lone star | Peter Quill
Summary: the aftermath of a life altering fight.
A/N: cross posted on my wattpad in honor of my Peter Quill collection hitting 105K and being #1 in fandom imagines.
The Milano drifted through the dark expanse of space, an echo of loneliness amid the vast, indifferent cosmos. Inside, the Guardians had all mostly fallen silent, each wrapped in their own private turmoil. Peter sat alone in the cockpit, his gaze fixed on the shimmering stars beyond. He could hardly see them through the blur of his tears.
You had tried to find solace in the endless reaches of the universe, hoping that time and distance would heal the fractures in your relationship with Peter. But the galaxy had a cruel way of amplifying pain rather than mending it.
The argument that had torn you apart replayed in Peter’s mind with relentless cruelty. It had been a shouting match, born from frustration and unspoken fears. The kind of argument that left scars deeper than any physical wound could ever imagine.
"I can’t keep doing this, Peter!" you had yelled, your voice breaking off near the end. "We’re not the same people we used to be. We’re suffocating each other."
Peter had tried to hold on, but his attempts to reach out only drove you further away. "I don’t know how to fix this!" he had shouted back, desperation and vulnerability lacing his words. "I thought we’d make it work. I thought… I thought you were my forever."
Your departure from the cockpit was a crushing silence, each step echoing the finality of the end. You retreated to a other room for the night, avoiding his eyes as you passed him in the narrow corridors of the ship. It felt like an entire lifetime had collapsed into those few moments.
Now, alone in the cockpit, Peter replayed the memory of your last moments together, unable to escape the crushing realization of how far he had let things fall apart. The words you’d exchanged seemed to float around him like specters, haunting and accusing.
He had tried to convince himself that breaking up was the right thing, that it was necessary for both of you to find yourselves. But every moment spent apart made the agony of that decision sink deeper into his soul, eating away at him as the seconds ticked by.
He reached for a familiar object—a mixtape, a relic from when things were simpler, when every song seemed to speak of a bright future together. He had made it for you, filled with songs that once made you both smile and dance. Now, it was just a reminder of how broken things had become.
The first notes of the mixtape played, each song a sharp reminder of your shared past. The lyrics, once full of promise and joy, now twisted into cruel echoes of what could have been. Peter buried his face in his hands, overwhelmed by the weight of his regret and sorrow.
He had hoped that time would make things easier, that the pain would eventually dull. But as he sat alone in the cockpit, the cold, sterile environment of the ship seemed to mock him, emphasizing the chasm between you that he could never truly bridge. Every star outside the window felt like a distant, unreachable point of light, reflecting the void left by your absence.
In the quiet of the Milano, the reality settled in: the space between you was not just physical but emotional and irrevocable. And as the stars glimmered coldly in the infinite void, Peter was left with nothing but the haunting silence of what once was and a broken heart that nothing in the cosmos could ever mend.
