scaraether drabble
(i wrote this maybe like 2 years ago but i keep reading it because it's clearly something i had to digest from real life event and oh god life was tough indeed.. when you want to write a fanfic text but end up dealing with what not so funny people left you..)
it's happening again, drenched in the violent rain of a summer evening, aether was contemplating the ground like he wanted to become one with the puddle on the floor
too shameful to think of a way to escape this situation, his heart boiling in anger, not against him but against himself.
he couldn't believe how deep he fell this time again for scara's gorgeous lies
he is there. again. alone. him, late once again.
he doesn't know what it feels to care anymore. he is used to this absence of attention.
scara was always like this, selfish and uncaring. he mastered the art of pretty lies. he always gave you the impression what you said was important made you believe you were something to care for, then spite in the face, or more like stabbing you in your back and coming back like nothing happened
scara was not there again.
