the space between

[Laruku Tears]

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It was a nice idea, really, and the cynicism must have burned deep for him to be standing against it now when the other man seemed so excited. There was always something left. It didn't matter if all of the physical evidence evaporated with time or that the setting of their entire past had burned up behind them -- residual memories never left and the sharp pain of previous mistakes never really healed. Even when scars roughed over and he couldn't feel them anymore; they were there. And there was always something left to lose. Laruku flinched again at the touch (it was so unnatural), but smiled, though it was a weak and sad smile (any other smile did not belong to him). I do, he replied, looking at Ahren's bad eye.



The rest of my head. And the rest of his heart -- the blackened and broken shards of his neglected heart that he often claimed no longer really existed. But it had to still be there because he could feel it in his chest, thundering along wildly even while he stood shock still. His tail twitched and he was restless. This was too much deja vu; this was too much like other conversations he thought he could remember. What do you really want, Ahren? What are you going to now that you have nothing to lose? It was a lie. They would always have themselves to lose.

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