i thought about reading the tabloids when you started avoiding my questions, but it felt wrong.
[ he's shared them with her, but even sifting through them — voyeuristic glimpses of blossoming love, contrasted with the heaviness in nikolai's eyes as the photos continue, the tension in dominik's shoulders — feels like a violation. an invasion, stealing secrets that were never hers to witness, learning the nuances of a man who isn't here to tell her his story. dread settles like lead in her stomach, but she forces herself to continue until the end, until the spectacle the media had tried to make of dominik's funeral, and lets herself sit in silence with that knowledge. ]
i'm sorry, nik. i am.
[ if it's this difficult for her to stomach a stranger's death — much as he feels alive in this moment, a breathing entity in the room — she can't imagine the wounds nikolai carries. there are no words she can offer that would ever be enough, nothing that feels even close to adequate. ]
i didn't know him, but i'd like to think he wouldn't want you undermining the choice he made to spend the time he had with you. unhappy or not, that means something.
[ she pauses, fingertips hovering. there's still so much that needs to be addressed in what he's said, but: ]
i have something to ask. you're not going to like it. are you only interested in me because i remind you of him? i don't want you to forget him. i wouldn't ask that from anyone. but he's gone, and i'm never going to be him. i wouldn't insult his memory by trying to take his place, either. there's only ever going to be one dominik.
u know i love giant walls of text always
[ he's shared them with her, but even sifting through them — voyeuristic glimpses of blossoming love, contrasted with the heaviness in nikolai's eyes as the photos continue, the tension in dominik's shoulders — feels like a violation. an invasion, stealing secrets that were never hers to witness, learning the nuances of a man who isn't here to tell her his story. dread settles like lead in her stomach, but she forces herself to continue until the end, until the spectacle the media had tried to make of dominik's funeral, and lets herself sit in silence with that knowledge. ]
i'm sorry, nik. i am.
[ if it's this difficult for her to stomach a stranger's death — much as he feels alive in this moment, a breathing entity in the room — she can't imagine the wounds nikolai carries. there are no words she can offer that would ever be enough, nothing that feels even close to adequate. ]
i didn't know him, but i'd like to think he wouldn't want you undermining the choice he made to spend the time he had with you.
unhappy or not, that means something.
[ she pauses, fingertips hovering. there's still so much that needs to be addressed in what he's said, but: ]
i have something to ask. you're not going to like it.
are you only interested in me because i remind you of him?
i don't want you to forget him. i wouldn't ask that from anyone.
but he's gone, and i'm never going to be him. i wouldn't insult his memory by trying to take his place, either.
there's only ever going to be one dominik.