sunflower heart.

warm sand weaves between her toes as she approaches, and then she plops down next to him with two little plastic pineapples in hand. the paper umbrella and twisty straw that garnishes them leaves a subtle grin upon her countenance.  

the harshness in her tone strikes a wake up call in him ; waves of guilt engulf his countenance. his avid intent on trying to suppress and avoid coming to terms with the loss of rory and having to face amy again has finally caught up to him. he’s spent far too long running away—however for some reason, unbeknownst to him, he cannot run from her. it is always amelia pond.    ❛    i know … erm …    ❜  a pause,    ❛    amy, i know you’re upset with me.    ❜    so ignorant of him to say—dangerous, even.

 i know i’m late. please forgive me.

her lip quivers and her teeth clench at his words. she can hear the anguish in his voice — the guilt. it only hurts her more. she wants to forgive him right then & there ; but immediately that feeling is met with a memory. rory. his smile. his laugh. his dumb gorgeous eyes that lit up whenever they met hers. extinguished. and it’s HIS fault.

tightly, amy shuts her eyes. she can’t even bear to look at him. her throat gets caught in what she wants to say, and then she feels burning. it starts in her stomach, then rises through her chest and into her throat. her eyes well with tears & she shoots up from her seat, and whirls around to face him.

this is the story of amelia pond.  & this is how it ends.