"It was all a mistake!" // didsomeonesayfeels?
A jolt courses through Ezreal’s body at the sudden words and he freezes, keen senses immediately being pulled toward the almost foreign, delicate presence in the home he and the summoner had started making together in the City of Progress, and before she even reveals herself from behind the heavy door of oakwood that leads into their bedroom, he knows she’s crying. He’s not stupid. The cracks in her usually calm and collected vocal cords are a startling blemish on the brunette’s perfect being, or at least, what he’d thought was perfection before he was horribly blindsided by her apparently frigid feet.
Each syllable, each agonizing and repeated apology that topples from the woman’s quivering peach lips feels like a dozen knives being thrust into his back, and the explorer at first refuses to turn around to look her in the eye, wanting her to feel the same form of humiliation that she’d so mercilessly inflicted on him on what was supposed to be the most important day in both of their lives. A soft sigh splits his mouth as he leans down to begin neatly arranging what appears to be a pack of supplies intended for exploration into a knapsack. A plush rollout blanket. Food rations. Various tools and half-used sketchpads. He’s tuning out her pleas and sobs by drowning in his actions, and he’s not going to bother pretending he isn’t. What he has in front of him is all he needs, and he he knows he foolish to think he’d ever needed anything else, especially with the risks he’d taken getting involved romantically with a summoner in the first place.
“…I’m going out, Kam. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Probably not for a while.” He says, not knowing or caring if he interrupts his former-fiancée, numbing himself to the pain pulsing within his chest as he finally turns around, deadened ocean eyes obscured beneath flaxen locks with the strands proving to be an incredibly useful veil.
“Going to Kumungu, I think. Or maybe the desert. Somewhere. Anywhere but here. But you’ll be fine. I left the ring on the dresser so you can sell it if you need some help to get by.” He forces a smile as he lowers his head, avoiding locking eyes with the fellow Piltovian as though single glance would be enough to poison him and send him writhing to the floor until someone was kind enough to put him out of his misery. In actuality, though, he’s simply not ready to gaze into those brilliant orbs again, lest the repressed memories of each passionate night, talk, and feeling they’d shared amongst each other sink back into his head like a potent quicksand.
He finishes packing and throws the pack over his shoulder. It looks effortless, natural, and he shakes his tousled blonde head to get the excess fringe out of his line of sight before he walks forward on quaking knees, vision devoid of any distractions. Though before he can tell his body to say no and instead drink up the unknown possibilities that a new adventure holds, he leans over to press a small kiss to the shivering summoner’s cheek, and the taste of her salt laced tears send a shiver down the weakened length of his spine.
He wants to speak, but no words will come out. Another shuddering sigh does, though, and before his legs can give out on him, he bolts toward the door without another ounce of hesitation or a look back at the girl he’d gone against the odds for and given his everything to.
I wish you would have just told me you weren’t ready, Kam.
Was it that hard to talk to me…?
