[ it hits him again, sudden and sharp right in his chest. the picture of a woman with dark hair─ no, her hair turned white in the end didn't it? his friend, dearest friend. Yasha, he murmurs to no one but himself, why is it that they both remind him of her in different ways.
he's not supposed to be getting attached, not supposed to be letting people in and here he is arms outstretched.
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he's not supposed to be getting attached, not supposed to be letting people in and here he is arms outstretched.
fucking hell. ]