you could walk away
or you could stay:: what's it going to be?
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He wants to walk away. More than anything, he wants to just walk away from this hell-hole of a life and never come back. He wants to turn his back on the girl in front of him, the beautiful, beautiful girl, and not look back— not once.

But he doesn’t, because her voice is cracking and the tears are rolling and it’s pulling at things inside of him, whispers that tell him he’s got to help, because if he leaves her, he’ll leave behind something fragile and broken, like glass. He remembers a time when he broke a windowpane and all she said was, here, we’ll just get a new one, but she’s not something he could easily replace, because she’s one-of-a-goddamned-kind.

And while he’s thinking this she’s just standing there in front of him, with the tears and the crack that’s slowly running down her face, down her neck, across her skin, and it’s branching off with new cracks until he’s afraid she’ll fall to pieces. He thinks he might be able to put her back together, because he knows that skin, every inch of it, and he knows where all the parts come together— maybe, with the right kind of glue, he can.

oh. well.
total oneminuteinspiration fic.

because those are the best, really.
-------kthanks--checkerboxed