So be my Devil, Angel. Be my shooting star.

Pairing: Rose W/ Scorpius M

Rated T: hints at self-harm


She's fifteen years young and watching the blood pour down like rain.

I'm sorry.

Two words scribbled on parchment. A drop of blood she didn't mean to lose. A thousand thoughts she never voiced.

I'm sorry.

Ink black wings against an ink black sky. A star blotted out by a velvet wish.

What for?

Two words, sealed with a kiss.

I did it again.

Four words. Double the number. Double the pain. Double the droplets of blood.

I'm coming.

He would traverse the constellations in that moment.

I'm here now. Hush.

She wasn't allowed to be weak, but he bent the rules. Like always.

Show me.

A demand, cut crystal stained crimson. Blood is too pretty to stay on the inside.

Rose...

Her name. One syllable. Red, like her blood. Raw, like her heart. Rare, like her kisses.

I'm sorry.

Two words never held such anguish.

Why?

A query, painted silver on the canvas of the sky.

Why what?

Feigned misunderstanding. A gentle nudge. A sigh.

Why do you do this?

The confusion of trying to help. Even rocks get worn away.

It hurts.

But not the blood. Not the pretty, scarlet blood.

You promised.

What are promises, but I love yous drawn in the sand? They'll always be washed away come morning. Nothing stays the same.

I'm sorry.

A shard of coloured glass that falls from the sky. A shattered mirror. Pieces of star-studded silk on the concrete.

I know.

A moment of silence; a flash of moonlight on silver skin.

I love you.

Three words. Eight letters. Just another promise etched in the sand.