[ he shouldn't do this to himself, but he does. in some backwards way, he almost thinks it will help, plugging in and listening to every song she sent him. maybe it will help him get into her head, to better understand what happened, why it happened. (he knows why, but it's like he needs to keep reminding himself, as if that will change what happened. it won't.) tommy will no doubt notice and stop him eventually, but for a long while (in as many speedster minutes as he can get away with), he's curled up on tommy's couch, listening. ]
[ the tears start with "i ran." they don't stop for a long while. ]
[ by the time he gets to "running up that hill," he wants to send her something, wants to send her a hundred things back for every message she sent him while he was gone. to let her know -- what? that he misses her? that he still loves her? that he wishes he could have her back? he's not even sure it would do any good. kate knows what she wants, and it's not him. not anymore. ]
[ he doesn't make it all the way to "careless whisper." his heart is too fragile for that. he thinks about deleting every message. he almost does. but something stops him, and he's not sure what. maybe he finally figures out that all of these messages spell out something kate never said to him, and now never will. they're the remnants of an unspoken i love you, fossilized in his phone. he couldn't delete that even if he wanted to. it doesn't make him feel better, but it does make him feel like maybe he can move on. hadn't she? ]
[ eventually, once he gets his phone back from tommy, a text comes through, and it's more for his catharsis than for hers. but he means it all the same. ]
I'm sorry
[ he doesn't expect a response. frankly, he's not sure he wants one, either. but he's not sure he said it enough before, so he says it one last time and then turns his phone off again. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
february 08.
[ the tears start with "i ran." they don't stop for a long while. ]
[ by the time he gets to "running up that hill," he wants to send her something, wants to send her a hundred things back for every message she sent him while he was gone. to let her know -- what? that he misses her? that he still loves her? that he wishes he could have her back? he's not even sure it would do any good. kate knows what she wants, and it's not him. not anymore. ]
[ he doesn't make it all the way to "careless whisper." his heart is too fragile for that. he thinks about deleting every message. he almost does. but something stops him, and he's not sure what. maybe he finally figures out that all of these messages spell out something kate never said to him, and now never will. they're the remnants of an unspoken i love you, fossilized in his phone. he couldn't delete that even if he wanted to. it doesn't make him feel better, but it does make him feel like maybe he can move on. hadn't she? ]
[ eventually, once he gets his phone back from tommy, a text comes through, and it's more for his catharsis than for hers. but he means it all the same. ]
I'm sorry
[ he doesn't expect a response. frankly, he's not sure he wants one, either. but he's not sure he said it enough before, so he says it one last time and then turns his phone off again. ]