Swims | □

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Dedicated to  simonesaidwhat because I'm obsessed with All That Is Gold right now. 

November 2012 (Present Day)

Two weeks into juvenile, Declan received a letter. To say he was surprised would be an understatement. His parents had publicly disowned him. His brother had punched him in the face before an officer had restrained the older Qarr back. Scar had tears streaming down her face as they had handcuffed Declan and read him his rights. Natalie had stood in shock as they dragged him away. Declan shuddered every time he thought about what Ahmed's reaction would have been.

Still, the letter came. There was one other person who was capable of writing to Declan and he was pretty sure she would never want to see him again. Not after he ruined her life. Not after he caused her to be stripped of her titles and honor. Not after they had fallen in love faster than her medal sinking to the bottom of the pool. 

He pulled it out of the ripped envelope; it irked him that a guard had already read the words. In the beginning, Declan had protested to his lawyer who had in turn, sternly reminded him of the rights he no longer had. Still, juvi sucked. Every teenager, boy or girl, had a darkness round them. Murder, arson, robbery; Declan shuddered every time he looked at any one person for too long. 

His once medium length hair had been chopped into a buzz cut. Once a week, the barber came to trim his beard. He spent his days pondering on the what ifs. His favorite one was if it would have been easier for the world to know about the bookshelf and it's secrets. Malia's betrayed and confused face as they handcuffed her haunted his nights.

He hadn't had any visitors either that could relieve him of the disastrous life inside the walls... Scar had come to visit him once but she hadn't said anything. They had simply stated at each other through the glass, phone pressed to their ears, the only sound being their breathing. Her fists had been clenched and she didn't wear make up. At first, Declan didn't recognize her but when her lip wobbled, his did too.  

As for the asshole who had done it, Declan had never seen anyone look so smug at being caught. The son of a bitch was proud of his work. Proud of how well the pieces fit in the bigger picture.

"I have been waiting a long time for this."  He had said as they handcuffed him and dragged him away. Declan had read the newspapers over his ongoing hearings. The world had set aside it's affairs to see the product of his work: the broken champion, the unsuspecting boy, and the mastermind behind it all.

Pushing the memories of the last couple of months away, he began reading, recognizing the handwriting immediately.

Donut,

I want to call you by your name but you will always be Donut to me. Never forget that.

There's so much I want to say to you. But right now, as I'm writing this, I can't think of anything. How cliché, right? I'm not going to delve in the details of your innocence or guilt. I can't deal with that. Not now and not ever. I'm not going to apologize for my actions either. Heads up, I'm going to bullet point my thoughts because they're incoherent and messy and I can't form sentences properly. . Here goes nothing:

• First, you should/need (to) understand that there's nothing left for me here.

• I loved you long before you even noticed me. Call it young infatuation but it's true. You were always the cool boy who could make any girl laugh/blush. I was one of those girls. I will always be one of those girls; the same way, you will always be one of those boys.

• Declan, I love you.

His hands began shaking as he stared at his own name in Malia's swirly handwriting. A fain memory of going through her notes popped up but he pushed it aside to read what she had to say.