Three rings. Three idiot fiancées. Three failed weddings. Olga was on a roll.

"I can't believe it…again." she said with a sigh.

"Look at it this way: you finally decided for yourself that you weren't ready. Nobody had to tell you this time. You're braver than you know, Olga." Far from best friends, Olga was still my sister. Rivalry set aside, I still wanted to be there for her. I'm still not sure why.

"You're pretty smart for a 17 year old."

"I'm 19, Olga."

She smiled. "Thanks, baby sister."

We hugged. It's not such a bad nickname, I guess.


I swear, these drabbles are going to kill me. Since when does PointyO write drabbles?! PointyO hates drabbles! Hates!

I don't know why I'm obsessed with the idea of leaving someone at the altar. It's not like it's happened to me or anything. And I have another one-shot involving Olga and Helga's relationship, but it will not be a drabble! I refuse! Oh crap, I just thought of a way to make it a drabble. And it works. Okay, so there might be a long version and a drabble version. Crimeny, I can't escape!

This was a spur of the moment thing. I kind of thought it up in a few minutes and spit this out. Another 100 words.

I can't believe I like drabbles.

I will definitely be updating Back Home soon. I actually wrote this because I was stuck in a small part of Back Home. It'll get done, promise.

Later days,

PointyO