Sunset ^beta

Lyta can barely breath as she bolts upright in bed. Her palm smacks against the side of her head before cradling it as the song sifts through her like gold, melted and bold. It bathes her synapses and heartstrings, buzzing, burning. No matter how hard she tries, she can't shake it out of her mind. But as the tears well up, as her breathing quickens, hands gripping the blanket to ground herself in some fuzzy fragment of reality… she knows it'll never be that simple.

It isn't residual seawater caught in her ear canal from a quick dip in a lake. It's unending at the bottom of the ocean, gravity pulling down her seaweed-strewn limbs and pressure reverberating inside her eardrums. No matter how hard she tries to reach the the dimming sunbeams above, they only grow fainter and fainter. They're untouchable, unlike the waves and dark currents drowning her in their lull.

She supposes it isn't that bad, to still have a piece of him in any sense. But nothing she can do will bring him back. Having relentless reminders, no matter how healing they may have once been, only hurts. She can't forget him when he's ingrained in her mind, in every little nook and cranny, wrapped around, intertwined...

It's why when it doesn't stop, she has to remind herself it's only an echo. It isn't him trying to fill her up with euphoria, silky hums and melodic iridescence, unraveling the secrets of the universe from behind the stars. It isn't him. It never will be again. But because of this stupid, stupid song she can't get his absence through her hazy head. 

On nights like this, it feels like the only way to end it is to end her; to join her angel in some Great Beyond. But through choked sobs, she almost laughs at the thought. There is no heaven, no hell. Just here. 

She watches the shifting darkness, waiting for her breath to return… 

All that comes is empty notes.