The boy slept peacefully. She sat next to him that night, admiring his deep breaths and tranquil smile with a tinge of jealousy. Her kind had never been able to sleep so calmly, but she didn't mind the loss of sleep if it were spent like this.

Noticing a shiver, she pulled a warm blue blanket over him and tucked his messy hair behind his ears.

"I miss you, John," she whispered.

And for once, she wasn't lying. Even the densest of trolls would be able to tell Vriska meant that, and all that had to be witnessed was the tenderness in her touch, the gentle glint in her eye. It was a shame John was the densest of them all- otherwise she wouldn't have been visiting him at night.

Vriska ran both thumbs over his cheeks, stopping at the spot she knew his dimples would be. She mourned the trust in his eyes, in his smile, back when he used to look at her. Vriska couldn't believe it was something she'd be separated from, nor did she imagine ever becoming so attached to it. Now his eyes flickered away nervously whenever he saw her.

It all started with a competition. A rather stupid and immature one, but a competition nonetheless. She spotted the potential in him, and it escalated from there. She helped him and watched him grow- no, grown with him, and he was her apprentice, her favourite one, and they were a team.

She found herself caring less and less about using him to compete against Terezi and more and more about him and his own personal success. And then it happened- she began to trust him.

Vriska jumped as she heard a small snore, jerking her hands back, but it was evident John was still fast asleep. Breathing out a sigh of relief, she blinked and reached up to touch the wetness under her eyes. Ugh. There it was again. The disgusting vulnerability only John could drag out of her.

She still remembered the night she killed Tavros. She revealed more about herself to John than she had ever done with anyone, about her villainous ways and deepest regrets. But her motives weren't so villainous, were they?

Was that why he was afraid of her now? Because she had blood on her hands? Or was it the ambition she exuded in the afterlife, when she was desperate to mean something again?

He was a fool! She could never hurt him, she wouldn't-

The pressure in her throat increased and she let out a pathetic sob. Slapping a hand over her mouth, she let the despair take over, and her suddenly frail shoulders shook.

Even when she had shown him the weakest parts of her, he still thought of her as a monster. She felt like a monster. That part of herself clawed at her heart, knowing it had cost her a matesprite, a dear friend, and this hadn't been the first time.

Flashes of past conversations passed through her mind, and she reached down to hold John's warm hand. Did they ever mean anything to him? Did he know how much he meant to her? How much it hurt when he took back his trust?

John showed her how to avoid ruining what she touched, how to hope, how to love. But most importantly, he taught her how much a warped perception could sting.

Except this was a lot more than just a misconception. It was a series of mistakes. Her entire past had been at fault. If only she'd been more ruthless, or more benevolent! But that's just not who she was, she was a sweet in between, and he wasn't nearly as perceptive as she was.

Her pathetic hope shattered. It would have never worked out. Not even in different realities.

She'd give herself this one moment of weakness. This one moment, and she'd leave forever.

Leaning forward, she pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose, thinking about how badly she had wanted to do this before, to have John's arms around her, but now it was too late and she was dead and he'd long moved on, and it was all so unfair!

She let out a few more shuddering breaths, wiping the tears from her eyes.

Perhaps it was time for her to move on too. So she wiped the tears from her puffy eyes, and dropped his hand, knowing fully well this was the first and last time she'd ever be able savour his warmth or be able to stand next to him without sensing his wariness.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying hard to erase the infinite memories of John's laugh, or his adorable demeanor. She forced herself to forget.

Vriska stood up and walked out of the dark room, ignoring the ache in her chest.

She didn't look back.

So how about that JohnVris angst? ;-; Does anyone even ship this anymore?

Haha here have it anyway

I won't be continuing this! It's a one-shot

Sorry for any mistakes in spelling or grammar

xoxosage