you just love doing that, do you?

running your fingers through his hair whenever he's sitting reviewing something. fiddling the ends of it whenever you're seated at the backseat of the car. holding him on your arms. making sure he's cared for. stand in front of him whenever there's danger. tend to his wounds whenever he has some. teach him things he hadn't heard of.

motel room. lampshade shadows. sofa cuddles. camcorder on hand. salad shaking competition. research marathons. paranormal investigations. make out sessions. grabbing get evidences. you name it. laid it all. gambled it all. recorded some. seen what wasn't seen— we got it so right that it goes very wrong. everything falling down at third of july the moment you shed your true blood.

demon.

you're a demon.

the very thing we've been hunting since day one.

and here he said he won't trust a demon again. said ruby is enough in this training wheel life experience he's been going through. but you were the best, but you were the worst as sick as it sounds, he love you first. he was a dick, it is what it is. a habit to kick, the age-old curse. he stare at the crash, it actually works. making amends, this shit just never ends. he's wrong again, wrong again. always been. and he hates you as much as he hates how he still wants to forgive.

"tell me you didn't do it," eyes red with tears at the corners, staring back at you. his brow, the corner of his lips twitches to a faintest smile as he slowly tilts his head, his voice falling to the quietest of whisper, of acceptance, of defeat and heartbreak. "you can't even say it, can you?"