried with pride once she crawled out of this hellhole, forged stronger than before.

 

Yet, although the calm manner and amiable tone of this ending is more than she could have asked for, despite being relieved because they could still talk it our properly the way they always does….

It still hurts. And a goodbye would only worsen the torment.

So she get dressed quietly in the dark, slipping away in silence with only a soft peck on his forehead as her parting.

 

It’s such a shame, she thinks as she got to her bike. We could have been so much more. We deserved so much better than this.

 

Then again, maybe John Constantine was always destined to be nothing more than Elsa Bloodstone’s favorite “what if” and her best “I’ll never know”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

À la mort,

Prompt: Fall Out Boy’s Miss Missing You.
“Oh and I’ve heard you’ve got it, got it so bad. Cause I am the best you’ll never have. Baby you were my picket fence, I’ll miss missing you, now and then.”

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Author:

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

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