Those words haunt him...for he had thought the same. Once she died, it was over, so he just marched to his own death—albeit sooner than planned.
And...she's also likely right. Doesn't matter if they are in another world, they've burned each other so deeply, those wounds wouldn't just magically disappear. It doesn't matter if they know what they do now.
Perhaps this is exactly where things should end. Where they should go their separate ways, regardless of the tension, the draw, that pull that still exists between them. Let their worn souls rest. Move on. Stop hurting each other. And he's about to say as much when his eye catches something on her bed. He hadn't noticed it before in the darkness, but perhaps all the wind disturbs it enough to make itself known.
It leaves him frozen for a moment before he looks back at her.]
...Nothing, you say?
[And he'll walk over and grab her phone, holding it up so that the little duck charm can spin in its full glory. The case she could have kept out of practicality, but the charm?]
Then why hold onto this?
[His eyes are hardened now as he also recalls all of his unanswered texts. How they were always read almost immediately and still went through. How she might have ignored him, but never told him to stop. And now that his head isn't spinning about the pains of their past, he recalls of the day they spent together. Sure, it was more like a "truce," but it was the first time they were actually friendly.
Whatever it was remains unclear, but one that was certain—it showed a possibility. A possibility he should just ignore, but he's a stubborn old fool. Both of them.]
no subject
Those words haunt him...for he had thought the same. Once she died, it was over, so he just marched to his own death—albeit sooner than planned.
And...she's also likely right. Doesn't matter if they are in another world, they've burned each other so deeply, those wounds wouldn't just magically disappear. It doesn't matter if they know what they do now.
Perhaps this is exactly where things should end. Where they should go their separate ways, regardless of the tension, the draw, that pull that still exists between them. Let their worn souls rest. Move on. Stop hurting each other. And he's about to say as much when his eye catches something on her bed. He hadn't noticed it before in the darkness, but perhaps all the wind disturbs it enough to make itself known.
It leaves him frozen for a moment before he looks back at her.]
...Nothing, you say?
[And he'll walk over and grab her phone, holding it up so that the little duck charm can spin in its full glory. The case she could have kept out of practicality, but the charm?]
Then why hold onto this?
[His eyes are hardened now as he also recalls all of his unanswered texts. How they were always read almost immediately and still went through. How she might have ignored him, but never told him to stop. And now that his head isn't spinning about the pains of their past, he recalls of the day they spent together. Sure, it was more like a "truce," but it was the first time they were actually friendly.
Whatever it was remains unclear, but one that was certain—it showed a possibility. A possibility he should just ignore, but he's a stubborn old fool. Both of them.]