hey you

[rhys alexander greyback]

but it was only fantasy

the wall was too high,
as you can see

May 13, 2028

Rhys’ eyes welled up, leaving streaks down his face. Were these tears from heartbreak Rhys had desperately avoided? Or just the result of this sad little hole he’d dug himself into. Or perhaps it had something to do with the blood running down his face from his nose. Breathing through his mouth, he leaned forward over the sink. Magical or muggle, there was nothing quite like a punch to the face. And for once, Rhys could confidently claim he did not start it this time. Not that he could remember much through the fog of the last hour. And the whiskey helped numb everything to a point. Looking in his bathroom mirror, the bags under his eyes seemed to blend into the bruising beginning to form around the bridge.

Slowly, he moved his hand away. If Vasilia were here, she would have taken care of him. But she wasn’t. At least Archer had gotten him home before passing out on the couch. The one person in his life who wouldn’t lecture him on drinking or fighting or whatever was at hand. The dull throbbing in the center of his face wasn’t even the worst pain. Rhys tried to focus on his reflection, at the blood running from his nose and the misery in his eyes. He couldn’t shake that feeling of déjà vu when none of this was the same. Nothing was the same. Saffron wasn’t here to chastise him, and Rhys had to hide this part of himself from his young daughter. But he was alone—and that felt familiar, almost like home.

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