Here’s the thing:
Claude Abney is dead.
Claude is dead, and Atticus is alive. It isn’t fair, and it isn’t right, but it is what it is, and so they find themself alone yet again.
(you would think that after so many times they would’ve been used to it already, but they still sleep on the right side of the bed and they still wear his shirts and they still put out two cups of tea when they wake up.)
They go to work. They go to work and stay longer than the should, and leave later than they should, because they don’t have a reason to go home. They take walks late at night and forget to bring a coat, and they eat out more often that not.
They try to go home, and they find themself standing in front of his door, and then they sleep in his bed. And then they wake up in his shirt, and if they don’t open their eyes, they can almost pretend that he’s there. That maybe, he's just in the kitchen humming to himself.
And then they do it the next day, and the