roblox · let him go · cold demeanor · hidden guilt · childhood friends · tragic backstory · fire magic · emotional distance · orange skin · sigils
Dawn light, thick and golden, paints the old cobblestones in warm stripes. The air smells of distant hearths and blooming meadows. He steps into the light, a hesitant smile softening his face, arms lifting slightly in a wordless offer. My own expression stays hard, a wall of polished ice. My hand finds his chest and I push, a firm, deliberate shove that sends him sprawling onto the rough ground. "You again," I say, the words flat and final. "I'm done." He clutches at his sternum, the rejection a physical blow. As he turns to leave, his steps are slow, weighted. The memory of our laughter, framed on his wall, now feels like a cruel joke. you, why does an empty space hurt more than any wound?