Ok wow. This is really late. Anyway, I felt like I should finish this. Thank you so much for reading my little story!

He was wrong. He was sowrong. He had never been more wrong in his life. After he watched her defeat the Dark Avatar and save the world from a dark age, he realized how wrong he had been. Their fight, everything he had said, he regretted. It all came flooding back to him. He remembered why he loved her. He remembered all of the times they spent together, and how much it would kill him if those times stopped. He remembered why he didn't tell her about their breakup. He still loved her. When her memory was erased, he saw it as an opportunity to undo what he had done, even if he didn't realize it yet. This was his chance. His do-over. Fate had been kind.

She had fought before, many times before, and each time they both were aware of the risks. She laid her life on the line far too often. Her selflessness amazed him. He was scared to death every time. He couldn't lose her. Not now, not ever. Whenever she fought, he held his breath. This was not concern for a friend, as he had assumed in the past. This was stronger. Infinitely stronger. Her death meant his. He was perfectly fine before her. Incomplete, but fine nonetheless. When she waltzed so effortlessly into his life, a part of him he didn't know he was missing fell into place. Whatever she had done to him, it was irreversible. After she left, he felt emptier than he had before. As if she not only took away what she gave him, but somehow managed to take with her a vital piece of him. That piece of him would die with her as she did. When she defeated the Dark Avatar mostly unharmed, he was so filled with relief and joy that he forgot to think. He ran to her and embraced her tightly, as if his life depended on it. He kissed her cheek sweetly, pride and love radiating off of him.

Fate was cruel. It played tricks. It gave hope and subsequently tore it away. It wore a facade of salvation while hiding a depth of destruction. He could see it in her face. She knew. She knew their little fight wasn't so little. Even so, when she admitted this to him, his heart dropped to the depths of his stomach. He was out of resources. Her face took on a look of seriousness and formality. Opposing forces were advancing. She went on to say that their relationship would never work. He was bombarded with artillery fire. They shared one final kiss, one that ended all too soon. He was running out of ground. She expressed that she would always love him. He waved his white flag, too wounded to fight any more.

That was the last of their relationship. She didn't hurt him any further.

After all, there is only one unwritten rule of war: you do not shoot a surrendered man.