#it's the ocverse with a random backstory drop woohoo!

[lizardperson]

4261 days

[on ao3]

fandom: original work rating: m cw: suicide mention, grief, drinking/alcohol abuse wc: 691 prompt: #fff257 count the days for @flashfictionfridayofficial

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Have a pleasant trip. You may smoke, you may drink, you may dance You may die. We may even land oneday. [Flight One, by Gwendolyn MacEwen]

One day since she left. Daria knows she's supposed to be in pain right now, but it barely hurts. There's just numbness. Hardly any feelings at all. It's fine, she'll manage. She has to.

Seven days since she left. Daria functions. She has to. There are so many things that need to be done when one's spouse dies, you don't have much time to think anyway. Still barely any pain. She doesn't even cry at the funeral, just keeps busy, comforts the other mourners. Gives her eulogy, talks about what a wonderful person Fiona was. This will be the last time she says her name out loud for many, many years to come, but she doesn't know that yet. It's fine, she'll manage. She has to.

Twelve days since she left. Daria functions. She has to. Goes to work, buys groceries, keeps appointments. Thanks people for their condolences, tries to keep those talks short, they are awkward for everyone involved anyway. "I'm sorry for your loss." She smiles, says thank you. I'm sorry your wife killed herself. Thank you, it was nice seeing you, goodbye.

22 days since she left. The pain finally arrives, suddenly, at night, explodes right into her heart. Daria cries for hours, falls asleep exhausted, wakes up, cries again. Curls herself into a ball on the floor, cries some more. It hurts so much, and she has no idea how she will ever pick herself up from the floor again.

23 days. 24 days. 25 days. Why did you leave me. 26 days. 27 days. 28 days. Why wasn't I enough. 29 days.

30 days since she left. Daria functions again. She has to. Throws herself into work, tries to distract herself from the pain. The days are okay, mostly. The nights rarely are.

117 days since she left. Daria functions. Work numbs the pain during the day, scotch numbs the pain at night. It's fine, she'll manage. She has to.

365 days since she left. Daria doesn't visit the grave, she fears she might want to lie down beside it and never get up again. Die by her side. I miss you. Why couldn't I help you.

730 days since she left. Daria always assumed by now the pain would be gone somehow, or at least diluted enough to bear it. She's wrong. That night she drinks herself into unconsciousness, and part of her is almost disappointed that she wakes up again the next day.

1825 days since she left. Why does it still hurt. Daria functions. She has to. She wishes she wouldn't.

2767 days since she left. Daria is used to the pain by now, it's almost like an old friend. It will always be there. Other people see it too, it's like a cloud hanging around her head. They pity her. She's still grieving? Hasn't it been years by now? Yes. She's still grieving. After all these years. But it's fine, she manages. She has to. Life goes on, somehow. She wishes it wouldn't.

3045 days since she left. Daria moves to a new city. People still see the cloud of sadness around her, but at least here they don't know. They don't pity her. She befriends her neighbor, occasionally socializes with her colleagues. The nights are still hard sometimes. But it's fine, she manages. She has to.

3658 days since she left. Daria realizes she doesn't think about her every single day anymore. She even smiles sometimes, and means it. She looks forward to getting up in the morning sometimes. Spending time with her neighbor helps. It still hurts, but there are times when she thinks one day it might not anymore. It's fine, she manages.

4261 days since she left. Daria looks at July, her neighbor, who fell asleep next to her while they were watching a movie, just as she did so many nights before. Daria thinks one day she might actually be happy again. She's fine, she manages. Because she wants to.