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Edward can't fly.

John has always been his wings, the power that lifted him off the ground and made him defy gravity... none of the winged hi-tops or jackets could make him fly so high as John made him fly. And now he's gone and Edward doesn't dare to try because the ground is hard and he's already struggling.

People come and go, he has seen that. People leave, people die, people disappear... it's not new to him. There was something about John that made him thought that he'd been forever, though. Maybe it was the way he promised he'd always be there for him, maybe it was the way his eyes had flashed when the doctor first time pronounced the word "cancer", maybe it was the way he had fought.... But as he stands at the window running his fingers along raindrops he suddenly realizes that John was just as eternal as drops on the window glass, as fragile as the roses in their backyard.
Edward has cuts from the thorns of those roses on his hands.

It's been a week. It's been a week and he can't fly. The feathers on his wings fall off, he's trying to fly but he can't. He just can't.
The clock ticks on and Edward is crying, maybe he's too weak to bear life but if John was there he'd say it was okay and cuddle him until it really was okay.

Liam said it would get better in time, but how could it ever get? Edward can't catch the stars no matter how hard he tries, the sun only burns a hole trough him and he's invisible, he blends in with the darkness. The sun burned Edward's wings and he's on fire.

It's been a week and three days. Ten days, Edward counts, ten days without John and I can't manage, the world is beautiful when he looks at it from the rooftop of his hotel. It's been too long. He's standing on the roof in John's old wing jacket, his arms spread wide and eyes closed, the wind is playing with his hair and a sudden thought flashes trough his mind... maybe, just maybe, it's meant to be this way, maybe he's meant to at least try. It's been so long and he's afraid. John will always catch him, though, he knows he will. Hasn't he always caught him when he was about to fall?

A flash of silver, white feathers from his wings and the world is silent.

Edward can't fly.