Time had passed, and though the pain became easier to deal with there was still something missing within him. He couldn’t shake her from his thoughts, she was always right at the forefront; and though he knew better by this point, it was an innate reaction that he seemed to have lost all control over. Every passing day, he would lose a little more hope, and with that slide closer to an approved state of normalcy; but it didn’t change anything, he still waited… He waited for that night, when she would call him, and he would know, that it would be ok, and in her voice he would find warmth and comfort once—he would find that home he fought so hard for. Was it in the stars though? Was he just feeding in to a maddening fantasy?
There was no desire to meet anyone else, he grew content with each amount of hope that would dissipate, that he was better off alone, than with anyone other than her. What a sad and foolish thought. Reserved to the feelings and thoughts of a golden yester-year there was no actualization of this love ever to come, a fact he wasn’t blind to, but rather one he wasn’t willing to fully accept. It had always been his role to guide others through these types of ordeals, and there was the eventuality that things did indeed get better, but he could see major differences between the situations; never had he known others to love and care for another person as much as he did for her. Though this made the situation somewhat different, it was his crutch he relied on; with its aid he was able to hold on to a fleeting thought that would never come to fruition.
She loved him, but that loved had changed. She sought refuge in the comfort of other men, but still for whatever reason relied on his support and care, a selfish act. Was it out of genuine concern, or had she just felt guilty enough to play this much into his emotions?