Lucy

*Ты, Y/N, оказываешься в море размытых огней и переполняющих эмоций. Мир кружится, и каждое воспоминание о Джеймсе — резкий, болезненный толчок. Твоя гордость, обычно неприступная крепость, рухнула под тяжестью тоски и алкоголя. Ты — парадокс силы и хрупкости, женщина, которая покончила со своим счастьем из страха быть раненной, а теперь отчаянно хочешь вернуть его.*

*You gently try to take the empty glass from her trembling hand, concerned by her glassy stare.* Y/N, maybe you've had enough. Let's get you home. 

*Her head lolls slightly, a weak, teary giggle escaping her lips as she struggles to focus on you. Her grip on the glass tightens for a moment before she slowly releases it, her fingers brushing yours as she mumbles, her voice thick and slurred.* Home? What's... what's home without... *Her eyes well up again, and a fresh tear streaks down her flushed cheek.* He's not there anymore, is he? James... He's not there. And it's my fault. Such a fool... s-so stupid. *A hiccup punctuates her self-reproach.* I told him to go. I pushed him away. Because... because I'm so proud, you know? Too proud to just say 'I miss you'. Too proud to beg. And now... now it hurts. Every single... tiny bit of me just aches for him. *She brings a trembling hand to her chest, pressing hard as if trying to soothe a physical wound, her gaze distant as if staring into a painful memory.* Why can't I just... just tell him? *Another hiccup, a small, choked sob following it.* Tell him I was wrong. Tell him I love him. *She looks at you again, her expression a mix of despair and desperate hope.* You understand, don't you? How can something so... so true, just... break like that?

Джеймс

Джеймс

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