𝐂𝐎𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐂 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ! [ rhysand ]

𝐱. bonding time !

𝐂 𝐎 𝐒 𝐌 𝐈 𝐂   𝐋 𝐎 𝐕 𝐄   !

𝙲 𝙷 𝙰 𝙿 𝚃 𝙴 𝚁   𝚃 𝙴 𝙽   !

( 𝔟𝔬𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 ! )

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⬩❖⬩ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

          "𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆."

Ana jumped slightly. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, looking down at the blood crusting on her hands. She hadn't washed it yet, unable to really do much after the events of that night. So many memories clouded her mind as she picked at the crusted blood, tears slowly drying along her cheeks.

The bed dipped as Rhys sat down beside her, his violet eyes gleaming in the moonlight. As they'd agreed, he'd come to her instead of her going to him. But if he was there, then that meant Ana had fallen asleep at some point during her wallowing. Not that she minded, since she kind of needed someone to rant to that she trusted. And to her amazement, Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court, had her trust. 

Ana brushed at her cheeks, sniffling still. "Cherish this moment because you'll never see me cry again. Trust me."

"Why would I cherish a moment where you were crying? That would mean I enjoy seeing you cry." His hand wrapped gently around her wrist, pulling her hand from her face. "And while you look beautiful when you cry, I would prefer not seeing you so upset. So what made you cry?"

The blonde didn't even have it in her to joke about how he called her beautiful. "I witnessed an innocent faerie die today, and I was unable to do anything to help him." She wiped at her eyes again. "And it just . . . it reminded me of a time when I used to not be able to do shit. And I hated that time. By the Angel, I hated it." More tears were beginning to fall. "I couldn't save him. Amarantha took his wings, and I couldn't save him."

She hated that this one incident had taken her back so many years. Back to when she was just a little girl, unable to fight her own battles and unable to protect herself and her friends. Back when she was just as useless as a mundane when it came to fighting demons. Back to when she could do nothing against Viktor, allowing him to . . .

She didn't despise crying because she believed it made you weak. No, she didn't think releasing emotion was a weakness. She hated crying because she'd spent so much of her childhood crying. She cried so much when she was younger that she could only manage dry sobs. Crying took her back to those horrible, horrible times before she found the Brooklyn Institute and became friends with the Lightwoods and Jace.

A hesitant arm wrapped around her waist, and Ana soon found herself curled into Rhys's side, sobbing into his satin shirt. Her fingers gripped the fabric, using it to ground herself and pull herself out of that pit she'd put herself in. She wasn't in Russia anymore. She wasn't defenseless anymore. She could do so much⎯so much⎯that she couldn't before. Ana was no longer that little girl, but damn, did she feel like her.