They say a lovestory with a happy ending is just unfinished. Nothing more than a tiny period of time in a whole film tape of memories from a complete life.
All this doesn't matter anyways, because people like me don't have the privilege to dream of anything 'happy' in our ending. It's just in our DNA, I guess.
A heart of thick, cold ice. A heart burning like an uncontrollable flame.
Both balancing between love and hate but just can't help themselves- always chosing hate and destruction. Because that's what love is, right? That's what they had learned, that's what they got raised to believe.
Fire and fire just make a bigger flame, ice and ice just make it even colder. But fire and ice?
They are perfectly destructive for each other.
They can heal and they can destroy each other.
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