This is just a drabble to try and get and get my out of my Who writer's block. I personally don't like it very much, but hey whatever gets the job done. Tell me what you think, constructive critisism is always welcome.
He likes having companions.
He can see the magnificence of the universe again through their eyes, eyes filled with wonder and amazement where his own view of it has grown cynical and stale.
He can lose himself in their smiles as they take in a new world and see only the good, where he sees only the horrors that are going on beneath the surface. They remind him that the universe doesn't consist only of terrible wars and planets burning and people screaming as they do.
He likes to listen to their inane ramblings about domestic life as he fiddles with the wiring under the console, because when they do, he doesn't feel so alone. When they're talking he can focus on them and their zest for life and ignore the screaming silence that the death of his people left behind.
He grows accustomed to their faces, fools himself into believing that maybe they'll be with him forever and tries to ignore the painful knowledge that they won't be.
Time always takes them away from him. They always leave, without exception. Sometimes because they've become tired of traveling and sometimes because they fall in love, as they should. Some, death rips mercilessly away from him and another forgets him.
They're always so afraid of losing him, while in the end its him they leave behind.
In the end he is alone again, like always, with just their memories to keep him company.
In the end they break his hearts.
