“Not like this.”

The thoughts; - His thoughts were one of despair. Devastation. The years that went he only gained less. The people he loss were the weight that held him to his knees.

A man; - beyond repair to fix. Impaired to the straggling point of no tears to cry; no curses to spew. Silence.

A light in his life; one he thought; - he can keep. You, only to be taken from his grasp, on the night where Losang stabbed you bitterly to the stomach; leading you to carol.

A woman; - who; he. Daryl, himself can feel the vulnerability that was bound up; held back.

Laurent. The only light in his life. one who was only so bright; as bright as the light you had.

The two sitting there; - on the steps of an old Longère house; the gray sky of Paris hanging over, daryl bit at his bottom lip; whilst he listened to the words by laurent.

“You're good man, daryl.” Laurent assured, whilst he was only zoned out; missing your presence.

“They loved you.” Laurent continued; playing with his Rubics cube, a grunt leaving daryls lips, as he looked over at him; Laurent glancing over at him, the same time.

“Thin’k so.” He questioned gruffly; a low monotone of his thoughts, he was lost in the thoughts of ponder.

“They told me’ that they do.” Laurent spoke more; his hands pausing on his rubics cube. “You're loved.”

A huff escaping daryls nose; whilst he picked the scabs off his calloused hands, biting his lower lip once more as he thought; before he spoke.

Devotion; felt like a dangerous thought.

“Loved. you thin’k tha’t?”