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|More from Fruipit||Romance||G||None||No update page|
6th August, 2013
noun [mass noun]
the indefinite continued progress of existence
When she was six, Toph would wonder whether she would ever leave the desolate place she called 'house', but never called 'home'.
When he was eight, Sokka blamed himself for not being strong enough to protect his mother.
When she was twelve, she met someone from another nation.
When he was fifteen, he met his best friend.
When she was thirteen, she fell in love.
When he was sixteen, so did he.
Problem? It was to different people. Without realising it, he broke her heart.
Knowingly, she broke his nose.
She was sixteen when she lost her best friend.
Seventeen, when she lost her family.
Eighteen, when she lost herself.
The years in isolation as a child had not prepared her for such an experience.
She dealt with it the way she always did; she lashed out.
She regretted it.
He was twenty-three when he found her again.
He had the static look of a man unexpectedly finding himself alone.
She had the sunken look of one who knew all too well.
He hadn't recognised her at first.
She could tell as soon as he stepped through the door.
She was twenty-one when she stopped running, and began hiding.
He was twenty-four when he found her. He didn't leave her side.
Twenty-two, and she birthed her daughter.
Her twenty-third birthday came and went, and he still hadn't left her.
He was twenty-eight when little Lin first called him "Dad".
The years became unimportant.
His heart grew stronger, beating for the little girl and her mother.
Her heart grew quieter, still beating for him but not so loud.
She couldn't open up as she once did to him.
Instead, she gave him the key.
He was thirty-five when he asked her to marry him.
She was thirty-two.
Hugged by him and her daughter, she had never felt happier.
Notes: Literally just about to go into work. No idea. This is unbeta'd and needs a minor fix, but for now, I'm happy with it.
For the collective works of the author, go here.