A sweet fiction, a necessary illusion, a tenacius hope JayVik
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Viktor was sitting on the ground. He was disintegrating too, but slower.
Jayce stared at him. Furrowed brow. Tight lips.
Viktor rarely got angry.
In the past, it used to amuse him. It gave him a weird, childish satisfaction to see Viktor fired up, flaring with life-like fireworks bursting into color. It warmed his heart.
Now, it just left behind a sweet, unbearable ache.
Whack.
Or maybe not.
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#102
jayvik
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