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You can’t do this anymore.
You can’t. You love Vriska, and Vriska loves you, but they aren’t the same kinds of love, and that is where your heartbreak lies.
And that is precisely the problem. Heartbreak. Not diamond. Not pale. Not for a long time now. Vriska is more observant than some give her credit for, but as far as you know, she is oblivious to how your pale love has turned redder and redder over perigees.
And you can’t do this anymore. You can’t pretend to be pale for her, not when your red heart is bleeding all over her unchanging diamond.
You were a good moirallegiance. Not great, not perfect, but it was acceptable. Until you, traitorous quadrant-flipper, realized you were not pale for that mad, burning girl, but red as red could be. And she still knows nothing.
You can’t tell her. It’s clear she is red for Tavros, although he obviously does not reciprocate (you never thought you would wish to be a brownblood with overlarge horns), and expressing your true feelings would do nothing good for you or her.
It was the dress that drew the line. You spent so long on it, hours, days, visualizing how it would look on her body, bony and strong and vibrating with energy, the shining white and the blood-blue symbol splashed across her chest, deluding yourself into thinking that she might realize your intentions, your thoughts and feelings stitched into every seam, and reciprocate. You were even prepared to make a matching one for yourself. And then what does she do – she goes off and kisses that poor boy, and you only get a passing thanks for your labor and love.
It’s the end. You’re in the game before you get a chance to talk, but you can’t drag this out anymore. It already hurts too much.
You thought it hurt. The look on her face, betrayal clear as the bright, burning sun, that hurts. Somewhere inside, you still feel a moirail’s duties, and seeing such obvious pain on a girl who hides all pain (she had the audacity to say that an arm and eye lost in an explosion was nothing, was better, look at that arm now, a robotic monstrosity with no elegance and grace; but when did she respect things like that anyway) hurts you almost more than your traitorous heart does.
But you have to do it. And then it’s done. The diamond is broken. And all you can do is pray that you have not made a grave mistake by following your heart.