[Completed]
An alchemist who poisoned himself, an assassin who stabbed his own heart, an arsonist who burned herself, and a hero who couldn't defeat his inner monster.
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( A re-enact of Hades...
•❅─────────✧❅✦❅✧─────────❅• 48 - The Sun is Also a Star
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Again, thank you ghitou28 for helping me with the french line.
WARNING: Dark violence, Slightly Mature
No one kept promises the way the sun oathed to earth that he would return to shine every day. Her skin was used to bask its warmth, glistening under its golden rays as it wrapped her in comfort. She missed the way it dispersed through the great hall's colored glass, or when it poked her hair through the tule curtain every morning. When Scotland's sky was clouded with layers of cirrus grey and piercing cold she missed the sun more than ever.
Martin Apollo McKinnon was the closest resemblance to the sun. He kept his promise for a lifetime, that his presence became something that she thought she would always have, and deserved—when in reality, someone like Martin wasn't what she deserved. He was whom she needed.
Had it not because of him, she would be damned, the sun would vanish from the milky way and left Gaia frosted to wither, before bursting to galactic debris. Her petals cold when she found his stoic facade, but his McKinnon's attitude resurfaced quickly, showing his real expression.
He, no longer oozed of sunrays smile with his dimples and the way his golden hair would glimmer like a halo above his head. Martin was sickened of collision inside his mind, his heart was liberated from incarceration it endured the past six years. He exposed his aching, swollen heart, beating slower when he stared at her. Albeit, arrows stabbed his cardium at the core as a reminder that he couldn't loan her heart.
Apollo's atoms exploded excessively, bright silver, he appeared pallid and soulless during their Apparition class. Cyan eyes faded to pale crystals whenever his eyes spotted her in the room. Words became a few seconds of glances, and when their eyes spoke it was apparent they were indulged in pain and guilt. Not ready to talk, nor to fix their ricocheting friendship. The two souls were both hurt differently.
She was left to wither. He left to explode.
Most of the times he would be with Levy Goodwin and Damocles Belby—while Gammaliel would be either sitting on the Gryffindor's table or she would be on her own during the feast. They needed each other yet stupidly and childishly eaten whole by mortal's feelings.
Love. The stupid mortal's feeling ruined their years of jovial memories, grains by grains battered, tore apart and metamorphed into a different kind of pain—loss. Like pieces of porcelain glued together, their friendship would not be the same after such elusive emotion alluded.
