sparrow and lion

It wasn't that Wren wanted it this way. He just didn't know how to stop it. Everything he ever did was wrong. So was everything he had ever done. And maybe that included Leo.

When he thought about the day they'd met, it made his stomach hurt. He didn't know why, exactly. He couldn't tell if it was the good ache of a full stomach or the sour ache of a spoiled meal. He just knew it hurt. And whether that ache was good or bad, it always stemmed from Leo.

She had ended his loneliness then. She was the cause of it now.

The worst part was that he didn't know what to do. He had always just turned to Leo. He had followed her down every path. Every time, he chose her. But what if that wasn't the right thing to do anymore?

Wren had never been as clever as Leo. He had never been as brave. But he had always been the good one. He was the one who tried. So hard. Always. So, while Leo had always been the one who loved dogs, Wren was the one who remembered to feed them. And that had been what taught him that love was not enough.

What mattered most was responsibility.

Responsibility was what kept him always on her heels. His coffers were all but empty from paying for her mistakes. His reputation was in tatters from defending her misdeeds. But he couldn't stop. He didn't want to. Leo was his everything.

But he was just one of Leo's pets.

He wanted to believe that she loved him. But Leo was a wildfire and he had already rung himself dry. So he pretended to fall asleep. He made his breaths even. He hoped that it would keep her away.

It drew her in instead.

The feeling of her warm body against his hurt worse than anything. Love was duty and recklessness. And Leo was recklessness incarnate. Duty was all there was left for Wren to be.

He did wish. He wished that things could be different. He wanted things to be the way they used to be. He wanted to be able to keep his promises. He didn't know if Leo could remember that promise in that garden, but Wren could. He had meant it. Before he knew what it meant and after. He had meant it for years.

Leo's fingers curled tightly around Wren's.

Wren would have ripped himself into pieces for her. But the world had done it already. He could follow the little bits of himself all the way back to that summer. They had been running out of time since they were eight years old.

Wren squeezed Leo's fingers. Her warmth settled into his heart. Her scent filled his nose. He held his breath. He kept her close just a little bit longer.

But circumstance was an ember in a dried-up field of weeds. And there was only one way to stop a spark from burning down the world.

You stomp it out.

Wren put Leo back in her own bed.

He didn't pretend to fall asleep this time.