Work Text:
Three years, he lived for three years. While that was much longer than most, it was still too short. Whenever she spoke her quiet, "owo" Squint's heart would fill with joy, yet it couldn't last forever. It started with a small crack, just around the top edge of it's rim, it was small, almost unnoticeable but it spread. A chip, a bend and then a chunk, gone, and then another, and another. Until she was barely holding on, barely able to whisper an OwO or UwU and yet and he breathed a final gasp, silence reined over the room, for Squint, would never again know, it's loving embrace, of his trash.