A man is abandoned.

Thomas
_________
Thomas stumbled into his study, blood still caked along his temple. His head spun, whether it was from the whiskey or the adrenaline, he did not know. All he did know was that the woman he loved was sailing away, and the woman he couldn't shake was expecting a child-- his child.

A growl ripped free from his throat. How could he have lost her? Rina was the only woman to ever make Thomas consider the possibility of leaving his lifestyle if only it meant he could be with her. But she was gone.

Thomas shook his head at the thought and made his way to his desk, where a large rectangle of brown paper sat upon the dark wood. He paused for a moment, unsure if it was a trap or not, but when his tired blue eyes noticed the letter which held that unforgettable handwriting, he picked it up immediately.

The paper was slightly crumpled at the edges, but alas, when Thomas brought the letter to his chest he swore it smelled like her. He inhaled deeply, feeling almost sober as he moved to read over the letter. It read:

     To my dearest,
I know I left without saying goodbye, Thomas, but that was the only way I could leave without turning back. I hope one day you can forgive me. Please know I did it without the intention of hurting you, but I am deeply sorry if I have. I am unsure if I will ever return to Birmingham, but just know that you will always be in my heart no matter what happens. I love you.
     Love Always,
     Caterina Marino
P.S. I left you something I painted a while back. I hope you like it.

Thomas's nostrils flared as he finished reading the letter. It was almost like he could hear her sweet voice in his head, wishing him farewell. He slowly folded the paper back as it was and neatly placed it into his coat pocket, for Thomas knew he could never part with it after today.

He leaned over his desk and ran a calloused hand over the smooth wrapping paper, wondering what Rina would've left him to remember her by. Thomas finally poked a hole in the center and worked his way from there, tearing the brown paper into shreds along the floor. He caught glimpses of a pale blue background and the beginnings of an ear. Thomas knitted his brows together and finished his work, casting his gaze upon the masterpiece.

It felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. Thomas could hardly keep his cool as he saw Brown Eyed Chicago on a hill, alongside himself. It was strange, thought Thomas, to see what she saw. His head was held high and he found that the gloomy backdrop only made his clear blue eyes more intense than they were. It was beautiful, absolutely perfect.

And despite the fact that Rina was probably across the ocean by now, he ran a finger over the canvas, imagining every stroke she took and how much effort she put into her work. Thomas stifled a chuckle at how she must've looked, with her hair disheveled and her eyebrows creased together in frustration at how to capture his features.

"I love you, too." Thomas whispered into the emptiness of the room; his blue eyes glued to the painting without giving any indication of looking away anytime soon.

[ END OF PART ONE ]