It’s been a few months since the Guardians had officially moved to Knowhere. Their ships were docked here and left unattended unless they had to go somewhere, though that would be more rare every day.
Truly, they’d done a great job on Knowhere. It’s become a home for many families, including them.
The planet is provided with everything you need and more. Even now, the Guardians are still working on adding stuff. Like a garden, for example. Groot was the one who’d suggested it and the rest of the team was enthusiastic about the idea.
Peter hates the garden.
He hasn’t actually stopped by. He knows Groot wishes he did.
It reminds him too much of her.
She loved flowers. She would’ve loved this garden, cared for it.
So he hates it.
Today, it was the official opening of said garden. Peter was genuinely proud of Groot, he’d done it all on his own, yet he couldn’t get himself to come. He tried, he really did — but his legs ended up taking him where they did every day: the bar.
The bar was nearly empty. Presumably, everyone was actually doing something with their lives instead of drinking themselves to sleep at 4 in the afternoon. Well tough shit, at least he kept the bar running.
He tries not to think about what Gamora would think if she were to see him like this. He knows what she’d do. She’s the one who got him through it after Ego, she took care of him like no other.
When Thanos haunted her mind, Peter would be there for her in turn. But not when it had actually matted. He pulled the trigger at her one moment, and just like that, Thanos smirk loomed over him as he took her away.
He told her he’d protect her from him. He failed.
She knew he would fail, so she asked him to kill her instead. He failed that too.
He quickly downs another beer.. his 7th? 9th? He has no idea. “‘Nother one!” He yells out.
Perhaps if he has enough he won’t kill her in his dreams tonight. Maybe the memories of slow mornings, dancing together, their shared vacation and loving nights will come back.
The flash of green out of the corner of his eye makes his head turn so fast he might’ve gotten a whiplash if not for the alcohol limiting his reflexes. His hand reaches out and latches on tightly, “G’mora?”
He looks up only to be met with…. the server. Her green shirt — that isn’t even the same green as Gamora’s skin — seems to be the only resemblance of her on the girl.
The girl looks at him with pity, and he realizes this must’ve happened before. He mutters an insincere apology and snatches the beers from her.
He brings to bottle to his lips and gulps it down in one go, beer spilling over his shirt onto his lap. He grumbles, doesn’t even care if it ends up ruining his Zune.
He glances down, the Zune isn’t even strapped to his hip apparently. He must’ve either left it in his room or Rocket has it. Either way, he doesn’t care. He hates that thing.
Music used to be filled with memories of his mother. They were bittersweet and he loved sharing it with Gamora.
Now, all that’s left from his music is agony. His heart aches with every song he hears, all he can think about is her.
Peter is glad he doesn’t have his walkman anymore, otherwise he’d just start hating that too.
A sob erupts from his body. Guilt washes over him. He doesn’t mean that. He doesn’t hate his music and he misses his mom and Gamora more than anything. Anger is easier to turn to than whatever emptiness is in his heart.
He loves Gamora so much.
But it hurts. So much.
He’s a mess, he knows. Tears streaming down his face, hair greasy and his clothes are stained with beer. When was the last time he even showered?
He decides he doesn’t care. He reaches out for another drink, only to find he’s already finished everything in his booth. He’s about to call out and ask for more when he feels a firm hand on his shoulder.
He turns around and is met with Nebula, accompanied by Drax. He knows what’s about to happen, more than familiar with this. Sometimes he fights, yells, runs, and sometimes he does nothing.
The latter is what’s happening today. He lets them drag him away, barely able to walk. Just a few more and he’d been dozing off.
If he squeezes his eyes closed, hard enough until it hurts, he could pretend the arm wrapped around his shoulder belongs to Gamora. The way his nose would brush against her hair, her voice his favorite sound in the world and her warmth becoming an extension of his own.
No matter how hard he tries to fool himself, that void cannot be filled. He opens his eyes and she’s not there. Just like every night.
He feels Nebula tug harshly at his arm and he growls. Gamora would never, he thinks bitterly.
He still lets them drag him out, back to his cold and lonely room. He hates his room. It’s been years since he had one of his own and he has no idea how he did it before. How his life ever felt okay without her.
The streets are busy and he senses the eyes on him. He doesn’t care. Let them see.
He grumbles again. Nebula seems to have recognized his annoyance and hisses at him to shut up, to not cause a scene around them.
It doesn’t matter anyway. He’ll just be back here tomorrow.