a random lil work i’ve never finished and prolly never will but i reread it and idk how i wrote this. i also don’t know where i was going with it 🤪 so enjoy my 2 1/2 yr old unfinished fic
it’s based off the song “tattoo” by tyler childers. i now know it’s abt an ex having his name tattooed but i didn’t at the time and took it more metaphorically like “i left a mark on her”
I am now the one she left
A haunted tale for someone else
Someone told him that love was a destiny, that someone out there was waiting for him and they would be all he needed and would never leave. He thought that was how love worked, when times were rough, it didn’t matter. They were meant to be, so they would get over it. Maybe in a perfect world, but that’s not where he lives.
He was sure she would tell her next lover about him. How he left her alone, nights on end. Never called, couldn’t be bothered to text. He was sure she spoke of him like a horror story, and he couldn’t bring himself to be mad.
He wonders if she’ll tell them about how they met, both times. If she’ll tear up when she speaks about their fight, their villain, their losses, like she did with him.
A little bit about herself
He didn’t know where she went. Figured leaving her alone was the least he owed her after the hurt he put her through. He heard she was doing well from their mutual friends, though they never told him directly, always in a passing conversation, with a sharp glance his way to see what he had heard. He had practically perfected the look of ignorance.
He wonders about her sometimes. How she finally got the courage to leave him. It was a long time coming and he had been given too many chances to change. He could blame it on his isolation. Could say it was the way he was raised, really there was no reason, he just thought love would persevere and he wasn’t needed to make sure it did.
Flint strikes out to pierce the dark
Cause a flame from just one spark
Fill the room with smoke so harsh
She was sitting alone. A metal bucket filled with their life. Pictures, notes, and all the other things they had shared, a life stretching back into her teenage years. She doesn’t understand what she did wrong. Why he ignored her, moved on so quickly. She wonders if he talks about her. Wonders if it's ever going to be okay again. She doesn’t know the answer, but she knows that it can’t happen in Paris.
She’s changed. She didn’t know what did it, but it was there. It was obvious to everyone around her. Everyone except him that is. He treated her the same, as if they hadn’t been through hell together, expected her to pack up her heart just like he did.
Maybe it was Hawkmoth. Maybe it was the miraculous, maybe it was the Order when they took them away. Something inside her was gone. Her entire purpose for years was just a waste and now she was left with too much to think about.
She lights a match, dropping it into the bucket. She breathes in the smoke, as if her lungs weren’t damaged enough, and she exhales the memories.
That’s all that was left now. All they had were memories.
Over time, but it's still hangin' on for life
Some days they didn’t replay their teenage years in their heads on repeat. Some days they were just normal adults that didn’t think about how much they had sacrificed for a city that would never know. Even if they knew how to tell them, no one would believe them. The price of a secret identity.
Little girls don’t wear pigtails as often anymore. Black cats are slowly becoming more and more common on the streets. No one talks about it. The city never healed, not really. They pushed their past aside and moved on. The Ladyblog was archived deep on Alya’s computer. One day, she’ll look at it and wonder why she saved it, erasing two people’s hardest struggle. News sites took down their footage, best not to dwell. In a generation or two, no one will know why the city is covered in ladybugs and black cats.
There’s a girl with dolls sitting on her shelf, her favorite babysitter made them for her, how could she throw them away? There’s one random day in March that everyone stays home with their families, though the children don’t know why. They want to forget so much that they don’t realize how much they remember.
He is now the one she needs
He is now the one she leans on
She looks out at the sunset
High above Paris, they told each the biggest truth they each held. They sputtered some mess about masks and true selves and, dimly, somewhere in their mind, they remember a Literature lecture about the three masks a person can wear. It didn’t change anything and yet it changed everything.
On a quilt of rags he holds her tight
And they raise a toast of Bulleit Rye
Whiskey kills all things in time
Like things she don't remember
Over time, but it's still hanging on for life
I am now an old headstone
To her grave, I'll die alone
A testament of how she's grown
Over time, but it's still hanging on for life
