Goodbye

A/N – So first off, I want to get this point out of the way. The original character written about and used in this story's picture are owned by Tama. She is a phenomenal artist, and you can find her on Tumblr as Tamak0 or on her Facebook page, Tamak00 and DeviantArt and Fanfiction profile as kitsutama. Now that that is out of the way, it is time for my personal note to all of you, the readers, and, my fans.

This is the last story I shall write for Atlas. I am done with writing. In the beginning, it was a way for me to let out so much pain I had felt. Loneliness was my biggest fear, and really, it still is, and so, I wrote. And I met so many wonderful, beautiful people. And I have suffered great heartbreak because of that. I can no longer write as Atlas. I can no longer write the 'beauty in tragedy'. I'm afraid I've become cold and jaded, all this hurt has turned me into a bitter person. And so, I cannot write under Atlas anymore. It would be a disservice for what Atlas once stood for. Writing was once my escape to brighter places, but now, it is my condemnation. My newer works are of a much different feel, darker and more sinister, more maddening and reveling more in the surreal and mystery. Atlas is dead. And it is time to bury him. I am sorry, to all of you. Thank you for all your support through these years. I wish I could write more for you…I had so much more planned…perhaps I will still write them, but, they will go unpublished.

Atlas is dead. Now to bury him. And perhaps, I shall find my solace. This is a farewell, not only to you, the reader, the fan, but to all those that have broken my heart, to the people I thought of as friends who had no time for me, for the people who knew my pain, my fear of abandonment, and left me alone, more broken than when they found me.

I'm now someone new. Someone who would rather hurt than to be the one hurt.

I am now dead.

See you in hell.

Have you ever heard that expression? You know, the one along the lines of "a village to raise a child"? Well, a yordle by the name of Darcy understands this concept all too well. Having been an orphan, she learned from many in Bandle, was raised by many. After all, she was a child of Bandle, Bandle was her home. It seemed only natural that Bandle would become her family. To leave such an innocent child alone in the cold was something that the residents just could not do. And so, she was raised by the other yordles. She never knew what happened to her parents, but, even without a father or mother, she was never short on love. Most everyone did their part in raising her, and so because of that, they had all become a big part of her life. To her, Bandle City was her life.

That said, life wasn't without its struggles. Really though, she felt little need to complain. She never had to struggle with food or clothing or where to sleep. At that she was blessed, and, very thankful. Perhaps its because of this that she felt little need to complain about what bothered her. She was loved plenty times over, but the fact that she didn't have a family of her own hung over her head. In the end, however, if she had to describe how she felt about her life, she would say she was content with how things have turned out, having made peace of her upbringing long ago. That didn't stop the episodes she felt, however. Time to time, she would worry, anxiety would grip at her heart, guilt would stain her thoughts. She felt, maybe, out of place? Like she didn't belong, or fit in, or that while everyone said that it was okay, she just couldn't feel okay. Do you know what I mean? To feel as if you just belong.

Many times she would stress herself out, or even upset herself, over thinking the little things about life. The most common practice of this was trying to accept kindness. By no means was she an introvert, it sorta comes with being a yordle that you are just naturally sociable, but she was generally more quiet than the other of her kind, a bit more reserved (although she might call it being a bit more centered). But really, how could she not worry? Everyone knew her story…her upbringing. Everyone. She would at times mistake kindness for pity. And when not pitiful, she felt the attention she would receive was rather excessive in the kindness they showed. At times, asking her if she was alright, as if expecting her to, for some reason, break down out of the blue. Still, she could not stay upset at them. It was, after all, just the others showing their concern. It was done with a good heart, she would reason. But still…sometimes that care could be rather…suffocating, to say the least. It's because of this that Darcy loved to find time for herself, time away from everyone where she could be free. He enjoyed every minute she could steal away from the others. She would at times relax, just sit alone with her thoughts for a while, or, more often than not, playing her violin. No matter what she did, however, she always found herself lost.

The forest had always seemed so tranquil. Or, at the very least, it used to.

Before she met…him.

By no means was Ziggs a bad person. Maybe a tad bit crazy, or, as Darcy would insist, hyper, but by no means a bad person. He was certainly loud, and his strange fascination, or rather, obsession with explosions did not help his case. She had stumbled across him one time. Having found the time, she ventured out into the woods, looking to be alone, to play her violin in peace so as to not disturb anyone else. Well, it seemed as though he had the same idea, for he sat in a small clearing, tinkering away at some hexplosives. She had heard many stories about him, but, never really met him in person. He was sort of a neighborhood story. Really, though, there probably wasn't a yordle in all of Bandle that hadn't heard of Ziggs, or at the very least, heard of his work. It's kind of hard not to hear about it when the damn explosions wake up half of Bandle. And so he sat, away from city limits, working on his toys, just as she was wont to do, away from others so as to not disturb them and allow them peace. For now, anyway.

She had heard many tales of the hexplosive-crazed yordle residing on the other side of the city. But, apparently, he had heard nothing of her. It was a welcome change, she supposed. Not wanting to seem rude, she stroke conversation with him, and truly, it was pleasant. But, she had also learned something. He really didn't know much about her. Like, he really didn't know much about her. About who she was or where she came from, about her family situation, anything, Because of this, he didn't act abnormal to her. He had treated her like, well, he would anyone else Well, that's probably an understatement. He was very obviously overjoyed to have someone to actually talk to, most others seeming to have kept their distance from him. Although, it was really just him talking, and Darcy listening patiently. When she would put in a word here or there, he would hang on every word, and not just because he didn't want to be rude, but because he was genuinely interested. It was, to say the least, a nice change of pace.

Here he was, not really trying to 'fix' her or cater to her, or otherwise try and make her feel special. He didn't treat her like some fragile glass doll. It was so different from how everyone else had treated her up till then, and that made that conversation all the more meaningful to her. Darcy never thought that she could just be a 'normal' girl, and yet, he made her feel that way. He made her feel special, by simply not treating her special. Because of this, after their first encounter, they decided to meet up again, and a relationship started to bloom. He was always excited to talk to her, and the toothy grin he flashed whenever he saw her did nothing but set her heart aflutter. How did he do that, she would wonder. It was as if he didn't even have to try.

The hours Darcy would steal away for herself were now lost together with Ziggs He was her most trusted friend, she telling him everything. When others would fret over her or continuously worry, to which she could only reply that she was fine, she would instead run to him and cry her heart out. He would sit and hold her tenderly in silence. Times like that, it wasn't about him, you see. It was all about her. And honestly? She didn't need his words. Just to know that he was there for her was enough, and Ziggs was always there whenever she needed him. She would cry until she had no more tears left to shed, then he'd wipe away her tear before asking if she felt better. The answer was always yes, and his response was always the same as well; that signature toothy grin of his that she had grown to love. While she always had others around her, it wasn't until Ziggs came along that she felt as if something was missing. But now, she had him, and, well, having found out what she was missing…it was missing no more.

The time they spent together was precious to her. Sometimes, she would play her violin, and Ziggs would be entranced by her grace. Other times, he would amaze her by writing her name in the sky with his hexplosives. Before, she was content with her quiet, peaceful life. But now that she had met Ziggs…well, she had found happiness.

Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever. Friendship, happiness…love…they all seem to fall away, at one point or another.

As most things that occurred with Ziggs, it happened suddenly. Following the Bandle exodus, Ziggs too showed interest in leaving for Piltover, wanting to follow the example Heimerdinger had set forth. Many yordles had left with him when he initially left, and many followed after. Piltover, the city of progress, accepted all, regardless of their origin. After all, their society was one based on logic, on science. Bloodlines compared little to scientific achievement. Ziggs was always bright, so, it was only natural he showed interest in leaving for such a society, a society that would accept him for his knowledge and accomplishments. As he had put it to Darcy, it was the home he never knew he had. And that little line, what he had said had shattered her heart and left her broken. All her life, she felt the same way. But, to her, home wasn't a place. It was him. But he didn't feel the same way, it appeared. Perhaps it was because of her anxiety, her trait of always being so self conscious that prevented her from allowing herself to be happy, that she decided not to go with him, despite his pleading. He was her everything. He was her home. But he would not say the same for her. You never know what you are missing until you find it, after all…for both of them, it was a home, a place to belong. She belonged with him, but, even with her, he had never felt that warmth. His home was somewhere else, far away.

But Darcy, having been born and raised by Bandle, could not leave. After all, its all she never knew. Bandle City was a part of her, just as much as Ziggs was. But, it seems like she wasn't as much to Ziggs as Piltover was, as some city he'd never even laid eyes on. She didn't hate him for leaving She hated herself for allowing it to happen, and, for being too weak to have felt so broken up by it. She blamed herself. He didn't abandon her, she had done it to herself. She abandoned her own heart.

In life, nothing ever lasts forever…whether it be love, or warmth, or happiness…but life is about how you live it, and living is not about suffering, not about what you have gone through, but being able to move on, to pick yourself up and continue on.

Years had passed, the Institute of War was erected, the League of Legends was formed, and in time, it had fallen, disbanded. No longer with the responsibility bestowed upon them, the champions of the league went back to the lives they lived prior to it all having occurred. All champions went back to their respective city-states and territories. With the freedom that came with no longer having to participate regularly in the League, Ziggs took time for himself. How many years had passed since he had been to Bandle, he would wonder. Champions were regarded highly, much like heroes or nobles, so, he had no doubt in his mind that he would finally find acceptance. Hell, they'd probably be proud of him. But said thoughts only seemed to dampen his spirits. Since the beginning, there had always been one person who had believed in him. And he thought of her often, even after all this time.

By the time he had it back to Bandle, it was already harvest time, or rather, nearing the ending of the harvesting period. Naturally, that meant only one thing. The harvest festival. Everyone was out and about, hurrying to and fro, busy with either work or pleasure, and in some cases both. It was a celebration after all. Dancing, drinking, children running and playing, singing, it was a merry time. And it was here, in the midst of the festivities, that he had found her, standing with others, all of whom held instruments. She played away at her violin, adding more to the atmosphere as people cheered and whistled, dancing about. She stood beautifully, wearing a flowing white dress, her long braid draped over her free shoulder, a flower crown in her hair replaced her usual hat that she would war, the daisies standing out in all the red. She smiled, and his heart dropped. It seemed dimmer than before. He would recall how her smile shone so brilliantly, but now, it seemed less. Ziggs couldn't help but to feel responsible.

When they had finished playing and started to disband, he finally approached Darcy, seeming to have gone unnoticed by her as he stood in the crowd. He stood behind her as she put away her instrument in her case, his mouth open, trying to call out to her, but no words would form. When she turned and came face to face with him, she froze, seemingly stupefied. Her eyes seemed to light up, and without his knowing, his lips parted to show that mad smile of his she was always fond of. Would you care to dance, he had asked, outstretching his hand.

They had embraced each other, and before either knew what they were doing, they were walking hand in hand, walking finding themselves in the woods, at the place they had always met. The clearing that would always be considered theirs.

As proposed, they danced. No music, no one else around, in each others' arms they swayed back and forth, teary eyed, until eventually, they found themselves lying in the grass, looking skywards. With each other for warmth, they watched the stars up high. The wind picked up, and Darcy began to shiver. Ziggs held her closer, trying to be her warmth. But, he couldn't be. No matter how he tried, it wouldn't be the same. It dawned on him that she wasn't shivering, but trembling. He looked to her, and saw tears staining her cheeks. Silent until now, she finally let go, sobbing. He never needed to do anything to help her. He just needed to be there. But, for a long time, he wasn't there for her.

Back then, he would hold her tenderly, in silence, but now, he couldn't help but sob with her. He never needed to say something, but this time, he wanted so desperately to say something, anything to help her, anything to make the pain go away, but there was nothing he could say, and that fact made him feel so hopeless. When it was all done, he couldn't bring himself to ask her if she was alright. He already knew the answer to that. It wasn't alright, and it hasn't been for a long time.

The hour was late. Their goodbye was fast approaching. He grabbed her, holding her once more, holding her tightly, as if he was scared to let go of her. Like, if he let this moment end, then, it would all be over, all of it would end. But unfortunately, as soon as you realize it's a dream, that's all it will ever be. Knowing that this moment will end only made it all more painful, and morning was approaching, the time to say farewells has come, and the dream has come to an end.

He kissed her, one final attempt to keep her, to have her for himself. But as they separated, she saw his tears. He was broken, just as she. Darcy wiped away his tears, Ziggs nuzzling into her hand, unable to fathom the thought of life without her warmth. It was in this moment, in the end, that he realized something. He realized that this entire time, all his life, he was missing something. And now, having lost it forever, he knew what it was.

But life isn't about the tragedies we suffer, nor is it about the hardships we face. Its about what we do after them that matters. Its about moving forward.

The two said their goodbyes, and went their own ways.

Thank you.

Goodbye.