Live For You [Jearmin]

Chapter One: Under These Stars

The sky was dark, mottled with stars, and the moonlight was almost enough to illuminate the land below. A gentle breeze put a chill to the air, and the overgrown grass swayed gently with it, bending ever so slightly as dew started to settle. Out here, away from camp, it was peaceful, but he was too upset to notice that.

Anyone a mile away could have heard his approach, just from how the fallen leaves frantically crunched beneath his weight. His footsteps were disorganized and fast, and more than one time that night did his boot catch under a root, tripping him up. However, each time he fell, he would get right back up like clockwork.

His nose was cherry red, a mixture from the impending cold of the night and his sniffling. The tips of his ears and fingers would soon match the hue, but he didn't notice the frigid air even as it wracked his body with shivers. Instead, his mind was focused on something much more heavy that night.

Marco.

It had already been two weeks since he saw his friend sitting dead on one of the cobblestone streets. Blood had been everywhere, painting the city red, yet his eyes had been able to pick out the corpse from the numerous others. He remembered how his own blood had seemed to run cold at the sight of the unnaturally pale body that had been ripped viciously in half. The worst part to him, however, was that he would never know exactly how Marco died. Anyone that had witnessed his friend's death had already been scraped off of the streets. There would be no closure for him.

His breaths now came out in puffs as the first tears started to trail down his face. He felt his throat constrict and knew he'd be sobbing soon. His fists clenched by his sides as he continued to run away from camp. He didn't need anyone knowing that he was upset. Especially not when everyone had already moved on, as if watching their fellow comrades getting eaten was nothing.

He hated how weak he felt.

Finally, when the burning in his legs became noticeable, he stopped. His body hunched over, and he placed his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath in the breaks between his whimpers. His eyes glazed over as he stared at the ground, not focusing on anything in particular.

Marco hadn't deserved to die. He always had so much spirit bubbling within him, cheer that he had needed to share with the world before his premature death. But then again, did anyone actually deserve to die at the hands of the Titans?

He screwed his eyes shut as he numbly fell down to his knees, now gasping as the tears streamed down steadily. His stomach lurched, and he felt the need to heave, to just let all of his frustrated desperation out. Instead, he pressed his lips together, finally allowing himself to just cry into his hands.

He could've saved Marco. Why hadn't he just fought alongside his friend instead of obeying the orders that had been barked at him? They could have fought together. And if one of them had to of died, he would have spared his own life to keep his friend alive. But he had abandoned his gut instincts that day and kept his mouth shut as he mindlessly obeyed his orders.

"Why," he sobbed aloud, "can't I move on?"

He was just thinking out loud, not expecting anyone or anything to answer him. The crickets were the only company he had out there, chirping in a jarring disharmony from the rest of the tranquility of the night.

"Why?" He rambled again, his voice getting a little more loud and sloppy as despair consumed him.

The crickets were starting to hurt his ears and the gentle wisps of wind felt like they were going to consume him. He choked on a sob, now digging his fingers into the earth, trying to drown out all of the noise. Finally, at the sound of a small sigh and the snap of a book closing, silence seemed to consume him. He wished for the noise again as he very suddenly realized he wasn't alone.