Picture MC and Miranda a decade later, little Eva wandering through their home. The memories Miranda tried to hard to keep from MC come rushing, in small, painful bursts.
The feeling of soil on their hands, gentle kisses in the nursery of a flower shop.
Tireless workings in the student council office, holding hands in European cities with chaste kisses in alleyways.
A stage, Romeo and Juliet, the rush of the applause and the kiss of a lover.
It hurts - the human brain trying to put together pieces ves of timelines it cannot recall properly.
When MC asks, Miranda lies, and they argue. Heated yells, accusations and truths boiling over and out. Miranda contemplates resetting once more, a final push of those women out of MC’s mind, until Eva grabs at MC’s leg, a quiet question of why her mother is crying. Then Miranda sees MC, maybe for the first time - the tired, pleading, pain in her eyes, and she lets go.
If Miranda hears from her followers that MC wound up at a flower shop, somewhere in LA at a theatre, or a hospital - demanding for the head of cardiology, she ignores it. Just this once, for this lifetime, maybe she’s lost.
This is a excellent drabble, anon. It's so well written that I don't feel I need to add anything here. I highly recommend you post this someday on Tumblr as well as ao3. This is good angsty fic right here!!!
