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swiftgreatest · 5 months ago

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7 Days And Your Gone

Pairing: Abby Anderson X Reader

Warning: suicide, angst, no happy ending

A/N: this is a old post I had but I deleted it on accident so I’m reposting it because I have butterfingers

Day 1

You never realize how quickly life can flip on you, how everything can shift in the blink of an eye. One moment, you were laughing so hard your cheeks hurt, surrounded by friends who felt more like family. You were planning Sunday dinners and beach trips, texting Abby about what to make for date night arguing playfully over pasta or tacos, all while knowing you’d end up cooking both anyway because she’d want leftovers. You were in love. You were happy.

And then, suddenly, you weren’t.

There was no warning. No storm rolling in. Just a silence that settled deep in your chest and refused to leave. One morning, you woke up and couldn’t feel the sun through the window. Couldn’t taste the coffee. Couldn’t smile at Abby without feeling like a liar.

Everything felt heavy. Every conversation, every laugh, every breath. The joy you used to feel effortless and bright now felt like a performance. And beneath it all was a quiet, gnawing thought that maybe... maybe it would be easier if you just stopped trying.

You didn’t know how fast your world could fall apart. But it did. And now, all you can think about is how to survive the next hour without breaking.

You asked to be alone just for a few hours. No explanations, no distractions. You didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to be comforted. You just needed silence. So you turned your phone off, dropped it somewhere out of reach, and put on the kind of music that usually drowns everything out. The kind that used to make you feel something. Anything. But today, even the music felt hollow. The lyrics didn’t hit. The melodies didn’t stick. It all blurred into background noise, like a conversation you couldn’t quite catch.

You tried cooking next your favorite dish, the one your mom always made when things felt off. You knew the steps by heart, muscle memory guiding your hands as you moved around the kitchen. But it didn’t taste the same. It was off missing the warmth, the love, the care only she could put into it. You pushed the plate aside after a few bites, the disappointment settling in your stomach heavier than the food.

So you went to the bathroom. Turned the shower on as hot as it would go, hoping the steam would melt something away. Maybe the ache in your chest, maybe the thoughts clawing at your mind. But the moment the water hit your skin, all you felt was the sting. The heat found every raw edge, every cut you tried to hide. It didn’t soothe you. It punished you.

You turned the water off and stepped out, dripping, barely noticing the cold air or the way your towel clung to your body. You stood in front of the mirror, barely recognizing the person staring back. You didn’t move. Didn’t blink. You just looked.

And looked.

As if maybe, if you stayed still long enough, something would shift. Maybe the reflection would change. Maybe you’d see yourself again not this hollow, tired version of you. But nothing did. The hours passed, and still, you stood there, frozen waiting for something, anything, to bring you back.You stared at yourself in the mirror, eyes locking onto the parts of you you’ve spent years trying to ignore trying to fix, to shrink, to change. Your gaze settled on your hair first. The same hair you used to get teased for in school too thick, too curly, too different. You remembered all the times you wished it looked like theirs, all the times you begged your mother to straighten it, just so you could blend in. Now, it framed your face in tangled waves, and all you could feel was the old shame rising again, curling around your throat like smoke.

Your eyes dropped to your stomach the same one you used to starve when you felt like you were too much, like you were taking up too much space. You remembered standing in front of the mirror just like this, turning sideways and sucking in, trying to measure your worth by how flat your stomach looked that day. You remembered the hunger, the dizziness, the fake smiles when someone complimented your “discipline.”

You glanced at your nose next. Another thing you used to hate. Another thing people commented on, picked apart, compared. You’d trace it with your fingers sometimes, wondering what it would be like if it were smaller, sharper, “prettier.”

You hated all of it. Every single part of you. Everything you saw everything your girlfriend, Abby, somehow loved.

Your thoughts spiraled to one of the many late-night conversations you’d had with her those quiet moments when insecurities crept into your voice without warning.

“Look at the way my stomach looks,” you had mumbled once, curling away from her under the sheets.

“I love the way it looks,” she’d said, gently placing her hand there, like she was grounding you with her touch.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my girlfriend.”

“I’m saying that because it’s true.”

Her words echoed in your mind now, soft and warm like the way she used to hold you. But tonight, they weren’t enough to cut through the storm inside.

You stayed there, frozen in front of the mirror, tears welling up before you could stop them. And then they came slow at first, then heavy and endless. You cried until your knees gave out, until the weight of it all forced you to the floor. You curled up against the cold tile and sobbed until your body had nothing left to give.

And somewhere in that silence, with your cheek pressed against the bathroom floor, you drifted off to sleep tired, hollow, and aching.

Day 2

“Here, Julien. I want you to have this,” you say, holding out a small stack of your gaming consoles, your smile gentle but a little too practiced.

Julien blinks, her brows pulling together as she slowly takes them from your hands. “This is… unexpected. Why are you giving me these?” she asks, placing them carefully on her desk like they might break.

You just shrug, keeping your tone light. “Well, I don’t really need them anymore. And I figured selling them would just feel… I don’t know, wrong. So I thought, why not give them to my best friend in the whole wide world?” You try to sound playful, to make her smile.

She does, kind of, but there’s hesitation in it. Still, she walks over and wraps her arms around you, pulling you into one of those signature Julien hugs the kind that squeezes tight like she’s trying to fix you without saying anything.

“Thank you, Y/N,” she says softly against your shoulder. “This means a lot to me. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

You shake your head, returning the hug and holding on just a little longer than usual. “No need,” you say, smiling as you look at her really look at her. She’s been your rock since kindergarten. Through scraped knees, awkward teen years, breakups, breakdowns, all of it.

“Julien… you know I love you so much, right? I thank every god, every star, every twist of fate that brought you into my life. I honestly don’t know where I’d be if you weren’t in it. You changed everything for me. Thank you… for being you. I’ll see you soon.”

Julien pulls back a little, still holding your arms, her expression shifting. Her smile wavers, dipping into something unsure. “Y/N, you’re kinda scaring me. What’s going on?”

You don’t answer. You just glance around her room at the posters, the plants you helped her pot, the cozy chaos that’s always made this space feel like home and you smile, warm and distant.

“Y/N,” Julien says again, her voice tightening. “Talk to me. Please.”

But you don’t. Not yet. You just keep smiling, the kind of smile that tries to hold back the weight pressing against your chest.

"Nothing's going on," you say, your voice light, maybe a little too light. "Just feeling really grateful, you know? For all my friends. For you."

You flash another smile gentle, genuine, but guarded. Julien watches you for a moment, searching your face for something she can’t quite name. Then she nods slowly, accepting the answer even though it doesn't feel complete. A quiet settles between you, the kind that feels full even though no one’s speaking.

After a minute or two, Julien breaks the silence. “Well… I love you so much, Y/N. You’re still coming to my birthday in six days, right?”

You hesitate, then shrug. “We’ll see,” you mumble, trying to keep it casual.

She nods again, but this time there’s a flicker of disappointment behind her eyes. She hides it well Julien’s always been good at making space for people, even when they’re being distant. “Alright,” she says softly, adjusting the sleeves of her hoodie. “Well, I gotta go. But please, take care of yourself, okay? I love you so, so much.”

She steps forward and pulls you into a tight, warm hug—the kind only she gives. The kind that says I’m here, even if you won’t talk to me. You feel yourself melt into her arms, a soft ache blooming in your chest at how much love this girl holds for you, without condition, without question.

“We’re for life, Y/N,” she whispers into your shoulder. “Nothing not even death can break the bond we have.”

She holds you one beat longer, then lets go. You don’t want to, but you let her. She smiles at you one last time, then turns and gently closes the door.

You stare at it, frozen, as the silence settles in. The last time. You already know it.

But she doesn’t.

Day 3

“Abby… I think we should break up.”

Your voice is quiet, nearly swallowed by the hum of her computer fan. Abby turns from her desk, eyebrows furrowed, her fingers still poised over the keyboard. “What?”

You glance over at her, then repeat it calmer this time, but no less painful. “I think we should break up.”

She blinks, confused, like she’s trying to process a language she doesn’t speak. Then, without a word, she shuts down her computer, the screen going black with a soft click. She rises from her chair and crosses the room, lowering herself onto the couch beside you like she’s handling something fragile. And in a way, she is.

“And why’s that?” she asks, voice gentle, but laced with a quiet fear. “What did you do this time?” she teases, trying to lighten the mood as she pulls you into her lap with an easy smile the one that always made you feel safe, even in your darkest moments.

You settle into her arms, the familiar weight of her presence making your heart ache. Abby. Your Abby. The one who kisses your forehead when you're anxious. The one who always brings you your favorite snack without you asking. The one who loves you more than you think you deserve.

“I just feel like we should,” you whisper, eyes locked on some invisible point across the room.

She tilts her head, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “That’s not a good enough reason to break up, baby. What did I do? Just tell me, and I’ll fix it.”

You don't respond. You can’t. You just look at her—really look at her—and feel the exhaustion creeping up your spine. Slowly, you wrap your arms around her, burying your face in the crook of her neck, hugging her like you're afraid to let go.

“I just… I don’t think I’m right for you, Abby,” you murmur. “We’re so different. We come from different worlds. You’re so strong and solid and good. And I’m just… this mess. This crazy bitch who doesn’t even know what she’s doing most days. And I keep wondering what someone like you is doing with someone like me.”

Abby pulls away just enough to look you in the eyes. Her hands come up to cup your face, her thumbs brushing your cheeks like she’s holding something precious. “Y/N… you are enough. You’re everything to me. Everything I do, I do for you. I want to spend my life with you. I want to marry you. I want to have kids with you.”

You blink. “How many kids?”

“Six of them,” she grins.

You laugh really laugh for the first time in what feels like forever. A warm, belly-deep sound you forgot you were capable of. Abby lights up at the sound.

“I want our first daughter to be named Y/N Jr.,” she adds, brushing her fingers across your cheek.

You search her face, waiting for the joke, the smirk, the just kidding but it never comes.

“Really?” you ask, breathless.

She nods, then leans back against the couch, spreading her legs and pulling you close again, settling you between them like you belong there. “Y/N… I hate when you talk about yourself like this. It breaks my heart. You don’t see what I see. You don’t know how beautiful you are, how much light you bring into my life. You’re my sun, my heart. And when you say things like that… it’s like a knife straight through me.”

You nod slowly, taking in her words. You want to say I’m sorry. You want to say I love you too. But something inside you holds it back like the words are caught in your throat, afraid to come out.

She presses a kiss to your temple. “I love you, Y/N. You’re not getting away from me that easy.”

Hours pass. You both talk, laugh, fall into that easy rhythm that only people deeply in love know. You cuddle, legs tangled together on the couch, her hands running lazily along your back as you listen to her heartbeat. For a while, you forget the ache. You forget the darkness creeping at the edges.

But eventually… you feel it again. That familiar heaviness returning, pulling you inward. You shift slightly, pressing a soft kiss to Abby’s shoulder.

“I should go,” you whisper.

She lifts her head. “Where?”

You hesitate, forcing a small smile.

“To write.”

Day 4

Dear Abby,

My baby, my love, my hero

I don’t even know where to start except to say thank you. Thank you for every ounce of love you've ever poured into me. Thank you for every late night you stayed up just to hold me. Thank you for being my shoulder to cry on, my protector when the world felt too heavy, my warmth when everything else felt cold. Thank you for the laughter that pulled me out of dark places, and even the arguments that tested us because somehow, we always found our way back. Stronger. Softer. Still in love.

You’re probably wondering why I’m writing this why I’m putting it all down on paper when I could just walk into the living room and say it to your face.

But the truth is… I can’t.

I can’t look you in the eyes and tell you how tired I am. Not just sleepy tired, but soul-tired. Exhausted down to the marrow. I can’t tell you how I've started cutting again, even though we just celebrated a week clean with so much hope. I can’t bring that disappointment into our space. I can’t ruin the air between us with the weight I’ve been carrying. You know how much I hate awkward moments how I always try to keep things light, keep you smiling.

But Abby… I love you. God, I love you so much.

You’ve shown me strength I didn’t know I had. You’ve seen me at my lowest and never looked away. You’ve loved every inch of me even the ones I’ve always hated. You loved me when I felt unlovable. You held me when I couldn’t hold myself together. And every time I looked at you, I saw the proof that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t as broken as I believed.

Growing up, I always felt like the ugly duckling. Never good enough. Never beautiful. Never anything worth staying for. But you told me once, “Even an ugly duckling needs its swan.” And I couldn't believe you meant me. That I had somehow been lucky enough to have you.

We built a dream together, didn’t we? Six kids. A big house with a farm. A dog, a cat, a yard where we’d grow vegetables and watch the sun set together. The first two kids named after us God, we were ridiculous. But it was beautiful. It was ours.

I’m sorry, Abby. I don't think this lifetime was meant for us to reach those dreams.

Sometimes life just… doesn't care about how hard we hope. Or how badly we want something. Sometimes it just hurts, and there's no fixing it.

I need you to let me go.

I know you won’t want to, and I hate myself for asking. But you have to forget me. You have to move forward, even when it feels impossible. The heartbreak will fade one day. I promise. You’ll find someone new someone who can give you all the things I couldn’t. Someone who stays.

I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve put you through. It was never intentional. I never meant to hurt you. I loved you too much to keep being the reason you cried.

And I do love you, Abby. So deeply that there aren’t words strong enough to explain it. You’ve always made my heart flutter even just hearing your name made me feel like I was falling for you all over again. Every time.

I remember on our first date, you told me you didn’t believe in love. You said it was overrated. But then you fell in love anyway with someone like me. Someone who’s been dying a little inside every day. And you loved me through it.

Thank you.

Maybe in another life… we’ll get our happy ending. Maybe then, we’ll raise our six kids, and laugh in our farmhouse kitchen while our dog chases the cat around the yard. Maybe then, you’ll look at me and I’ll look back without any weight pulling us under.

I love you so much, Abby. More than I’ve ever been able to say out loud, more than I even understand myself sometimes. It’s the kind of love that lives in your bones that sits heavy in your chest and makes your heart ache in the best and worst ways. You became my home when I didn’t have one. You became my reason when I couldn’t find one. You became everything.

Maybe… maybe in another life, we’ll get it right.

Maybe in that life, I’ll be whole. Maybe I won’t carry this pain, and you won’t have to be the one constantly stitching me back together. Maybe in that world, we meet under different stars ones that don’t burn us when we reach for them. And maybe we’ll get our six kids, our farm, our messy house full of love and chaos. Maybe you’ll still call me your sun, and I’ll believe it.

Maybe in another life, we’ll wake up next to each other with no weight in our hearts, no sadness behind our smiles. Just us. Just love. Just peace.

And we’ll finally get forever.

Until that day… your gonna have to let me go

Forever yours,

Y/N

Day 5

The screech of ambulance sirens and the flashing lights of police cars cut through the night like a jagged wound. Your parents' house is engulfed in chaos, the sound of frantic screams and anguished cries filling the air. Everything is a blur, like the world is spinning too fast for anyone to keep up.

Your mother your sweet, strong mother screams your name, her voice cracking with pure terror as she cradles your bloodied body in her arms. She’s shaking, her hands trembling as she clutches you, her arms wrapped tightly around you as if she could somehow hold you together, keep you from slipping away.

“No! Not my baby! You can’t take my baby away from me!” she wails, her voice breaking with raw emotion. Her eyes are wide, wild with fear, pleading with the police officers who try to gently pull her away. But she won’t let go. She won’t let them take you.

Your father is there, too, trying to pry her arms open, his face pale, his voice desperate. “Stop being difficult, dear,” he says, his voice trembling with a mixture of worry and frustration. “Let them take her. They might be able to save her. Please, just let them do their job.”

But your mother doesn’t hear him. She can’t. She only sees you, her firstborn, her baby, slipping away from her. Her grip tightens on you, her tears soaking your skin. She’s not ready to let go. She’s not ready to lose you.

For a long moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your mother's cries, the frantic whispers of your father, and the muffled voices of the paramedics, moving quickly to save you. Then, slowly, so slowly it feels like time is stretching on forever, your mother’s arms begin to loosen. She looks down at you, her face contorting with grief, her eyes falling to the men who are hovering over you, ready to take you away.

And then, with a gut-wrenching sob, she lets go.

It’s not fast. It’s not easy. She holds on to you just a little bit longer, as if somehow, by holding tighter, she can reverse what’s happening. But she can’t. And as her arms fall away from you, she seems to lose herself in the memories the memories of you as a child. Your first word. Your first steps. Your first day of school. Your first heartbreak.

Her whole life flashes before her eyes in a blur of emotion, regret, and heartache. She never imagined that the baby she loved, the child she raised with every ounce of her being, would be slipping away from her in this moment. The woman she swore she would never become like her own mother rises in the back of her mind, her own fears taking root. Was it because of me? Did I fail her? Was I not enough?

Her heart is breaking in ways words can never describe, and yet, she lets them take you.

The ride to the hospital is long. The sirens wail. Your mother’s sobs are the only thing that fills the space. She doesn't stop crying. She doesn’t stop praying. To every god she knows, to every force that could hear her desperate pleas, she prays for you, for your life. She doesn’t want to believe it. She refuses to. Her mind can’t comprehend it. Why? Why would you do this? Why would you want to end it all? Why didn’t you come to her?

Was it because of her? Was it something she did or didn’t do? She tried so hard to be different, to be a better mother than the one who had raised her. She wanted to protect you from the things she’d endured. She wanted to give you a life free of the mental and emotional scars that had shaped her, free from the cruel words and actions of a mother who was never kind. But maybe… maybe the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Maybe she couldn’t escape it after all.

And now, she’s facing the nightmare she always feared the fear that she wasn’t enough, that somehow, she had failed you.

Her thoughts are a whirlpool of grief, guilt, and love. Why couldn’t I have done more?

"Mom, please! Tell me it’s not true!" Julien’s voice cuts through the air like a knife. Your mother lifts her head, her face twisted in agony, and sees Julien running toward her. Without hesitation, she gets up, arms wide, and as Julien reaches her, they collide in a tight embrace. The weight of the moment knocks your mother off balance, but she doesn’t care. She holds Julien as if she can somehow hold on to something, anything, to keep her from falling apart completely.

"She—she just… I—I’m a terrible mother!" Your mother chokes on her words, her voice breaking, and tears pour from her eyes. Julien tightens her hold, their own tears mingling with your mother’s, the two of them standing together in the midst of heartbreak and confusion. Julien doesn’t know what to say. They can’t fix this. They can’t take the pain away. So they just hold her tighter, silently promising to be there for her, for both of you.

The sound of footsteps comes from behind them, and a doctor appears, clipboard in hand, wearing a small, strained smile. She approaches cautiously, her eyes flickering to your mother. "You’re Y/N’s mother, correct?" the doctor asks softly. Your mother’s hands tremble as they come together on her chest, an almost instinctive gesture of protection. She nods without saying a word, her eyes wide, waiting, hoping for any good news, any glimmer of hope.

The doctor clears her throat gently before speaking. "Your daughter just got out of surgery," she announces, the words hanging heavily in the air. "She tried to end her life, and sadly, she sustained injuries to some major parts of her body. Right now, she’s in a coma. We’ve done everything we can. It’s now up to her whether she decides to wake up."

Your mother’s entire body goes stiff. Her face loses all color, and she seems to crumble into herself. The words sink deep into her, pulling the breath from her lungs. She shakes her head, her eyes unable to process what she’s just heard. A coma? The very idea feels impossible to accept. She reaches out, as if trying to physically pull the doctor’s words out of her mind, to make sense of them.

But there’s nothing to say. Nothing to do but let the tears fall, slow and steady. The doctor, seeing her breakdown, offers a quick, apologetic glance before turning away. She doesn’t linger, leaving your mother in a sea of disbelief and crushing sorrow.

As soon as the doctor disappears, another figure rushes through the doors Abby. She’s drenched in sweat, panting as if she ran the entire way to the hospital, but the fear in her eyes tells the real story. Was she too late?

She tried. She tried to get here as fast as she could. Her mind races as she pushes through the emergency room doors, her heart thundering in her chest. The thought of you, her Y/N, in pain possibly gone shatters everything inside her. She’s still struggling to wrap her mind around the fact that you, the person she loves, would ever even contemplate something like this.

It wasn’t even a day ago that you wanted to break up with her. Was that it? Was it because of the fight? Was it because of everything you’d been holding in? Was it something she had done? Her mind spirals through the possibilities, each one more painful than the last. She doesn’t want to believe it. She refuses to. But there’s a sinking feeling in her gut that something broke in you that she couldn’t fix.

Abby’s breath catches in her throat when she sees your mother’s face, crumpled in grief, her hands clutching her chest as if she could hold herself together. The look in her eyes says everything. Abby freezes for a moment, unable to speak, her heart racing as the weight of what’s happening becomes all too real.

"Is she..." Abby starts, her voice faltering, too afraid to even finish the question.

Your mother, her face raw with grief, barely looks up. But her eyes tell Abby everything.

Abby collapses into a nearby chair, feeling like the world is slipping through her fingers. It’s too much. She thought she had time. Time to make things right. Time to fix whatever was broken between the two of you. But now, it feels like it’s all slipping away.

What could I have done differently? she thinks. What should I have said? She doesn’t know. But all she knows is that her heart is somewhere, far away, with you—fighting, hoping, praying that you’ll find a way back to her.

Day 6

Abby hadn't left your side since she arrived, unable to pull herself away for even a moment. Not to use the bathroom. Not to rest. Not even for a breath. She was terrified if she let her guard down for a second, you might slip away, and she'd never get to hold you again. The fear gnawed at her, turning every moment into an eternity of helplessness.

*Beep*

The rhythmic sound of your life monitor was the only thing that kept Abby anchored in reality. She squeezed your hand, her fingers trembling with the desperate hope that you'd wake up. She glanced between you and the screen, anxiously watching the monitor, willing you to fight. "Come on, Y/N. Wake up, baby girl," she whispered softly, her voice cracking under the weight of her exhaustion.

To distract herself, Abby pulled out her phone, scrolling through old photos of the two of you, smiling in all those happy memories. There was the picture from your first date at the zoo both of you laughing as you watched the playful animals. Then there was the movie night, where you snuggled up together, the world outside forgotten. She smiled softly at the memories, but the ache in her chest grew stronger. She didn’t just want to remember those times; she wanted to make more. All she needed was for you to open your eyes and be there with her.

*Beep*

Abby took a shaky breath, trying to keep herself together. "Do you remember when you told me you were tired of living with your parents?" she said, her voice soft but laced with emotion, as though speaking to you would somehow make you wake up. "Well, I found this sweet three-bedroom apartment. It’d be perfect for us. The third bedroom would be great as a little office. College is starting soon, after all. We could start our next chapter there, just the two of us."

She paused for a moment, biting her lip to keep her tears at bay. "I gotta use the bathroom. I'll be right back, okay?" she said, squeezing your hand one last time before slowly standing and walking away.

*Beep*

Abby’s footsteps felt like they echoed in the hallway as she made her way to the bathroom. When she looked in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. Her cheeks were streaked with dried tears, and her eyes were bloodshot and swollen. She looked hollow, like a shell of the person she used to be. The reflection staring back at her wasn’t the vibrant woman she knew herself to be, but someone broken and lost.

She splashed cold water on her face, trying to shake the exhaustion from her limbs, but the ache of helplessness wouldn’t leave. Abby turned to leave, but the sight of doctors rushing down the hallway snapped her attention back. She froze, confused. Were they heading to your room? No... it couldn't be. Not yet. But the knot in her stomach told her something was wrong.

Y/N? Her mind raced, but her body refused to move, paralyzed by the thought of losing you. Everything she had lived with for the past six days, the constant vigilance, the hope, now seemed pointless. The weight of her memories your first introduction, your first kiss, that night you shared together flooded her thoughts. Then, everything blurred as her mind raced through the events that led to this moment.

"Move out of the way, kid!" a doctor barked, brushing past her roughly. Abby stumbled back, the force snapping her back to the present, but by then, she could hardly breathe. She looked down the hallway, the distance to your room feeling impossibly far.

She needed to be there with you. To hold you. To tell you everything would be okay. But something felt off. She tried to move, but her legs were heavy, her mind too clouded. And then, her worst fear came to life.

Abby arrived at your room just as your parents and Julien rushed in. She stood frozen at the door, unable to speak, unable to move. She watched helplessly as the doctors spoke softly to your parents, their words carrying a weight she couldn’t understand. "Say goodbye," the doctor said gently. Your mother nodded, her face pale, and rushed to you. She cradled your lifeless body, kissing your face, her words lost in the space between them. She said how much she loved you, how she wished she could have protected you from this fate.

Abby couldn’t bring herself to say goodbye. Her heart felt like it had stopped in her chest, too shocked to process what was happening in front of her. She stood there, her eyes fixed on your body, as the doctors slowly turned off your life support. She watched the last of your life slip away, the breath leaving your body like a final whisper. Her mind refused to accept it, but her body betrayed her, standing still, unable to move, unable to fight the overwhelming grief that took over.

And then, it was over. They zipped your body up in a white bag, and Abby’s heart shattered. The sound of your body being wheeled away was the last thing she heard before the room fell into a silence that swallowed her whole.

"I'm sorry for your loss, kid," a doctor said gently, patting her on the back. Abby didn’t respond. She was the last one in the room, the last to leave.

Day 7

The day of the funeral hit Abby with an overwhelming weight. In the span of just 48 hours, she had lost everything that meant anything to her. The reality of the loss was too much to bear, and there was no time to process it. She hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye, to hold you, to kiss you, or to tell you how much you meant to her before you were ripped away. All of it felt so sudden, so unfair. She wanted to stay strong, for you. She wanted to hold herself together, to honor you with her strength, but it was impossible. How could she, when a part of her heart had shattered, when the light in her life had been extinguished so abruptly?

As the pastor stood before the gathering and spoke, his voice full of praise, "Y/N was loved by everyone," Abby couldn’t focus on the words. She was too busy trying to keep herself from breaking down completely. Her thoughts spiraled as she fought to hold back the tears. She stared at the casket, wondering if this was some sick joke, if you were really gone or if you were just playing a cruel trick on her. She wanted so desperately to open the lid, to look one last time, just to make sure.

When it was her turn to speak, she found herself frozen. The words she had rehearsed in her mind felt foreign and impossible to say aloud. Every word felt like a boulder lodged in her throat. “Y/N was my everything,” she began, voice trembling, struggling to maintain composure. “It feels like a part of me has been ripped away. Life is so unfair. Why her? Why me? Were we not meant to have our happy ending, like everyone else? Were we so unlucky that the world just gave up on us? I promised her happiness. I wanted to marry her. I wanted to grow old with her... but fate decided otherwise. It took her away before I could even say goodbye.”

With a trembling hand, Abby held up the small box the ring she had intended to give you when she asked you to be hers forever. She stared at it, her heart aching, and a sad smile crossed her face as she continued. “Y/N, you were my soulmate, and I don’t think I’ll ever find someone who could take your place. I know you’d want me to move on, but I can’t. It feels like cheating, like I’d be betraying you if I tried to. You were my Juliet, and I was your Romeo. Maybe, in another life, fate will bring us back together.”

As she walked back to her seat, she was met by your mother's gaze, her eyes full of grief and gratitude. "Thank you for loving my daughter," she said softly. Abby nodded, her heart heavy as she held the ring box up. “I meant every word. I wanted to marry her,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the weight of her sorrow.

The ceremony continued, and when they began lowering your casket into the ground, Abby couldn’t hold back. She took the ring she had planned to propose with, the one that was meant to seal their future together, and threw it into the grave. Then, she slipped the other ring the one she now wore onto her finger, a silent commitment to the love they had shared. She watched as the earth covered you, the song of the service echoing in her ears, her heart heavy with each layer of dirt that sealed your final resting place.

Hours passed, and still, Abby didn’t leave. She stayed at your gravesite, lost in the weight of her grief. She stared at the sky, the world around her quiet, the stillness almost unbearable. But then, she saw it a dove. The symbol of peace, hope, transformation, and love. It flew across the sky, its white feathers a quiet reminder of everything you two had shared. Abby managed a small smile, her heart breaking but also finding a tiny sliver of peace in the symbolism.

"Goodbye, Y/N," she whispered, her voice soft, filled with both sorrow and love. "You can rest now."

And though she would never forget you, though you would remain in her heart forever, Abby finally stood up. She took one last, lingering look at the place where you lay, the weight of the loss heavy on her shoulders, but the love she had for you undying and eternal carried her forward.

I’m back better and ever everything is situated but I also start college today so a lot of updates are gonna be slow I have a few drafts I’m gonna post this week one of them being a Sevika smut. I hope you enjoyed this and remember if you ever feel suicidal or anything don’t hesitate to reach out your never alone in this Ⓒ atereaste

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swiftgreatest · 5 months ago

Text

THE WIND RISES

๑ Farmer!Abby x Urbanite!reader

Spanish ver: here

TW: Fluff. (title has nothing to do with Ghibli´s movie, it was not my main source of inspiration.)

Abigail felt weird. How did she get to this point? This feeling was unknown for her. Her cheeks were flushed with a baby pink, but this time, the cause was not the sun, it was true that she exposed herself a lot to it but, the cause was you.

She had always liked the peaceful life that the farm offered. Ever since her father died and she had to take matters in her own hands, she felt that, rather than a new responsability, it was her way of mourning the death of the man she loved the most. She tended to the animals, the cows, the sheep and the pigs, all of them loved every single bit of attention she gave them. She loved giving them attention too.

Even though, she couldn´t lie, it felt lonely sometimes. Apart from her dogs company, in the night, specifically after ten pm, when she looked up from the window to the sky, trying to find stars with shapes she´s never seen before, the only sound was the whistle of the wind and her calm breathing.

That was, of course, until you arrived.

What a pain in the ass, really. She never thought someone like you would change her life.

The morning you arrived was peaceful. She opened her eyes like she normally did. The birds sang happily, as if welcoming the new day. The sun didn´t quite shine as much as it usually did, but it was enough to wake her up.

She was quick to take a shower and put her overalls on, and, how could she ever forget to braid her hair? It was her own signature.

Abby didn´t have a lot of neighbors, she wasn´t a social butterfly either, even though, that doesn´t mean that the few friends she had didn´t like her, quite the opposite, they loved her. And how could the not love her? She was kind, composed and most importantly, you could see the honesty in her eyes from miles away.

But godness, you didn´t need an excellent sight to notice the big truck parked infront of the abandoned farm infront of hers. And that was the moment she saw you, getting out of the car with your brows furrowed and your lips pressed together, holding a few canvases and what seemed to be a box full of acrylic paints.

"A family? Based on the clothing, they come from the city." She remarked, tilting her head curiously as she observed. Even though she couldn´t see much, as soon as the man, who she assumed was your father, opened the door of the old house, you pushed him aside gently, entering the house as if stepping on the grass for a few more seconds would melt your feet. Abby chuckled in amusement and sat down on the table to eat her breakfast.

The first days were... weird, to say the least. Abby was used to only hearing the 'moos' from the cows, but your family? yeah, they were noisy as fuck. It was true that when your mother tecnically screamed at you to ask for a favor she felt a pang of annoyance, but at the same time, watching your family turn the lights on in the kitchen or in the bedroom, and even your father trying his best to fix the doors of the barn made her feel less lonely, even comforted.

"I´m afraid that door needs more than oil." She commented, leaving the buckets full of milk she was carrying on the ground, while she wiped the sweat with her forearm.

"Does it? To be honest, I´ve never done something like this before, I´m an office worker." Your father replied, trying to catch his breath.

"Really? And why move from the big city to a farm?" Abby crossed her arms, a bit confused.

"We needed a change, a big change in the routine. Especially my daughter."

She nodded slowly while she processed the information and then, smiled.

"A friend of mine is very good at fixing this kind of stuff, his name is Owen. I´ll call him later and I know he´ll gladly help." The man smiled at her as Abby carried the buckets of milk, that was the last task of the day.

The little chat between your father and her ended the moment she walked away, she ended up calling Owen and he did the job perfectly, just like Abby knew he would do it. She thought that was it until days later, someone knocked timidly on the door. She fixed a few strands of hair and opened the door, finding a sight she had been fantasizing about.

"Um, hello." You told her, holding a casserole wrapped in tinfoil.

"Can I help you?" Abby raised a brow, leaning on the frame of the door, trying to remain cool. But she was overwhelmed by your presence, to say the least. You looked so different compared to her. She could tell just by looking at the clothes you wore, the way you stylized you hair and even the glimmer in your eyes looked like the night lights of the city. She loved that, you were new, and you definitely looked like her next mistake.

"My parents wanted to thank you for calling... Owen?" You paused, furrowing your brows as if trying to remember if that was the correct name. Either way you brushed it off with a smile. "My mother baked this lasagna for you."

Abby smiled slightly, and nodded, receiving the casserole. After an awkward 'good night' she closed the door and sat down on the couch, she had a million questions on her mind, but there was one of them that she really wanted you to answer, was this encounter as pleasant for you as it was for her?

Oh, but of course it was.

You noticed every detail, even if Abigail didn´t.

The morning you arrived, you could not ignore her, standing up in the kitchen counter, cooking. How her muscles flexed whenever she reached for an ingredient, or the way she held that heavy pot filled with whatever she was cooking. You were infatuated.

How could you possibly not be infatuated?

You were there when she left the two buckets on the ground and wiped the sweat off her forehead. The sun hit her face in the most angelic way, her eyes were shining while she chatted with your father. And the way she looked at you when you bumped into each other. And maybe even when she used that kerchief everytime she let her hair down, it looked like it was alive when she rode that beautiful white horse.

You had to give her the lasagna, even though your mother was going to do it. Your hands were shaking as you approached the door, and when you saw her in that tank top, you almost had a heart attack. You tried not to stare but let´s be real, who wouldn't?

The eventual glances, secret smiles and 'accidental' encounters kept going. You looked for each other unconciously. Abby arrived from the local market at times where she knew you´d be outside. And you painted outside whenever you knew she´d be riding her horse.

You gave another brushstroke. The sun was setting and it was your favorite thing to paint. It was something that you knew would turn out great and perhaps you didn´t feel prepared to get out of your comfort zone when it came to your paintings, that could be found in every corner of your house.

"That´s pretty, but have you thought about painting you favorite person?" Her footsteps when approaching were silent, that´s why you flinched when you heard her voice.

"Abby!" You exclaimed, shaking your head and at the same time smiling widely. "Favorite person? You mean my mom?" You played dumb, pretending to be lost in your thoughts.

"Oh, so it´s not me?" Abby feigned offense, pretending to wipe the invisible tears forming on her eyes.

"I struggle with anatomy."

"I don´t see a problem, I´d be your model everytime you need me until you memorize the features you love to stare at when you think nobody´s around." Abby commented, with a playful smile.

You froze for a few seconds before leaving the brush aside, and you turned around to face her.

She looked beautiful when the sun was the only lightining available, but you knew that already. Neither of you broke eye contact, and neither of you spoke with words, since feelings was the option you both chose.

Abby´s dogs ran through the prairie, the grass leaned towards the South and two lovers with a silent pact observed each other while the wind rises.

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