They come to her in quiet moments and before she falls asleep. They rear fiercely when he makes a flippant remark and when Blair makes blood burst from his nose. Though most of all they come after a near failed missions and lockers full of scented notes.
He had said to her once that cool men don't cheat on their partners. Her tears had dried instantly and in that moment, despite all she has ever known, she had believed him.
At least she did until Blair moved in.
She is easy to anger and quick to punish and he complains constantly. Not once did she think to amend her ways. Not until he screamed that there's bound to be a partner that won't do this to him. She locked herself in her room and spent the weekend sobbing.
For her, the threat hung long after he took it back.
They danced in the heart of his madness and have danced many times since. She has pulled him back from madness and he has pulled her back in return. She knows his soul, feels his resonance, but the nagging inevitability remains.
This is temporary.
In the Book of Eibon he did not look as they all expected. She hadn't really noticed at the time, but when Tsubaki and Liz pointed it out later she shook her head and laughed it off. Surely they were mistaken.
He would never be caught dead with tiny tits.
Their mission was complete. Her partner was now a Death Scythe, no longer just her partner to claim. He smirked at the suggestion that he may want or have to take another, that he already had the coolest partner around.
It's not so easy to keep the faith when the letters keep coming and with her as his meister they keep falling short.
He has said that he will follow her wherever she goes and she knows as good as anyone the connotations attached to a promise like that. Cool guys don't say things like that. In the moment it had been exactly what she needed to hear, but now it is not the same comfort.
It does not help her sleep at night.
She has made him a death scythe, yes. That was always the goal. She had thought that to see Lord Death wield him would be the happiest moment of her life. She used to dream of it as her ideal world. Now the thought feels like facing an opponent she knows is beyond her capabilities.
It is inevitable.
All men leave one way or another, even ones who are prepared to die for you. It is a universal truth, a harsh reality she must face. She has been lucky for the years she has had, though she knows she will curse them when it is all over. Her partner is no longer a broken boy.
Though he will leave her a broken girl.
No amount of hair tousles or embraces will convince her otherwise. No sweet words or small gestures will dissuade her. If she is prepared for the moment surely it won't hurt quite so much when it comes.
Surely.
They are fighting and it is not their usually bickering. It is a proper full-blown fight and when it reaches its apex she is certain. This is the moment. It all ends here. He opens his mouth and stalks towards her. She hardens herself for their conclusion and is already well on her way to destroyed when she realises she's crying.
The dreaded words don't come.
He is barely contained rage and fire and madness when he yanks her hand to his chest and demands that she know those words she dreads, her demented inevitability will never come. He would not have this scar if the end was nigh.
And she cries and cries because she does not know which of them is wrong.
He will spend the rest of their lives trying to prove her wrong. At least, she is sure that is what he intends now. Intentions are pretty, but they are only that.
There will always be a locker of notes buried deep within her.