take this garbage starter / @keenforjoaquin
it’s been months and she can still feel him. she can feel the weight of his head on her chest during their last moments spent together, arms wrapped firmly around her waist in a feat to prevent her from leaving. but she had. she had grabbed her bag and forced herself to leave. none of his protests nor his soft pleas could get her to stay. but it makes no difference at all and she feels as though nothing has come to change. because she still feels him. she feels his eyes, green and intense upon her. and hands, slender and cold yet so delicate as they traced upon her heated skin.
she can feel him when she’s alone. when she’s angered or saddened — when she’s lonely and longing for her old life in gotham. because now she wears skirts and walks about like a lady. now she’s the old willow. a woman forced to relinquish the weight of daunting memories from gotham, a woman forced to start anew. and this is possible for some time if only because willow is the best kind of liar. she’s learned to fool her family even after years of having not seen or heard from them. and in all of this, she manages to convince them that she needs to go back for an awfully mundane reason — that she has friends that she wants to visit.
friends. she only has one. one who likely now only fantasized about her death. one who was never quite her friend. because friends didn’t look at each other the way they did, nor did they kiss one another with such fervor as they did. perhaps he feels as though he was best left off dancing in her blood as he had joked about months ago. and so she returns to gotham, not quite expecting that she would see him in the dark of night. her footsteps are slow, soft pitter-patters against the pavement and she hears a pair of them behind her as well, closing in on her. it is only when she rounds the corner that she sees him again. arthur. months have slipped past her fingertips and now they stand face to face and she asks him now why he has followed her — why he isn’t imprisoned as he should be.
but he’s not sorry. he doesn’t care. and she only backs against the brick wall as she finds herself speechless at the sight of him. “ how did you find me? ” a silly question. it seemed that they always found each other. they always collided with one another. “ i don’t … i didn’t come back for you. ” a foolish lie that was and she figures she can lie to everyone else but him. not arthur.