for the throne belongs to us | {pillar/sable}

“Excuse me, miss, but I'm afraid you've dropped this.”
My name is Pillar Fray, and in my short fourteen years, I've dropped quite a few fucking things.

My life, my sanity -- pretty much half of everything that ever kept me together. I haven't spoken to Garnet or Corran in weeks, and as much I do love Morganite, our sudden rekindled friendship is based on one selfish want:

To be reckless.

He doesn't read like Corran, forcing me to sit alone with myself as she nods between every paragraph. He doesn't twirl around like Garnet, trying to make me smile in attempts that never seem to work anymore. Morganite, just-... He's opened up a new world for me, and as stupid and impetuous as I've allowed myself to become, I can't help but to thank him for it.

(For the late nights at the club, for the shots and the laughter. For the times I get to let my hair fall loose and just scream: “Fuck you!”
Heard by nothing, but directed at everything.)

Morganite Shore has given me something to feel. In a world where every frown is a shard of glass in my heart, where every fake smile is a twisting of my arm. Being numb is-... The only time I truly feel alive. And it's not as if people haven't noticed. Corran and Garnet glare at me softly from our once regular lunch table, as I sit by myself, or even with Morganite when he takes the damn time to attend lunch in favor of checking out guys. (I wonder if he knows that I-...)

Fuck. I've forgot all about to voice that just sent me inside of myself.
“Oh,” I start, turning and looking at the rightful owner, trying to reform my composure. And-... Then I see his eyes. I don't know what hits me, what shakes me to the core that I wish was fucking hollow, but I can't put a finger on whether or not I like it. If-... If I want to feel anything at all. The boy is handsome, with a strong jaw and manners that put me somewhere between impressed and confused as Hell. His eyes shine when he stares at me, as if I actually mean something to him, but-... He doesn't even know me. How could he give a shit about me, if a world I've known all of my life pisses on me with each passing day? “No, it's not ruined. (I am.) Thank you.”

I can't decide if I want to flee, or if-... Or if I should just let myself feel whatever this is, let myself fall prey to whatever is to come from this. And I-... I can't shake how exciting, how fucking reckless, it sounds. To lose myself to a boy who looks like he cares, but will probably end me with a knife in my heart. Everything I've ever known tells me to get away. To not let myself get too close; that if I do, I can say goodbye to myself.

He tells me his name, and his words send bullets of emotion through my skin, and when he asks for my identity, I can't help but to blink.

“I'm-...”

The bitch.

The loser.

The coward.

The girl who's lost herself.

“Pillar Fray.”

– and I beg of you, please break both I and everything I feel.