#car parts and common law (pancho)

[civitatum-corda]

closed starter for @misunderstoodcreatures​ because YOU ASKED FOR ANGST AND I’M DELIVERING:

“Bree?” Pancho called as he stepped into their shared apartment, remembering only at the last second to nudge his shoes off to the side of the welcome mat so as to not lay a trip hazard for Bree for the umpteenth time. “Did you steal my hoodie again? The blue one. I couldn’t find it this morning and---” He noted the both the silence of the apartment around him and the lack of Bree’s coat in its customary place. “. . . And you’re not here, so I’m talking to myself.” Deciding to take initiative and look for it himself, figuring it has probably made its way to her side of the wardrobe from his, he made his way back to the bedroom.

Making a mental note to clean up his side of the wardrobe a little once he’d found his hoodie, he stepped further into the wardrobe to look, pausing when his foot bumped something on the floor. Pancho bent down to look, realizing it was Bree’s memory box. He hadn’t realized she’d still kept one; somehow, he’d missed it when he’d moved things into the wardrobe when he’d first moved in with her. The force of his foot colliding with the box had caused the lid to pop off. A few things appeared to have also been knocked askew in the box. Not enough to have caused them to fall out, but they were poking up above the top of the box. He cringed as he bent down, hoping he hadn’t ruined anything of hers that held sentimental value.

The first thing he saw was a selfie they’d taken on a digital camera, going by his hair and their combined fashion sense, in their early teenage years. A little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Pancho didn’t want to go snooping in Bree’s things, though, so he moved to tuck everything back into the box so the lid would fit. But something else caught his attention.

A piece of paper, folded and lightly yellowed with age, bearing his name in Bree’s handwriting. A letter of some kind?

Against his better judgment, he reached for the letter and unfolded it. The date was the first thing that grabbed his gaze. Bree had been in Honduras then. She’d written him a number of times during that time; what had made her not send this particular letter?

The answer to that particular question found him quickly, slamming into him so hard that he toppled back into an ungainly seated sprawl on the ground with a sharp exhale, back hitting the side of a nightstand beside the bed. Pancho had gone to visit her with the rest of the Ken.obis in Honduras. That was the first time they’d made the attempt to get past being friends who occasionally had sex. And they’d been very successful. Until Pancho had gotten back to the States and Bree went almost entirely silent a few months later.

She’d been pregnant. But considering there had been no baby, she’d never said a word about pregnancy, and that one video chat they’d had where she’d looked so sad. . . His stomach clenched, tears stinging his eyes as he took in a shuddering breath. She’d lost the baby.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that it took Bree’s voice coming from the doorway of the bedroom for him to realize she was there at all. He looked up at her with eyes swimming with tears. “. . . Were you ever going to tell me?” he asked, not trusting the stability of his voice at anything louder than a whisper.

[civitatum-corda]

@misunderstoodcreatures || Bree and Pancho xmas:

“The tree looks great,” Pancho said, setting down the box of ornaments he and Bree had been picking from. “I’m gonna go get started on the hot chocolate, you want big marshmallows or mini marshmallows in yours?”