stay with me

She had been gone for so long. She had sent postcards, and all had been okay, even if he had missed her terribly. But he supposed it was all fine, anyway. She would have found herself in a weird place in his life had she been around. While she was gone, he had been forced to marry Ms Irene Stick-In-The-Mud Norwood, and had somehow managed to find himself to happy divorce day, unpoisoned and in possession of all of his genitals. He did not know much about marriage, but he figured that must have meant that he had won at it.

But a victory was never happy without someone to share it with.

Poker games had stopped. With Oliver busy with the Order, Jack busy with Knight’s Watch, Keiran busy with Hogwarts, and Kip busy with the Ministry, none of them had seemed to make their nights of drinking and cardgames much of a priority… which put Gabby out significantly, as those nights had been the markers for the weeks that had begun to bleed together. Max was busy with work as well, and when he wasn’t busy, he opted to stay home. He was beginning to feel as though he has lost his best man to one of his best bros, and it wasn’t a good feeling.

Gabby had already been surrounded with excess. An excess of money, of women, of trouble, of food, of drink. And yes, there had always been an excess of friends. The Order, the Knight’s Watch, drinking buddies, poker friends, the Dyllan-Morrisons. But his obligations to the Order and the Knight’s Watch had found him running in werewolf circles in the hopes of flushing out James Blood and the Blood pack. His drinking buddies were all pressed for time with the World Cup going on, poker friends had been accounted for, and the Dyllan-Morrisons did not seem to have a place for him in their busy lives.

For the first time in his life, Gabriel J. Short III, heir to a fortune, found himself severely wanting.

It had seemed like a miracle for her to show up that night. His Trixie. She was smaller, paler, her hair shorter than usual, face lacking life. He had taken her in immediately and she had crumbled into his arms, tears sliding down her face. He knew he shouldn’t have felt the selfish tickle of happiness to have her in her arms, but it was there, regardless of the circumstances. It was soon doused by fear as he found that she had been somehow damaged. The tears did not stop. He managed to give her food, drink. Helped her bathe. Tucked her into bed and waited by her side.

Three o’clock in the morning, he had awoken to see large blue eyes staring into his. He had fallen asleep in an armchair that he had pulled into his bedroom, and here she was… Trixie. Breathing with him, her hands on his knees as she studied his face. His eyes slipped open, tired, but happy to see her face free of pain, free of the damage she had carried across his threshold. Something of what he remembered of her, from the months before his marriage and her strange disappearance, something of that clung to her expression, tempting a smile.

“Hi,” he breathed.

“You let me in,” she whispered. “I’ve been gone for so long and you let me in.”

He smiled, a bit goofy from affection and exhaustion. “Always.”

The next few hours were great. Between the lovemaking, the two held each other close, reminding each other of how important the other was to the world, how important they were to each other. Gentle kisses, lusting touches, kind reminders… In a matter of hours, Gabby had gone from the loneliness goof that walked the earth, to the happiest one. For years, the secret longing for Trixie had grown, out of lust and into something much more, something much grander. And now, she was in his arms, and she knew. He hadn’t said it, but she must have known.

Morning.

He stirred and stretched out across the bed, noticing his companion’s absence. “Trixie?” He rolled out of bed, quickly pulling on the first clothes he spotted. He strolled into his kitchen, adjusting his sleeves. “Making me breakfast?” Not there. “Trixie?” She wasn’t in the living room either. Shower? He headed back to the bathroom. “Trixie?” He knocked on the door. “Trixie.” He pushed the door open.

Across the mirror. In her signature pink lipstick. I’m so sorry. I love you, Gab, but you won’t be letting me in again. I love you. I love you. Good bye.


Knock. Knock. Knock.

It was raining. Hardly seven in the morning and a small storm had brewed up and was currently trying to drown him on the doorstep. Gabby, in more ways than one, resembled a wet dog, head hanging low as the droplets of water rolled down his face and hair hanging around his neck, almost looking like tears, but there were no tears. His arms hung at his side, after knocking on a door that he had not seen in a few weeks, a door he had not planned to see.

Because, for the first time in his happy life, Gabby was being forced to deal with a broken heart. And, somehow, he thought his ex-wife might be able to help.