Holy Rome wasn't coming back.
I coughed back a gasp at the sudden thought. But it
it was true, wasn't it? He'd been gone for so long. Hundreds and hundreds of years, I'd waited for him to come back to me. If he was still out there somewhere, it wouldn't have taken him that long to find me. Right?
I had to move on.
The idea terrified me. My entire life I'd spent just yearning for him; that was how I lived. Eat breakfast. Holy Rome. Go to work. Holy Rome. Crawl into bed alone, every single night
Holy Rome. I didn't know how to live any other way. Was it even possible? I struggled to remember a time when he hadn't grazed my every thought.
God. Holy Rome not coming home? The thought had never even occurred to me. I looked back now on all that time I'd wasted on that beautiful boy. I'd closed myself off, hadn't I? I saw that now. I must have hurt so many people. My brother came to mind
He deserved someone better than I had been, didn't he?
I deserved better, too. I couldn't live like I wasn't alive anymore.
There was another man. He was no Holy Rome, for certain. His cheekbones didn't give off that fiery blush, and his hands didn't have that gentle touch, and he didn't roll his r's when he spoke. In contrast, he was serious. A scowl had permanently worked its way into his eyebrows. He tried so hard to be meticulously flawless, something he didn't always achieve.
But he was determined, and strong, and certainly handsome. Under his cold fašade there was a quiet person who really just wanted someone warm to sit next to. And in his search for perfection, I always caught a glimpse the imperfect side of him; the one that laughed when I did and taught me how to tie my shoes and let me lie next to him when the Austrian Wars became all too vivid in my nightmares.
He wasn't my Holy Rome. Then again, no one could ever be. No one's lips could ever pierce me that far.
But maybe he was good enough.