Grief has an end. You cry until there are no tears are left, and then, slowly, you remember how to breathe again.
But waiting for someone is a kind of dying that never finishes.
You cannot mourn what has not been lost. You cannot move forward when you do not know if they are ever coming back to you.
So…
You stay.
You wait.
And you wonder if hope is a kindness or a curse.
* * *
"Heeuk–!!"
Swing–!! Slash–!
BAAM–!!
"HOW COULD YOU?!"
Ethan screamed at the top of his lungs. He fixed his once bloodied hand, and with his eyes clouded with blood, he glared at the blond haired man lavishly floating in front of him.
Dreamweaver was in some highly advanced armor made with some mineral that Ethan never saw before. His armour had numerous foldable latches and dimly white glowing sides running all the way through to the metallic wings flapping behind him.
