"A prostitute."


Try as hard as he could, he couldn't shake it out of the hamster wheel. Once upon a time, a prostitute had shattered a We. And all the king's horses and all the king's men hadn't been able to put We together again.


We talked about choices. He'd said that he'd be okay if she kept choosing him again. He hadn't said that choices don't exist in vacuums. That choosing one thing meant you weren't choosing the other options. That one choice, at that moment, was more important, more valued, than the others. Maybe he hadn't known it then. Maybe the idea had crept in like a thief in the night and taken root.


We changed. Maybe it was the words that had been said; in anger, in confusion, in hurt. Or maybe it was just knowing that We didn't want the same thing anymore. We tried to clean the slate. But now the slate was a blank, silent divide to be tip-toed around. A wall that was a bridge that might crack with the wrong step.


He had left before, but he wouldn't leave again. Because he loved her. And he knew she loved him. He just couldn't be in love with her if she wasn't in love with him. Maybe Avis loved like she did everything else; in white-hot flashes that could blind, and then stormy silences. But he wouldn't leave the girl who'd had everything taken away and then watched so many leave. She'd never have to be lonely again. Even if they weren't lovers, she would always find his hand if she reached out.


The Idea hurt. It ached like a part of him was gone. But a man almost died because words had been twisted by fear. He knew things would continue to twist until everything became warped mirrors in a haunted house full of ghosts of a We long gone. And he couldn't do that. It wouldn't be the Truth of what We were anymore. If they continued the way they were, something beautiful would be stained by Rorschach blots of resentment and fear and loathing until that was the only thing to be seen.


His eyes ached to spill over and his throat was too tight to form words as he packed up and strapped on a vest under his Henley and car coat. There were other Truths to deal with first. Eventually? We would talk and be Avis and Star again.


Love Will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division