He hated parties.
Close crowds and the laughing, it reminded him too much of home.
Sneaking off, trying drinks with his friends (all teenagers do, regardless of species), and those fun times.
Times that were forever buried now, along with his entire race and planet.
It usually hits him in times like those how lonely he really was.
Sure, he had companions and he had Wren, but they were human.
Always human, always something not Time Lord
Maybe he just took them along because they looked similar. Maybe he just liked living under the illusion that he wasn't alone.
That in some timeline somewhere, he didn't have to make that unimaginable choice. He saved his people and his planet and he was happy.
He surrounded himself with humans to make himself blend in. Pretending he wasn't the murderer he really was.
And then something happens. Something...tiny or reckless, someone dies...
They don't come back.
The illusion shatters; they're not really Time Lords.
*Icarus - Bastille
YOU ARE READING
Doctor Who: Really Tiny Short Stories
FanfictionThe bloody TARDIS. Of course, that was a brilliant idea; show everyone the Doctor's muddled clumps of memories... So I found some things in an old document of mine, and decided to publish them because why not? As the title says, they are very, VERY...
