Throwback Playlist:AVRIL LAVIGNE | My Happy Ending (2004)

throwback playlist: AVRIL LAVIGNE | My Happy Ending (2004)

The real truth.

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la notte che è morta // copia x gn!reader

sfw. 880 words. grief/anxiety. not comfort heavy but a loving reader listening to copia share his feelings about that night in LA.

thanks to @gothdaddyissues and @wrathofrats for the dividers ♡︎

"It's funny, love. That night. The night she–" He doesn't finish the sentence, and you watch him as his eyes scan the distance as though he's searching for the words in the air. It's the evenings he struggles with most; you often find him here, sitting on one of the large concrete steps leading down through the gardens, on the particularly difficult ones. "I didn't want to take off my shoes."

"Your shoes?" you ask, tilting your head curiously and brushing a stray piece of thread from his hair. "Why your shoes, amore?"

Copia looks at you, and his face softens slightly. He studies yours for a second, touched and grounded by the affection with which you tend to him, until his eyes flicker away again.

"It was all such a blur," he starts, shaking his head as he recalls that night. "I don't even remember how I got to the hotel room. But I remember they kept trying to make me lay down, get undressed, go to bed. And it all felt so foolish."

Your eyes move to his furrowed brow, then down to his slightly open mouth. You watch the way he unconsciously runs his tongue along the back of his bottom teeth, how his jaw clenches slightly in the way it often does when he's uncomfortable; you resist the urge to bring your hand to it, to stroke his face and hold him close. You want to give him the space to keep talking when he starts to open up like this, as though any sudden movement will spook him like a skittish animal and he'll disappear again.

"All those little things. I thought, what is the point of it? I suppose part of me thought if I don't do this first, then they can't make me do that," he shakes his head. "I don't know, amore. It's silly."

"It isn't silly at all," you say earnestly, and Copia meets your gaze. "You were reacting in the moment to something none of us are equipped for."

He considers your words for a moment, takes a deep breath and gathers himself to continue.

"I just–It felt like all of those little steps were leading towards the end."

"The end of what?"

He sighs, running his hand through his greying hair and scratching the back of his head a few times. You can tell he's hesitating, still slightly self-conscious about what he's telling you.

"Of the day. Going to sleep was–I couldn't go to sleep because that would mean the day was over. It would mean that she was…" He stops himself. He can't say it. There's a pained determination on his face that breaks your heart, but you stay silent.

"And I know that… I knew that. I knew that she was–I watched it happen, amore, but–"

You can feel the anxiety in him rising. You see it in the way his leg is shaking next to yours, and this time, you can't help but put a grounding hand on his thigh, rubbing it softly and giving a gentle squeeze. Copia stills. His eyes find yours, and for a moment, the sadness in them looks set to overflow. But then he smiles, a small and weary smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He takes your hand from his leg and brings your knuckles to his lips, kissing them gently. Then he holds them there, softly brushing his lips against your skin.

"I knew she was dead," he says firmly, lowering your hand to his lap and holding it in both of his. "But there was a time during that day when she was still alive, amore, and I thought… If I let the day end now, there will never be–" he inhales sharply. "There will never be another day where she's alive."

The word comes out in a choked whisper, and Copia's head falls forward after saying it. Your eyes begin to sting with the threat of incoming tears, but you're brought out of it by the sound of him clearing his throat.

"There will never be another day where she's alive," he states, raising his head to look forward again. His voice is steadier this time, but he says it almost as though he's trying to get the message through his own head.

"Copia," you whisper, taking your hand from his and putting your arms around him. He instinctively wraps his around your waist, pulling you close and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You remember that night. That morning, really. You think of it more often than you would ever tell him. When you were awoken by a frantic call from Ashley. The way you had lost your temper as you begged her to put him on the phone. The feeling of the breeze on your skin as you stumbled out onto the balcony, desperate to reach the fresh air when the bedroom walls caved in. His smell on the robe you put on in a desperate attempt to have him close to you. The sound of his broken voice and the choked, heaving sobs when you finally heard from him.

The steady pattern of his breathing when he eventually fell asleep, somewhere over the ocean, still wearing his shoes.

inspired partly by personal experience and partly by the song 'lucky for you' by novo amor + gia margaret ♡︎

and i'm not what i thought i would be without you i'm not really sure why i slept in my shoes i'm nothing at all

ALIEN Franchise (1979-2024) + Protagonist

He Is - Madrid, Spain | 08/05/2022