Dawnlark Plains nothing good ever happens at the goddamn thirsty crow

he shook his head, fur bristling. "that's not. . .that's not what i meant. i loved you then," he amended, "and i love you, still. but dawn--i'm tired of feeling like i'm not enough for you." his voice was very weary as he trailed off, the last word fading into the dullest of whispers. as if he were being dragged into the abyss of a dreamless sleep.

"kyon?" he asked in a desperate murmur, a ragged hiss. "main tumhaare liye paryaapt kyon nahin hoon?" he willed himself not to sob, but his throat was closing fast, his eyes welling with more tears. he blinked them angrily away; the shouting had felt better than this, this messy, weepy vulnerability. at least when he shouted, he could be strong.

guilt. selfish. thoughtlessness. those words rattled around in his brain. while he chided her for her actions, he realized that those emotions had guided his every step, in his youth. who was he to tell her how to live her life at such a young age? but then, he had never hurt anyone in the process, either. he had never done this.