four words | {pyrite/kellan}

In the wake of destruction, Kellan Fray had blood on his hands.

He stared at the stone in front of him: polished marble, a flame burning with life in its heart. His sister's name had been carefully carved across the surface. Pillar Fray. Pillar Fray. Pillar Fray.

Dead girl.

His fault.

He could have trained her more. He could have loved her better. (They all could have.)

"I'm sorry." he managed, dropping a lily at the base of her grave. The earth was still a bit soft. His shoes dug into the dampness of it, mud and clay sticking to the bottoms and sides.

He turned and walked away.


He found himself at a fork in the road: two directions. One would take him to a bar, where he would drink away her memory and wake up tomorrow and want to do it again, every day, for the rest of his life, because numbness didn't seem so terrible when feeling would only cause pain. The other would lead him to his girlfriend's house. He would bury his head in one of her pillows and maybe he wouldn't speak, and maybe she wouldn't either. Maybe he would shout and maybe she would shout back. Maybe, but he would find some sort of comfort in her. And maybe he would wake up tomorrow and want to do it again, every day, for the rest of his life.

Pub or Pyrite. Pub or Pyrite. Hate or Love?

He chose love.

He no longer bothered knocking. Her parents liked him enough to decide he would marry her, so they should have been fine with seeing him show up unannounced. He began to ascend the stairs when he saw Morganite. When the boy noticed him, Kellan became a ghost. Tears filled his eyes and he turned and stormed away, and it wasn't until then that Kellan remembered Morganite had once been friends with Pillar.

Even Petal had just enough heart not to smirk at him and spurt off some stupid sarcastic comment when he passed the open doorway to her room. Instead, she only nodded thoughtfully.

He closed Pyrite's door behind him and sat on the foot of her bed. This had become a habit, hadn't it? Climbing into each other's beds unannounced, saying things that confused the other? But he needed Pyrite then. And it had taken him years to realize it, so he had plenty of catching up to do.

He never looked at her, but he felt her eyes on him.

"I asked you to marry me once. Not because I was ready to, but because our parents wanted it." Whispers. Not the Kellan Fray everyone knew and loved. Not the Kellan Fray the Shore family wanted their daughter to marry. A tiny, fractured piece of him, with puffy eyes from lack of sleep, tousled hair, shaking hands. But not all of him.

"And I don't want you to have any doubt that this is what I want, too. Because I do. You are the only thing left in the world that I--" --Care about. "The games, Pillar, partying, it's background noise. You are what I want."

He looked at her for the first time, pretty blue eyes, delicately strong features. A warrior and a princess. His.

He climbed off the foot of the bed, walked around its edge so that he was closer to Pyrite.

He knelt to the ground.

"This time, I want to ask for your hand in marriage. Not because it is expected, but because it is what I want. And if you say yes, it'll be because it's what you want. And if you say no, then I'll know. But I... I love you, Pyrite. And I can't lose you, too."

He pulled out his mother's ring. He hadn't had the chance to give it to her since he hadn't ever had the chance to ask in the first place. He had been carrying the thing around in his pocket for months, waiting for the right time. What he learned was that there would never be a right time, so he held it out for her to see.

"Will you marry me, Pyrite Shore?"