Together.
They were always together, and they always would be. They vowed to never separate; they whispered it, staring toward the building that would house them, peering at the cracks in the walls and the dirt creasing the folds, gathering on the window sills, as they held their hands together and refused to separate.
He had looked up at the sky covered in gray clouds gathering to block the sun overhead and threats that may linger; she had been at his side, arm intertwined with his as she looked upward along side him. We will be alright, she had claimed, her voice barely above a murmur but held with such strength that he had no choice but to avert his attention from what was above him and stare. He knew that the cold and unforgiving letters painted upon the deathtrap that had become all too familiar to both of them was stained on the inside of her eyelids, dancing throughout her mind whilst he stared at her, her gaze lowered and rueful, for those letters, STARK, tainted his subconscious as well. "You have to promise me," he had eventually spoke, a straining and wetness gathering at the back of his eyes. "You have to promise that you won't ever leave me. You're all that I have left." They had caught in an embrace, and she had promised, her oath trusted by the tears falling down both of their faces.
When they had grew and escaped they ran wild. The streets were a cruel place that only the soiled and corrupted could survive in, and change was a crucial factor in initial survival. Crouching in alleyways, stale bread in between them and pain blossoming upon his face, they had told of stories and promised once more. Together, always.
She examined the purple and blue stains that had found their way onto his jaw and eye, telling stories of their own, putting his assurances to shame. Fine he was not, nor was he unhurt and okay. The prize held little glory for her heart ached with worry and regret; what if it had not been a fist, but a knife, or a bullet? He was reckless, quick, but she was tolerant, understanding. It was foolish to fret over what might've been, yet she could not help herself. The frown upon her mouth was infectious, and his tight smile was riddled with sorrow as her hand lifted away from his offering and toward his struggle. "You're all that I have left." she chocked. He swore twice, and once he promised not to weep.
Revenge fueled them; vengeance was to be theirs. Whether in person or through walls of thick separation and anxiety, their oath was repeated to be reassured. Protests did not suffice.
"Can we trust them?"
"Do we have to?"
Their mouths were dry and their brows were furrowed, fingers laced together so that their bond would be stubbornly unbroken. They worriedly glanced toward one another before her head was rested onto his shoulder and he had sighed as to release stress from within him. His futile action lead to his thoughts wandering elsewhere, and he found that he was afraid. "Scared that I will just end up being cooler than you?" She had peered up at him when he had spoke and she had been met with his same struggling smile and desperate blue eyes. He held her hand, and her grip had become more apparent. She would never leave him, especially from jealousy. "We're all that we have left." She would protect him. And he would be envious of her when they walked out, together.
With one another they had searched, plans becoming more evident and roles being reversed. They had broke free from cages and recovered, sporting changes with pride for that was the way they had learned to behave growing up. Even as he ran and she watched, they would never become separate.
Wind whipped through her hair, her arms latched around his neck as he had ran at seeds previously deemed impossible. Her head pounded from the blistering red marks that once covered her forehead, but when her mind cleared it was common knowledge that she had an epiphany. Their enemy shouldn't have been just that, and he knew it was well. He stared down at her, his chest heaving for air. By her blank stare he was aware of so much more, and to share with her he had placed a hand upon her shoulder as he crouched down to eye level. "I won't ever leave you." They would confront them together, and their fates would be intertwined. He refused to leave her then.
They knew what had to be done. Separated, but together, connected on the city that flew, shrouded in metal scraps. They would fight back, they would walk it off.
"I'm twelve minutes older than you, you know?"
Her worried remarks and demands and suggestions and frets were cut short, and a small smile had found its way upon her lips. Brash was he, and different; with white hair and speed that he didn't have before, it suited him. She reflected on it, and she knew that he was still the same. He would do whatever it took to do hat was right, to have them and make it out. They would be okay, and as would he. But she was worried, as she usually was, yet she would brawl. She was powerful, she would fight, though she longed to protect him solely. "Go."
Smiling, they would stay with each other forever. They would last, and legacies would remain, because each other is all that they had.
"We'll make it out of this, I swear."
"Together, forever."
