The Last Time I’m Asking You - Jordelia
The amount of hours I spent listening to All Too Well and The Last Time while writing this fic is actually funny. I know I didn’t post for a long time and I’m not sure if anyone will read this but I had an idea and I had to write it and I wanted to share so here we are. Also I missed writing about these two so much so I hope you enjoy it :)
Shadows danced on the Thames’ quiet waves, reflection of the moon high up above playing hide and seek in between purple clouds. The cold bit Cordelia’s fingertips despite her best effort to keep her hands warm by rubbing them together. Ever since her return to London, Cordelia had developed the habit of taking an evening stroll by the river. That is whenever she could find the time to do so. It was a way to get away from everything, a welcome respite from conflicting emotions threatening to take over her well composed face. Coming back to London had meant coming back to reality, to responsibilities. To a heartbreak she could no longer hide from, for how real and constant it was.
A tear rolled down Cordelia’s cheek, icy against her skin from the cold. The river bank was also an excellent place to hide her tears. She promised herself that she would show her pain to no one, keep it locked inside.
Footsteps behind her brought her out of her thoughts. Footsteps mimicking hers as she stopped walking. It could just be another random person walking by the river. At an hour where most people in the city were tucked in their bed and fast asleep. She started walking again and the footsteps followed. A random person who was following her. She looked back, her hand reaching out for Cortana. Her breath caught in the frozen air forming a white cloud. Golden eyes were observing her hand questioning if she was going to slay him.
“Why are you here?” Her tone too sharp, accusing. She wanted to be alone but most of all she wanted to be far away from him. It had become easier to find his presence intolerable than to admit that after all that had happened between them she still dreamt of him at night. Dreams in which he was hers and nothing else mattered.
“I wanted to make sure you were all right, you left so quickly,” he replied. His voice so soft, so caring. She couldn’t blame him for being himself and he was someone who was attentive and compassionate, but she wished the softness in his voice didn’t sound like a thousand daggers cutting up at what little of her heart was left. She buried her face in her scarf and looked out at the river. The sloshing of the small waves hitting against the only sound as an answer. A dull rhythm holding so much tension in between them. He walked up to her, bringing one finger up to brush away her tear.
