You Could be Happy

A little story thing I wrote about 4 months ago.
Listen to You Could Be Happy by Snow Patrol while reading.
It's technically about Dan Howell, but you can just read it and imagine whoever you like, since the people aren't really described.

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1. You Could Be Happy

I woke up in my bedroom, the early London sun shining through the window and hitting my face. I rolled over and felt the other side of the bed. Where she used to lie, breathing deeply, is now only the cold, white bed sheet. I dragged myself out of the bed and put on some clothes. I didn’t even care if it matched, I didn’t care about how I looked… I didn’t really care about anything.

I managed to get myself out in the kitchen. I guess I should make myself some breakfast… I placed my hand on the handle to the refrigerator about to open it, but something inside me stopped when I saw the picture that was still hanging on the front of the refrigerator, only being held up by a little lady bug shaped magnet. It was a picture of the two of us, last winter at a gala. I was in my black suit, and she wore that lovely red velvet dress. I remember the first time I saw her in it. She had just bought it, and she wanted to show it to me. She opened the door, and came into the living room where I sat. “What do you think?” She sang in a high pitched voice. I wanted to tell her how beautiful I thought she looked. How I got that special feeling of happiness inside, when she spun around and laughed that adorable laugh. I wanted to tell her, how I loved her so much it hurt, but in a good way. That way, where it feels like there is something missing inside of you, but you don’t realize it’s because that space is already filled. I guess it’s true what they say, that you only truly realize how much you love someone, when they’re not there anymore. But I didn’t tell her. “You look lovely” I said, nothing more.

I opened the refrigerator, only to see basically nothing. That would make sense, since I haven’t left the apartment for 2 weeks. Phil had come over with some things for me, a couple of times. When he did, he didn’t stay very long. As much as he wanted to cheer me up and make me smile, it broke him to see me like this. I’d thought about asking him, if we could move in together again. It would be nice with some company, I guess. But at the same time, I don’t want to leave. This is the closest to being with her I’ll ever be again, and I’m not sure I’m ready to give that up yet.


I walked into the living room. It seemed very empty. It looked exactly the same, like when she lived here. It was warm outside, but the lack of joy, and the bare white walls, made it all seem so cold. I sat in the black couch. I placed my head in between my hands and closed my eyes. I tried to forget what had happened, and just not think at all. For the tiniest moments, it wasn’t true. Nothing was… It was just me and her, with nothing holding me back from holding her, and kissing her, and breathing in her scent. But when I opened my eyes, it was gone again. 
The hardest part was that everything reminded me of her. No matter where I looked, I saw her. When I entered the kitchen, I could hear her laugh. When I entered the bathroom, I could hear her singing in the shower. When I tossed and turned in bed at night, desperately trying to fall asleep, I could feel her cold hand brushing up and down my arm, trying to comfort me. 


The day she left, keeps on spinning in my head. All the things I said to her… I wish I could take them back. Stop her from walking out of that door, and just hug her, and tell her that everything will be okay, and that I’ll change, that I love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone. But I didn’t…
And right now, while I sit here, drowning in my own sadness and the memories of her, she could be perfectly fine… She could be happy right now. Why shouldn’t she? She deserves to be happy. She shouldn’t be sad just because I screwed it over. I just wish I could tell her, how much I love her and care about her…
But then again, what’s stopping me?

 
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