Rowan stood at the precipice, his heart pounding in time with the waves that crashed against the jagged shore, their white froth spiraling into the air like delicate feathers caught in a gust. The world around him was cloaked in silence, interrupted only by his deep, shaky breaths, each one a feeble attempt to stave off the rising tide of panic, regret, and sorrow that threatened to engulf him. "It's beautiful, beau," Phillip murmured, his voice barely rising above the whisper of the ocean breeze. He settled beside Rowan, hands comfortably tucked into the pockets of his well-worn jeans, a relaxed posture that seemed to contrast sharply with the tension crackling between them.
Phillip's eyes drifted from the glimmering sea back to Rowan, searching for the storm brewing beneath his calm facade. Noticing the weight of unspoken words hanging thick in the air, he quickly shifted his focus back to the churning water. "I told you so," Rowan's voice emerged, fragile like glass, a flicker of a smile breaking free—a fleeting moment that Phillip caught at the corner of his eye, as delicate as a soap bubble on the verge of bursting.
Frustration surged within Rowan as he reflected on how he had ended up here—standing alone on this wind-swept beach, poised at a crucial crossroads within Shadow Company, intertwined with the enigmatic yet cocky Graves. Memories rushed back to him; he could vividly remember other recruits speaking of Graves with reverence, whispering tales about the man as if he were a rare apparition meant only for the chosen few. In the vast sea of the company, Rowan had often felt like a mere drop in an endless ocean, yet he had sworn to encounter Graves, even if just for a moment. And now, he found himself perilously close to losing that chance, caught in the space where admiration collided with resentment.
His thoughts spiraled in a tumult of painful inevitability—Rowan had been anticipating this moment for what felt like a lifetime. Decisions, he knew, often left behind scars; someone always ended up hurt in the chaos of his life. He had trained himself to maintain an emotional distance, to navigate life as a solitary wraith, shunning camaraderie and connections. Yet now, here he was, grappling with fierce emotions as he prepared to sever ties with Graves for what felt like an eternity.
Rowan's eyes briefly flickered toward Graves, standing closer to the edge than he should have. If Graves sensed the turmoil thundering inside Rowan's heart, he made no move to intervene. Rowan turned his attention back to the waves, feigning interest in their endless rhythm before pivoting to face Graves fully. "I'm sorry," he murmured, regret crashing over him like the waves below as he noticed the pain etched on Phillip's face. The anguish in Phillip's eyes was raw and piercing, reminiscent of a child left behind, a look so heart-wrenching that it sent a chill down Rowan's spine. But the moment was fleeting; before Phillip could reach out to stop him, Rowan surrendered to the abyss, letting gravity tug him into the void below.
Phillip lunged toward the cliff's edge, eyes wide with disbelief as he stared into the depths where Rowan had disappeared, despair mingling with the salty spray of the ocean breeze, tears blurring his vision.
How had it come to this tragic point? To uncover the truth, we must rewind to the beginning, to the moment when everything began to unravel.
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You Who Bares All Your Teeth In Every Smile
FanfictionRowan had never thought of himself as someone who could fall in love. Romance seemed reserved for the poets and dreamers, not for a man forged in the harshness of life. He'd also never imagined he'd be called someone who "sold his soul to the devil...
