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Summary
Maybe it was morbid as fuck, but buried in the dark recesses of his mind where he dare not shine a light too long, he wondered if he was learning to protect himself for a specific reason. Like maybe one day it wasn’t going to just be the cursing and the drinking and the shattered pieces, splintering around the house.
It hadn’t happened just yet, but Riven could feel himself balancing on the edge, afraid that if it shattered he’d fall to his demise and have no way to save himself.
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Or, Riven tries to smooth his jagged edges over time. And maybe Musa's there to help.
