2 Works by inlay
Listing Works
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Summary
“We’re friends,” she says instead. “We can laugh about this, I mean, it wasn’t even me, so you don’t need to be embarrassed.”
“Right,” the Doctor says. “Glad to see we’re on the same page.”
He flexes his fingers absentmindedly, and her eyes are pulled to the movement of the tendons across the back of his hand. The greedy thing in her chest snarls.
“I mean, it’s not like you’re pining away for — ”
“Clara,” the Doctor says softly. “You’re being unkind.”
(Or: at an invention fair in the future, the Doctor and Clara get trapped in a room with a device that forces the Doctor to answer any question Clara asks. She pulls on one too many threads.)
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Summary
Rukia was sitting in his room the first time he opened his eyes after. He does not know if this was a dream, or reality—remembers only that she looked very pale, and that there was a small, black hell butterfly perched on her finger. In this vision, she looked startlingly similar to the girl who used to crouch on his windowsill before school, shiny black shoes and black hair. He watched her for as long as his eyes could stay open, waiting for her to notice him and tell him what was happening. The battle hadn't felt like the deciding, dramatic finale he'd been subconsciously expecting, and he keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop.
What next?
(or, sometimes it takes a couple lifetimes to learn the difference between a love and a soulmate)