"Why can't you just tell me you love me? How hard is that!?" Gwen could feel the tears spring to her eyes as she shouted.

"Gwen, we've been over this, you're just..." Duncan trailed off, unsure how to answer her anymore.

This same fight had been going on every day since the couple's one year anniversary, two weeks ago. Gwen had told him over and over how she loved him, and yet he would never return the sentiment.

"I'm just what? Not pretty enough? Not smart enough? Not special enough?" She pressed, anger built up within Duncan with every word the nineteen year old girl spoke.

"You're just not her!" The teal-eyed boy finally shouted, and Gwen gasped, before narrowing her eyes.

Duncan wouldn't of taken the words back, even if he was given the chance. It just had to be said. Gwen just wasn't her.

They hadn't talked about that certain girl since the funeral, her funeral. They didn't dare speak her name anymore.

Every night after, he blamed himself. Blamed himself for letting her leave his house, angry, with tears pooling in her onyx eyes.

It had been a stupid fight, something they would of laughed about just days later. Something he didn't even remember now. But the tears clouded her eyes while she drove down the street, and she hadn't seen the street light turn red before the semi truck crashed right into her Mother's Corvette.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't cried an ocean that night.

"Get out." Gwen said between clenched teeth, and gabbed a finger in the direction of the front door, from where she stood in the kitchen.

"I'm sorry." Duncan whispered, before stuffing his hands in his pockets and marching out of the house.

He was sorry. He never wanted to hurt Gwen; hell, he never wanted to date her in the first place. And he was ashamed to admit she was nothing but a temporary replacement for the one he truly wanted.

It had happened like this, a week after Court- after her funeral, he'd found Gwen crying on a bench in the park, and he'd decided to speak to her. As it turned out, Gwen had found Trent and some random, big boobed, blond girl in his bedroom. That explanation was enough for him. So of course, Duncan had comforted her, and she had kept him in one piece without even realizing it.

Though the glue was starting to dissolve, and she could no longer hold him together.

--

"You're such a fucking asshole, Duncan!" Those words would forever burn a hole in his heart; the last words to come from his Princess' mouth.

Even thinking the nickname had him biting his tongue to hold back a torrent of tears, as he walked down the sidewalk.

"Darling, don't cry. Shh, it's okay." He had whispered in her ear when she had broken her wrist playing basketball at his house when they were seventeen.

"Will you kiss it better?" She had given him a small smile in return, as the tears slowed.

It had always been so easy to stay strong for her, to not show fear in the face of adversity, to take care of and protect her.

"You'll never get hurt again. I'll protect you, Princess." He'd promised her while the docter put a cast on her wrist.

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

He hadn't thought anything wrong about her comment when she made it. But thinking about it now, had she somehow known he wouldn't be able to keep his promise?

He had promised to protect her. To love her. To keep her safe.

He had failed.

Gwen wasn't her.

And no one could ever be her.