To the last syllable of recorded time;
xvii.
She should have died hereafter;
He never looked back.
But never ever had that been more difficult than that night – soaring towers and songs wrapping all around them, her body soft against his and his face buried in her hair so she wouldn’t see the tears. Her skin was impossibly soft and she held him, her breath soft on his neck while his hearts beat a discordant tune, melancholy and clashing.
He didn’t want to leave.
He had to anyway. As much as he wanted to take her away again – spirit her off to the stars so that she never ever stepped foot in that wretched Library – if he did, none of this would have existed. Not her smile or her mouth against his, not her heart that loved him and only him and all the other hims that ever were or ever would be, not his promise to love only her that he intended to keep even after she was gone.
Because she wouldn’t really be gone.
She’d be saved – in a life he knew now she would hate, but she would endure only for the sake that he would be there with her. One day. At his own end.
He didn’t say goodbye. He’d kissed her goodnight and he wondered if she tasted the goodbye secreted within it.
As he set his ship – his loyal, faithful ship – off into the vortex, he’d broken in two. Neither of his hearts would be whole anymore.
xxii.
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
“I told you no weapons!”
“If you thought I was going to let you go there alone and completely unarmed, you are out of your mind!”
“They are a race of pacifists-”
“With terrorist cells who would do anything to stop the merge-”
“And you deliberately brought a weapon-”
“Which was needed to protect us all from the assassination attempt-”
“Why do you never just listen to me?! I don’t make these rules up for my own benefit-”
“I only don’t listen when your orders are stupid-”
“You put lives at risk!”
“Well so did you – your own.”
“I don’t come first, River. That’s not how it works.”
“It’s how it works for me.”
“River...”
“I put you first. No matter what. Even no matter what you say.”
“River-”
“You can’t ask me to watch you die. I can’t do that, I can’t.”
“Okay. It’s okay. I won’t do that.”
“Do you promise?”
“I won’t do that.”
xxv.
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
Who was she?
It felt like a mantra – like some rampant manifesto that had been lodged in his head. Who was River Song?
YOU ARE READING
Yowzah Oneshot Collection (1)
Lãng mạnareyoumarriedriver Yowzah fiction (some other writer too)😅 All credit to the right owner, I'll repeat, all credit to the right owner. I didn't own any of the stories, i kept it here for my own sake, so I can read it and reread it whenever i like. S...
