your boyfriend has been dead for nine months. you go to visit his memorial.
a/n: i’m sad and needed to vent that somewhere, so it ended up here. inspo is that unsent project image.
The sky is gray, the weather stuck somewhere between misery and hell. Cloudy, dark, dry. The air is lukewarm, too hot for a sweater, but you shiver without one anyways.
You step around a puddle on the sidewalk, head held low. You didn’t put much effort into your appearance. It’s not like you were going to see anybody worth it.
Metropolis is normally a bright city. Full of life, blooming with attractions. Even if it’s corrupt at its core, the people are always what makes the community. Smiles from shopkeepers, waves from children on the street. You used to love it here.
None of it felt quite the same. You feel like you’re dragging your feet to your destination. You’re bone tired, muscles weak and eyes strained. You aren’t far. You blink away the tiredness as it comes to view.
The large stone statue. It has your boyfriend’s face. You stop in front of it and look up.
He looks peaceful. He’s portrayed to be a courageous hero. He’s shown to be standing in the face of danger without fear. He’s meant to reassure the people, to make them feel safe and cared for.
There are tears streaming down your face without you noticing. You flinch as a tear drips to your hand. A small curse slips from you as you raise a hand to your face and rub the tears away. You offer the statue a shy smile.
“Hey, Conner. It’s been a while.” It’s been nine months. Your stomach churns at the thought. It isn’t right. He should still be here beside you. “I miss you, baby.”
More tears slip out. Embarrassed, you rub furiously at your eyes. Here’s your immortalized boyfriend, looking handsome and strong, and you’re crying in front of him. You should have worn that shirt he likes on you, or at least done a little something with your hair.
“I hung out with Bart the other day. I got him to try coffee. We didn’t hang out long, I guess the caffeine overloaded him.” You smile bitterly at the memory. It seems none of you can spend much time together anymore. “Tim’s always busy. I think that just means he doesn’t wanna see us. Cassie’s everywhere all at once, I feel guilty asking her to hang. She barely says yes anyways.”
You pinch at your nose. It’s pathetic. Tears well at your eyes again. Everything fell apart so easily. You choke on a sob, moving your hand to cover your mouth instead. Your friends are distanced now. Even if they still care, they never go out.
You lost the love of your life. Your dear Kon. The man who would mess up your hair the second he saw you. The man who would lick the shell of your ear and tickle your sides if you tried to get out of cuddles. The man who would throw himself in front of rampaging monsters for you. The man who made sure you were never too cold or too hot, who made sure you always had fun, who made sure you were okay after long days.
“Shit, Kon. It’s all gone to shit without you.” Your voice cracks. He’d be making fun of you right now. No he wouldn’t. He’d be rubbing your back and kissing the crown of your head. He’d be trying to crack jokes about his stupid TTK or about how Clark is being overbearing again. You sniffle pathetically. “I’d give anything for you to hold me tight again. I’ll always love you.”
You awkwardly lean against the base of the statue. You give the base a hug, the best comfort you can get. Soon, you’ll have to ask Tim for some kind of device to climb the statue to hug your boyfriend. Maybe an invisible cloak and you climb it yourself. You’re sure to be chased by security if you try to do it in broad daylight.
You leave after a few minutes. You have to. If you don’t, you’ll be standing there in a trance for hours. Back to the same old cycle. Dragging your feet, goosebumps rising from the odd weather. You step around a mysterious puddle on the way home. Your eyesight blurs all over again.
Kon was your fun. Everything is gray and miserable without him. You’ll take a nap when you get home. When you wake up, you’ll make something not nearly nutritious enough, then you’ll go to bed for the night. Then you’ll be back into a depressing life cycle of work, home, repeat, until you drag yourself back to the statue.
Who cares, honestly? Life’s shit. The only way it’d get better is if your boyfriend magically came back to life. Not happening in the next thousand years.
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