Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

And, well, that was it.

Last object to be realized, and just like that? They're gone, out the door.

You can't do anything but smile and wave, the house bitterly empty of all the life you once knew. Gone were the days of you playing with Parker, of listening to Sophia.

You can't even ask Stefan to help you cook, no, he isn't here anymore. You can't drink with Beverly, solve mysteries with Maggie, nor could you hang glide with the Hanks.

No, all of them were living their lives. Why should you ask them to come back? Why should you be selfish, want the care they gave you before they became human?

You were happy, weren't you?

You have your space to yourself once more; you can't feel paranoid that Fantina or Hector are watching close by.

But.. that used to be something.

It took so long, maybe longer than you really knew, but you're alone again. All you're able to do is straighten your face as Skylar and Hector walk out the door. You manage to wave a feeble goodbye as his eyes catch yours, an almost guilty look to it.

Couldn’t get your hopes up, though. He’s got his life to live.

You can only fight back your tears for so long as you shut the door, exhaling a breath you held to keep the words from spilling out.

Not before long, you were sobbing, crumpling to the floor – your hand squeezing the doorknob as if it’d illicit a response. The pain ebbed through in waves, crashing and sending you further down a spiral.

You don’t remember falling asleep, nor do you even remember getting in bed. You look down at yourself, a slight mark in your palms from where you dug your nails in. It’s hard to even look at yourself, not when this was the beginning of something new.

The routine had been shifted, and you spent time scrolling. You searched for jobs at home, something easy, and slow. It was hard to find anything, especially when you’ve been out of a job for so long due to Valdivian’s sudden interest in artificial intelligence. You started eating takeout again, much to your dismay. You hardly wanted to cook, barely having the appetite for something more than a snack.

If Freddy were here? He’d probably give you an earful for letting the food rot. That’s neither here nor there, though.

You started speaking to everyone again, as if they were still there. A way of coping, perhaps, you didn’t want to let the truth sink in.

Most were just friends; to them, you were probably nothing more than just someone to call now and again. But your partners? The ones you thought would stay?

God, their absence hurt more than you could have imagined.

Sam checked in, of course, she did. It wasn’t enough, sadly. She didn’t understand, the jokes fell flat, and you felt worse than ever. Her expression was always careful, edging around your mood like you were about to go off on her at any second.

For a life that seemed so lonely, there was joy. There were fights, bickering, debates. You had a life around these objects, and they, in turn, around you. The Dateviators were shoved, tucked away in your dresser. You put them on sometimes, acting like they still functioned.

You’d stare into the mirror with them, wondering what Amir would say to you now. Wondered if he would compliment you despite how you let yourself waste away. You shook your head.

Why bother with that? Why care? Out of all things, you don’t know why you bothered to keep in touch.

Some of them slipped through your fingers, your attempts at contact ignored. Or you ignored them yourself.

You could see the notifications pile up. Hector’s weekly texts, Stefan’s updates, Amir’s affirmations. All left unread.

Frankly, you didn’t know what to say. That you want them back home? Tear them from their new life, just because you don’t have the guts to go out and make human friends?

Your eyes blur with tears as you stare at the most recent text. You can’t make out who it’s from.

“Hoping you’re fine.” It read. A simple message, but you ached. You wanted to reply, say what you felt, went through. You wanted them to know how much you..

Shit.

You're being selfish again, aren't you?

Chapter Text

The moment you started typing a response, you stopped. Who knows who you’re speaking to? They could be near, like Dorian, or far, far away. You deleted what you wrote, shutting your phone off. You don’t want to be a burden.

Not now, not like this.

You brush your hands against your bed, feeling the plush mattress underneath your fingertips. Your mind drifts, and for a moment, you’re smiling again. Then you remember.

They’re doing fine without you.

You pull your hand back, as if the bed itself had bitten you. It’s pathetic to be acting this way, needy in a way that is useless.

Sinking to your knees, you let yourself rest against the bed. Your upper body cushioned, the warmth soothing your bones. You don’t remember how long it’s been. 

How long since you met Betty and met her safe, yet rather alluring gaze? How she comforted you in the night, curling around you to keep you warm. She wouldn’t let you cry like this if she were here.

The thought makes you weep.

So you weep.

You cannot help but let your tears soak the bed, the blankets. Your eyes burn eventually after all of it, so you force yourself to look up.

Your knees ache from resting on them for too long, your body wrecked from all the emotion in the world. Yet, there’s nobody for you to talk to.
Nobody is truly present for you.

You manage to stand, your legs shaking so hard you stumble. You catch yourself in the end, balancing your numb legs on the ground.

Honestly, if any of them saw you like this..

You shake your head. You use your palms to wipe away your tears, much too occupied to notice your phone buzzing.

Hector was calling, and you weren't picking up.

You dragged yourself to the bathroom to wash your face, staring at yourself, the faucet continuing to run. You look so different now.

Is that even you?

You stare into your reflection, the mirror foggy. You're barely able to make out your features, your blemishes, your marks. 

Everything that made you you, you can't see now. All you see is someone staring back, someone who isn't you.

You wash your face before more tears start to run, pausing before wiping with a towel. 

Instinctively, you let the faucet run for a few more seconds, watching as it filled the sink. River wouldn't be here to greet you, of course, she's busy.

You shut off the tap and walk back to your bedroom. 

You finally catch your phone lighting up and vibrating wildly. Against your better judgment, you check.

Text after text, missed calls. It was like, suddenly, someone knew something was wrong.

“ Are you alright, my love? ” Came Hector's newest message, most of the calls came from him. He left voicemails, ones that started to pile up the longer you stood there. 

There was one from Amir, though. You narrow your eyes, frowning. Why are they messaging you like this, out of the blue?

It’s only been half a year, you believe. Only occasionally do they visit, bringing trinkets and anything else they've come across on their trips. 

You don’t have the heart to put them up, having to see a constant reminder of their happiness, their contentment without you. You had stuffed them away in your work table, an empty drawer above where Jerry used to be. 

The junk is still there. However, you find yourself slowly picking at it. You want to get rid of it, but what would he think? It was his collection, his museum. His starting point.

You scroll through your notifications. Watching the number grow higher and higher. Your stomach turns over, dread growing. 

Did they remember you loved them? Did they remember how you wished them well, hugged them goodbye?

Or are they coming back because they want something from you?

You don’t know.

But you’d let them back in, if that means to feel their skin against yours one more time.

Chapter Text

Even after everything, you are unable to muster the courage to respond. You click on one of the messages and read through it slowly. Your guilt grows more with every text, seeing how they started normal, then became more and more desperate.

You know you can’t hide from them forever. Beau could come back and check on you, or, heaven forbid, Timothy could come and visit.

You keep your breathing steady, picking from one of the voicemails and pressing your ear to the speaker. You let it play.

“.. it’s me, azizam. I’ve heard some.. Worrying things.” Amir's voice crackles to life, the sound of other people talking audible in the background. “You haven’t been checking your phone? Are you trying to rest your eyes? I do understand, azizam, the blue light can hurt, but..”

He stops, just for a singular beat, then resumes. “.. I am concerned. We all are. Please, text me back if you’re fine, okay?”

“Remember, I love you, we all do. You can tell us – me, anything.” His voice wavers a little near the end. “Call me when you get this, eshgham.”

Short, sweet, yet anything but a comfort. The voicemail ends with your heart in your throat.

Amir.

Your sweet darling, someone you could confide in, someone you love dearly.

He’s reaching out, too, and you could hear the distress in his voice. Never mind his job, his duties, he’s putting aside precious seconds for you.

You decide, at least, to type something back. You couldn’t bear to think what he’d say if he heard you.

“I’m fine, just needed some time to myself.” A lie, but how would he know? You hit send, and watch as he reads it. The chat bubble pops up, then disappears, then appears once more.

“Are you certain, eshgham?” His words are like a punch to your gut.

“I am sure.” You respond quickly, your fingers flying over the keyboard. “Felt a bit under the weather, but I’ll recover.”

“I can come over and nurse you back to health, azizam.” The offer stuck out to you like a sore thumb. Genuine care, waving at you from across a vast ocean of sadness. “Or Farya can open up her schedule.”

“No.” Your reply comes too fast. Your palms are clammy, the beating of your heart flooding your ears as the chat bubble shows up once more.

Damn it.

“Please don’t do anything foolish.”

Your eyes drop to the newest message, a cold sweat running down your forehead.

“I’m coming over, joonam. Stay put.”

Chapter Text

You're not quite sure how long you waited for Amir to arrive. You try to freshen up, but the lack of food in your system makes you sluggish. Your body is weak.

You sit on the edge of your bed, in a daze. You can't hear much outside your window, but you'd assume Amir had pulled into your driveway. Or the lawn, by the sounds of it. You didn't hear his tires screech to a stop.

You can't help but stare into your palm, where your phone was. You kept it off, no use looking at more messages when you already fucked up trying to make things better.

Maybe this was all just a bad dream. Maybe, if you close your eyes and think hard enough, you will wake up. 

You lower your head, nausea overwhelming you. You feel sick. 

Of course, you feel sick, the tiny voice in your head cries, all you've done is mourn for people who are still alive.

You can hear the doorbell go off from downstairs, and you groan. You can't get up; it's like your body is refusing to face him. If he was calling from outside, you couldn't hear.

You rub your eyes and attempt to stand, but your face meets the wooden floor in seconds. You raise your arms out to stop the fall, but—

A sickening crack echoes throughout the house, leaving you with a nasty nosebleed. Your nose might be broken, too. Your vision is blurry, both from the pain and tears. How are you supposed to hide this? Alongside all your other issues, he’s going to see this .

You barely make noise as you sit up, plugging your nose with a tissue. You can worry about that later; you need to get downstairs before anyone else shows up.

“I'm here.” You stagger down the steps, resting most of your weight against the banisters. You couldn’t see much beyond five feet, but you could hear the gentle knocking coming from the front door. “I’m here.” You repeat yourself, twisting the knob to swing it open.

You are face to face with Amir, his beautiful hair tied back. His shimmery silver coat, replaced with a dress suitable for a gala, but it was now wrinkled. Beautiful silver accessories adorn him, a beauty for everyone to see. He was somewhere much more elegant than your empty house, it seems. His expression, though..

It’s anything but calm and collected.

You don’t hear him when he speaks. All you can hear is the occasional car passing by, your body and brain fighting you every step, even as you try to breathe. You stare as he reaches for you, but you flinch away.

“Oh, azizam,” You hear him whisper, his eyes full of grief. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

You feel a soft palm against your cheek, a thumb brushing over the blood that started to drip down your lips, your chin. The warm liquid somehow feels cold.

“Shh, shh.” He hushes you when you open your mouth to speak, closing the door behind him so he can tend to you properly. “Come, sit. I need to take a look at you.”

“I’m fine.”

“I was your mirror, joonam. I know how you are, and I can see all the hurt and anger in those beautiful eyes. Now sit.”

Amir leads you to the couch, and you are forced to sit. With a cloth that seemingly emerges out of nowhere, he pulls out the bloodied wad of tissue and dabs at the mess. He doesn’t listen to your protests, moving around the house for something – it’s as if he never left.

“It’s just a nosebleed,” You say, pressing the cloth he handed you to your nostril. “I’ll manage, I’m just tired.” You watch him go into the ground-floor bathroom, then into your office, his heels clicking with every step.

Silence, for a moment. You’re not sure what he’s looking for, but he comes back minutes later.

His panicked expression was now one of concern, with a faint hint of anger. But it’s not directed at you.

“My love.” He wraps his arms around you, embracing you tightly. “Oh, my beloved. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You were going to ask him why he’s so upset, but he holds you tighter. 

He can hear you, so why doesn’t he answer?

“.. Amir, what did you find?” Your voice is firm when you speak. You raise a hand to pull him back, catching the glimmer of tears. 

“The trinkets – our gifts.” He whispered, finding his voice. “Did you not like them, azizam? Why were they tucked away?”

Chapter Text

You have no idea what to say. Looking into his eyes, you find yourself stuck at an impasse. Should you be honest or lie?

Being honest might hurt him, but lying may hurt him more.

You feel the cloth against your nostril dampen with blood from where you held it. It is uncomfortably warm in your hand.

“.. I didn’t..” You start to say, but the heartbreak in his eyes made your chest ache. “.. I was being selfish.”

“Selfish?” A flicker of indignation crossed his features, his voice high in pitch. “Whatever gave you that idea, azizam?” 

You look, truly look at him, your own eyes stinging. You were going to cry, and it was going to hurt for both of you. 

“When you all left, I—I thought I could move past that.” You pull back further from Amir, and with this, the despair in his face deepens further. “Go out, move on. Find other people, actual people, to speak to.”

You fumble with one hand, digging your nails into the couch. You don't even try to hide how you turn your head, angling it so you wouldn't see his eyes. “I couldn't. How — how can I? You all are living such beautiful lives, and I just..” You stop short of your sentence, grimacing. “.. I'm still here.

“Time didn't change me, I'm still the same person. I'm happy for everyone, but I just feel lonely.” You knew how stupid you sounded, how absolutely horrible you were being. “I know you are living the lives you wanted, and I couldn’t be prouder.”

“Joonam..”

“Please, let me finish.” Your voice shakes. “The reason why the trinkets are tucked away is because—” Your hand clenches around the couch, the bitter pill you have to swallow coming full force towards you. “—because if I put them out, then it means I have to accept the fact that you all are better off without me.”

“No, that isn’t–” Amir tries to argue, but your sniffling silences him.

“I don’t want to move on.” You say, louder now. “I don’t want to let the memories be memories. I want to be in the moment with you . I want to live my life with you . Why do you all have to move so far away?” You lift your head, meeting his eyes.

They’re full of doubt, despair, and.. Pity.

“Why do you all get to be so happy? Why can’t I be like that too?”

Amir is speechless, for once. He brushes his thumb against your cheek, letting the tears drip off his hand and onto the wooden floor. He doesn’t say a word.

You wait for something, anything . Will he be angry? Upset? You don’t know; his expression is unreadable.

“Say something,” you plead, anger washing over you. “Just be honest, please , Amir. I want to know if you hate me. I want to hear it from you.” You grab his wrist, pulling him closer. “I need to know, for my own sake.”

His other hand reaches out, too, and gently holds your hand. He plucks himself free of your grip, intertwining your fingers with his. “How could I hate you after everything you’ve done for me, azizam?”