❛ don’t push me away. ❜
Persephone absolutely hates this.
When the freezing winds are climbing up to their peak of brutality, her moods keep rolling out of her control, damn fast. There have been better days, but right now must be one of the darkest wintertime-sadness moments the goddess of spring has to face. She has locked herself away in her and Hades’s shared bedroom since the morning, with an empty stomach, and a face swollen up from crying.
She can’t even tell exactly where all of these tears come from. Probably because of the wilted rose sitting gloomily on the nightstand, because of the lack of sunlight, or because she misses her mother. But what’s the point of figuring it out, now that Persephone’s got herself exhausted from bawling her eyes out for hours?
Hades, as the best husband of the universe he is, has kept knocking on the locked bedroom door to check her out every thirty minutes; every time he’s done so, what he’s got was nothing but a muffled “Not now” from her. That makes Persephone feels like the most terrible wife ever, and the vicious cycle would begin again.
Finally, with Hades’ heartbreaking saying, the goddess musters the physical strength she needs to get up, walks to the door, and unlocks it for her husband to get in. Her face must look horrible from all the violent crying, Persephone believes, so a tiny “I’m sorry...” escapes her before she quickly turns away from Hades, holding her face with her both hands in shame.