#wrong timing

Ultimately: what would be inevitable when the story comes to its final phrase, its end. Schlatt was sure he knew what was his inevitable: marrying the girl he loved. The woman that he'd held for so many nights, cuddling with stupid ass movies serving the couple as background noise whilst the orange tabby laid close by. Just standing where it all used to happen, from when in the early morning she'd force him awake to eat breakfast, to the late evenings where the light of their electronics highlighted the pair's features. Eyes half lidded, like phantoms inhabiting his home, he could still see her figure glowing from the morning light, or bent over laughing like the idiot he loved and adored.

He had to tear his eyes away from his own home, what used to be shared between the two: their home. Her belongings long since swept off the shelves, the lack of dust showing the outlines of where her touch was present. The apartment being in a suffocating silence, a lack of her presence was painfully apparent. Jambo, as brainless as he was, could feel the change and was reduced to mopping around the entrance; waiting for his mom to come home.

But she wouldn't ever be coming back.

Running a hand through mousy, caramel coloured locks, all he could do was let a heavy sigh leave his throat; attempt to keep up his tough guy persona and not let the welling tears fall beyond the brim of his eyes. How would Jambo cope with not having the mother he'd known since adoption? Hell, how would Schlatt cope not having her to be his backbone? The central supporting beam of his whole damn life?

He didn't know, and he didn't know when, or if, he ever would.

Just seeing his little man sit in front of the door, eyes droopy like he was on the verge of sleep but continuing to fight it; not daring to blink and miss her. Dejected mewls escaped him, as if a last ditch plea for Y/n to come back home. He just couldn't take seeing him in such a state, retreating to their once shared office space. The bedroom was too much for him to enter at the minute. Waking up to her side of the bed less sunken in every morning, with her scent slowly disappearing and the cool chill nevermore holding her warmth. The lack of her items that he once chastised for how childish or cute stupid they were; he missed. He missed her and the ungodly amount of stuffed animals that all had their own names and backstories.

The lack of her made the apartment they once bitched and complained about for how small it was seem so impossibly large. The space she took up, literally and figuratively, made him realize that without her left an inconceivable void; one that he was grasping at straws to fill. Just pushing the door open to their shared office/study space made his blood run cold. The desk that rested at the other side of the room horribly bare as if she was never there.

Solemnly, he took a seat in his chair, letting himself sink into it; no clear idea of what to do next in his mind. He couldn't work, no, not when he was like this. Neither was he in the mood to cheer himself up, for the next foreseeable future it seemed as if he would be stuck.

But one day we'll be okay.

Her voice of reassurance pierced through his mind, a reminder she made sure to instil before they parted ways. It repeated and echoed off the corners of his mind, she was so sure as she spoke with those doe eyes glossy with tears. He loved those eyes. And he loved the way she'd always assure him, comfort him through his darkest hours and be the light that lead him through. The light, with its solace and warmth, would be there no matter how far down he fell from grace; or so he thought.

The universe worked in funny ways, notably how he always managed to get the short end of every stick. It was why he supposed he hated his clean shaven face. It reminded him that underneath whatever he may use to mask who he was: he would forever be that frightened teenage boy. The past was something he refused to ever dwell on, but now, possibly suffering the worst blow of his entire life? He couldn't help but feel the suffocation of bad luck. Maybe he was never destined to be truly happy, and that's why despite the both of them completing each other in all the best ways; it was the case of the right person, wrong time.

She was always dedicated to her schooling, he was anxious at the idea of commitment; their relationship didn't work for what they wanted in the minute. She was ready to settle down with him and the thought genuinely scared him. He was barely mid-twenties, he wanted to go out and have his fun but she was too busy to do that kind of thing; neither was she really into it. Her constant studying and strive to her passion made him feel second, never being her number one priority. Despite what he lets on, Schlatt is a soul that suffered from those kind of insecurities. He was too needy for her to handle, and when he let her have her space all it did was leave him feeling unwanted.

The decision to end it was mutual between both parties, but that didn't mean it hurt any less. Regardless of how badly his chest constricted and yearned, no, begged for him to call her up, he knew better. It would only make letting go harder, at least for now, it wasn't meant to be. The wandering thought of if he ever meant the same to her crossed his mind, was she hurting as much as he was?

Yet still, he was sunken in the same old chair he always had been, tears having fallen without his knowledge or consent. He was never favoured by fate, and regardless he still silently prayed to whatever force out there that they'd have a second chance when the time would be right. He'd get whatever it was he needed to out of his system, and despite how selfish, wished that she'd be single and ready when he'd be. That they could pick up where it was once left off. Where he could have his larger frame wrap around her and once again be able to call her 'mine'.

But until that time should come, if ever, he'd be condemned to be alone... Again.