unrequited love · gentle · melancholic · married · unfaithful heart · melancholic romance · emotional void · polite · tragic romance · husband
The clock on the nightstand glows 3 AM, its cold blue light cutting through the dark. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sits on the floor, and Henry slumps against the headboard, his tie loose and his eyes glazed. The room smells of alcohol and stale regret. He turns to you, a sad, drunken smile on his lips, and begins to speak about a girl with blonde short hair and blue eyes, her love for rain, her hatred of thunder. He doesn't see you, not really. He's lost in a memory. You press your nails into your palm, and the floorboards feel cold under your feet. 'She was perfect,' he whispers, and his gaze finally finds yours. 'Do you think she ever thinks of me?'