All Clara ever did was a scheme to try and last as long as possible, to prolong the end which she thought to have been inevitable. For her, this fight was going to be her last, so she might as well just try her best with not losing without having made them suffer first too.

It started with her back against the wall, next to the door which burst open now, undisturbed, with O.M.N.I.U.M. soldiers. Clara Carita would have loved to question them, but when matters of survival interrupted, she really had less of a drive to care to find out more about the ones hell-bent on separating her from Venom.

The first soldier stepped inside the office, gun pointed ahead. Before he turned around, Clara grabbed the gun by the barrel, yanked it forwards, out of their grip, then back into the soldier's chest. Two hits had his sternum crack.

With a gun in hand, Clara immediately aimed it at the closest next soldier while using the dizzy broken-sternum man as a shield. Three rounds had to be fired in order to properly kill that guy.

After the second round, his colleagues pushed the guy struggling to breath aside, for the doorway was blocked for his stead.

The first sonic weapon activated and Clara's knees buckled with a muffled scream. She couldn't quite hear herself anympre, not while Venom was screeching and shivering inside like he had been put in a blender.

On one knee, Clara had landed near the guy she broke the sternum of. Close to falling over already, her eyes had only opened widely once the first bullet hit the side of her shoulder. The pain she felt, closer to reality now that Venom couldn't heal as he usually did, woke her up to see the knife strapped to the fallen soldier's leg.

She took it and let it descend through the foot of the guy who carried the currently activated sonic weapon.

Another bullet punctured her abdominal area and her movements faltered to an almost mechanical state, to have Clara flinch. She pulled the knife out of his foot and raised it blindly upwards, managing to stab first his thigh, rather weakly, then that wretched device.

The pitched sound was gone and Clara strained herself to twist around, get up. She stood an inch before the soldier. From the momentum of the spin, that knife landed right under his helmet, into the throat. With the back of her free hand acting like a hammer, she pushed into the hilt twice as hard to truly sink that blade through anything of vital value.

Then, since pulling out was too hard for her strained muscles, she pushed the hilt back, enough to touch his neck and get the blade to slice its way out.

Blood was everywhere.

Clara's sight was blurred with pain still vibrating in her bones. She felt those stains as cold shivers on her skin, little tingles to accompany her, engulfing her hands as they twisted the blade into a reversed grip so she could shove it into the next guy's helmet. Her breath was ragged but she did not stop to allow her lungs to catch up. One hit was enough just to crack it, but a second was required to properly kill him.

She didn't get the chance, as this guy had faster reflexes. He turned on his sound weapon while she was still up-close and that sort of damage made Clara feel like she lost her consciousness completely.

The sound made her see blackness before her eyes.

These small tangible senses were all she had left because comprehending the real aches and inside bleeding was not an option.

The next thing she recognized herself doing was crawl away.

She didn't know how she got on the ground, when did she fall or whether or not she dropped the knife on the way down.

Clara's sight blacked out again, coming and going in waves, not helping with her grasp of what was happening to her.

The next wave, like an exhale, had her see that she decided to throw her knife at that weapon making her ears bleed. She missed it, by far, because the sound continued, getting closer no matter how much she tried to get away.

From an outside perspective, her body was phasing outside of its shell. Venom was spilling out, while actively trying to get back under her skin, where his form was becoming too visible. His presence was a source of pain now too. In constant agony, she was moving in a confusing quickness, like a video trapped in motion blur.

Another exhale: Clara felt hits coming onto her head, hoping to get her knocked out faster perhaps.

This is it, a singular thought exited the chaos of her thoughts trapped in the prison of a tortured head, fractured and suffering.

Venom couldn't speak, and while she couldn't exactly sense his presence anymore, she certainly felt his death approaching as fast as hers. It was a lonely death on her horizon, without even the sound of music or the sight of stars above. Yes, she recalled the night when the symbiote saved her and cursed herself that she couldn't save him now too.

It tore her very soul to get a taste of the end yet see none of those things everyone started believing in due to the romanticism of movies... her life wasn't flashing before her eyes. The end hurt too much to leave room for any memories or anything else other than the struggle to follow the instinct of survival.

A vicious cycle begun behind her brain, pushing its last commands on a collapsing system.

Clara gritted her teeth until they creaked one over the other, with blood from her gums draping around them as scarlet frames. Her hands, those shivering things whose thumbs gripped the carpet, turned to fists and stained knuckles caught glimpse of a shred of white.

She took another hit with nothing but a gasp. With every fiber of will Clara hoped to get up, however, through that open-mouthed gasp, Venom slipped out and started falling mixed with blood from her mouth.

Priority shifted and Clara moved her right hand under her chin, catching the dark goo and pooling it in her palm. He was faceless, formless from how much he shivered on the frequency which killed his cells, but that thing caught life in her eyes because it was her Venom.

The hand was brought back to her mouth and she forced herself to swallow Venom back in, closing her lips down over the other, clenching her jaw to help her symbiote with staying inside. But her strength to actually get up was gone and so was her momentum.

Out of breath, the most Clara could do was realize her eyes have been bruised, her cheeks swollen from prune punches, that her sight was blurred and it was about to look up, knelt, like the atheist to perdition: defiant.

Her eyes caught a nuance of focus between two elongated blinks. For that singular second, she saw the black helmet of the soldier about to knock the lights out for her.

Clara's eyes closed. She turned her cheek. Her hands were limply hanging between her knees.

But instead of pain, new sensations punctured the air and the defiance of the atheist caught the favors of fate.

Bullets were getting fired and their sound spurred blood out of the soldier, right over her. The hot liquid peppered her skin and forced Clara to open her eyes. A drop entered her left eye and pool its tea, intoxicating an already fractured sight.

It had been hard keeping himself from fainting.

Steven Grant felt like his reality has just passed the point where "overwhelming" was in any way bearable and his only way to deal with the swarm of thoughts was to make himself small, down next to the wall, across from the door he was scared of, closing his eyes and pressing the bridges of his palms against his temples, hoping to just deafen out the voices in his head now coming from a mirror. His fingers dug into his scalp and curls escaped through his fingers sleekly carrying the sweat which overtook his whole being.

The danger was lingering in his trembling bones and Steven felt suffocated by a thousand things at once: by that shirt he was wearing, by the weight of knowing blood was on his hands, by a terrifying amount of fright still stabbing his heart, by an impossible confusion testing him and of course, by that kiss, by that confession, coming after he had been certain seeing Clara turn into Venom had erased their perfect little love at first sight.

Yet there he was, after she had closed the door on him, choosing to let him escape so she could stay behind, feeling guilt unlike no time before. Steven's very heart was breaking, because though he feared opening his eyes so he didn't see his reflections again, he wanted to watch the door and hope he was going to see Clara come out.

He recalled far too clearly the look of accepting defeat trapped on her features while they became soft, right before everything went on a downward spiral.

His own mind was on that deescalating rollercoaster, until his breath revealed that silence had somehow returned.

Hesitant, barely moving, like a deer in the headlights, Steven started to unclench his defenseless position clinging to a desperate try to protect himself. First he opened his left eye, rising an eyebrow. Then the right joined along, dictating, after noticing nothing out of the ordinary, for the hands to lower.

It was a paramount step to first look at the nearest reflective surface, shyly wave into it and realize that reflections finally started acting like they were supposed to do, following the real person, not acting on their own. That calmed Steven's roaring mind to a whimper-quiet, enough to have him shake his way back to standing up.

He hadn't even properly straightened himself, because his back was still hunched, shoulders heavy, forward and down, when the doors of the office, those doors Clara shut, burst open. Smoke crawled out of it with a funky smell which earned Steven's disgusted grimace.

From the smoke, two people stepped out and the sight of a heavy looking assault rifle surely caught Steven's attention first, scaring him into taking a step back again, even if it meant he had to bump into a glass case and hurt his back.

But then again, it took only that fleeting pain to properly see who walked out of the gas and realize the unrecognizable people shouldn't be half as hard to recognize. Clara was being carried out by an imposing stranger.

This man, holding a gun as proudly and casually as one would hold the newspaper on their way to a morning commute into a posh city, wore sunglasses over a half gas mask, going over his mouth only. His blonde hair was not messed, just slicked back and clearly combed to a line, while from under his chin, a careful beard stood out. It was perhaps the fact that he was wearing formal attire which made it the oddest to see him, soundly out of breath.

Clara, on the other hand, was looking like she'd been the victim of a trainwreck, hence why it took Steven a while to even recognize her past the bruises, the blood and the paleness which made her look more dead than alive. Her haunting aspect was accentuated by how limp she looked, leaning against this man, relying on his solid arm to even attempt to drag her steps and get out of the smoke which was coughing her breaths out of her lungs for her.

The second Steven recognized her, he reversed his step back, taking it further from an inner instinct he couldn't even explain anymore. He saw what she was, with his own two eyes and through that weird mirror guy, Marc, too. Heck, he recalled as clearly as a tired mind could recall that he thought of her as a monster, considering the crimes he read Venom did and the things he saw Clara do in that form... But now that she was so badly injured, it felt inhumane to keep those same harsh emotions alive and completely disregard the kindness she had shown to him along the way.

Point blank, Steven had no idea what to feel or do.

Grizzly came as soon as he could, not exactly thinking he'd have to save his most recent team member from peril, but rather hoping he could finally get the chance to recruit Marc Spector as well. Obviously, things did not go according to his personal plan, but perhaps followed a grander scheme, considering he got there just in time to make use of the arsenal he always carries with himself. Grizzly still liked to be prepared, no matter what.

Seeing the man he thought he recognized as Marc Spector, he slid Clara's arm off his shoulders and passed her over to him. "Landed a chopper outside. I'll buy you some time and join you in like five minutes," Grizzly's accent cut weirdly out of that breathing mask. He turned around, back to the office clogged with dense smoke and aimed up his rifle, shooting two precise shots, followed by two distinctive drops. Wearing glasses did not falter his accuracy behind the trigger.

Steven was frozen once more, trapped in a narrative he didn't belong to. Those gunshots turned his skin to goosebumps within seconds.

But in all that chaos, he forced his focus to fall on the woman he had to hold, feeling her weight against him and suddenly involving all his concentration on keeping her up and handling everything with a gentle care so that he is not the cause of any further damage on her skin.

"What have they done to you...?" The mumble escaped his lips just about in time to help him dismiss the sound of more gunshots and the fact that Grizzly turned back around and glared heavily their way. His glare was as rough as the stone used to sharped knives.

"What are you two still doing here? Clara can't walk. I can handle it back here, so just get her to the helicopter now, would you, Marc?"

"Marc...," Steven repeated. Clara's arm around his shoulders flinched and he glimpsed at how she tried to lift her head, regain some composure on her own. However, Steven stole one more second, while Grizzly blasted his rifle again at the enemy -an enemy Steven knew nothing more about than the fact that they were bloody dangerous-, to just stare into the nearest reflection.

This time around, he didn't flinch and controlled the reaction of shock by just widening his eyes when he saw his reflection in a whole different position than he was. Marc was staring worriedly at Clara and somehow, Steven knew that look on his face all too well... he recognized it in an instant that this person in the mirror loved her just as much as he did back when things were normal.

Newfound pity flared in Steven's chest and though he had no idea what he was doing, he decided to try his best. And that meant that he made sure he had a good hold on Clara once they started walking.

His right arm was wrapped around her waist, trying to gently guide her so as to not place too much pressure on bones which might have been broken -Steven had no idea whatsoever how fights worked, so he could only observe the surface details, which just then were pointers to how absolutely wrecked Clara looked between all bruises. His left hand held hers, as that arm was flung over his shoulders.

However, Clara was still forcing to get herself awake, aware, even while her feet threaded tangled and her steps were dragged, unevenly bouncy; with each rushed few meters, each new glass case they passed, Steven started feeling her properly weighing him down.

"Straighten your shoulders or you'll both fall over," the reflection's voice talked with Steven all the way through this walk, ever present and ever-constant in his americanism trapped in that tone he used. "Get moving faster, Steven, come on, you can do better than that. Get yourselves of here, we can't let Khonshu win."

Deep inside, he had long sworn this was the first and last time when he listened to this voice. But truth be told, even if he wanted to, he couldn't have argued back with the man in the mirror, because Clara had his full attention in an instant, when she stumbled and tried to pry herself away from him.

The fresh air, coming from the very end of the hallway, where an open window marked the descent onto the stairs with a hidden nuance to them, stairs spiraling and promising a quiet, but steep passage outside, into the gardens, flared through Clara's nostrils and opened her senses like a whip would trigger a pained response. Electrified, she became aware in under a second of far too many things whose only reaction she knew of was rage.

"What are you doing?!" Her mumble was mostly inaudible, but Steven benefitted from being rather close to her when the sound reached his ears. They've made it far enough so that gunshots faded into a distant background.

"The bearded man told me he has a helicopter for an escape and I am taking you... us there."

Somehow, hearing that accent was even more effective of an alarm blasting in her thoughts than the sniff of fresh air. The stairs were under their noses now, and Clara considered it the best moment to literally bite on her pain -she bit her tongue until she was pretty sure she felt an iron hint slithering down her throat- and force her arm off of Steven, out of his hand only so she could grab his wrist instead.

At first, she pushed her shoulder into him, clumsy and barely holding her balance, however, once Steven's malleable nature helped this intimidation attack, Clara successfully raised his wrist above his head and pressed his back against the wall.

Her stupid gaze wasn't focusing, so even if she had her need to be frank and decisive in that moment, her head bowed. Under this movement of weakness, without Venom's voice, since the symbiote was painfully rendered to silence, her stomach growled as powerful as an organ about to start eating itself.

Steven watched, heart in his throat from fear, how all of this played out.

Clara shook her head violently then looked back up at him, "What the fuck are you still doing here?"

Her words may have been the epitome of violence, however, her tonality was choked into a frail silence. Even her grip was faltering in weakness, compared to the brute force Steven had thought Venom would have and he now remembered almost too clearly that Clara possessed too. His mind was getting swarmed with things he shouldn't be recalling.

"I was about to sacrifice us so you could live and you didn't even run away?"

The kiss she gave him returned to the foreground of Steven's mind and it hurt ten times over to see that the bruises on her face, the blood from her cuts, were all there now as an aftermath of her trying to save him, something which now made the kiss... a goodbye. That "I love you"... Steven's gaze turned to the side, to look in their reflection, trapped in the reflective surface of the window cracked open.

"This is exactly why I don't do relationships... Fuck."

The sadness of his independent reflection to hearing those words fall off Clara's bloodstained lips affected Steven too and he returned his attention to her in time to properly brace himself for her hands to let go of him completely and for her to stumble a single step back. She was going to fall down the stairs considering how drunkenly she seemed from the dizziness of aches.

So he reached forward and took her hands into his, even if his mind flashed at least a thousand way how she could rip him to shreds.

"Stop that," Clara immediately commanded, voice louder, a bit hoarse from its hidden shiver. "I can't keep doing this...," trying to pull her hands away from him without success, she just looked down at them and realized how much red was before her blurred sight. She wasn't seeing properly anymore, her eyelashes felt heavy, burdened much like her soul or rather her heart, which did not have space to expand next to her lungs and the few broken ribs.

"Let me get us out of here, you're hurt," Steven begged, because in his own thoughts, he knew he would have continued that sentence by admitting he blamed himself for her wounds in that moment. It was an inevitable guilt, probably not even his to carry, especially while he was tugged and tossed across situations he was unfamiliar with. But the more he remembered, the more he could balance the good and the bad, each time he did see Venom and forgot all about it in the past weeks.

They started walking again, but descending down the stairs only pushed the buttons in Clara's wrecked mind further, as if the bounce of struggling to take steps without falling over rearranged holes through her thoughts.

"Why exactly do you even care now, Steven? I saw the way you looked at me..." Now that she was properly awake, her senses clogged once more around the gravity of her wounds which Venom was not strong enough to heal. In her delusional state, this seemed like the perfect time to open up the discussion.

"Maybe I just want to go home, for goodness sake!" Steven snapped. All buttons pushed, words he'd regret were in line to get out of his panicked mind faster.

They stepped into the yard of the resort and from the above floor, fight sounds still peppered the night with noise, giving Steven's skin the decoration of cold goosebumps. "And last I bloody checked, you and the other guy were the only ones who didn't want to shoot me, but then again, how am I supposed to know? No one is telling me anything. My reflections are arguing and constantly yelling. You are going around kissing me, then dying, but then you've also forgotten to tell me apparently that you are a monster that half the country is looking for-"

The helicopter was within reach of them, when Clara pushed Steven away from her in a way of protesting against constantly hearing that wretched word he called her lately.

There was only so much she could take of it. She was too tired to pity anyone but herself. Her symbiote turned into a burden, leaving hurt more than ever and there was simply no way left for her to empathize with Steven, no matter the love she carried for him and his other sides. No.

And hearing him call her a monster? It was the final grain of salt she was going to accept over her open wounds.

Only before Clara could actually speak up about it, she realized her whole body froze and instead of addressing the man, the shouts he heard made no sense to him at all.

"Are you kidding me right now?" Clara felt every muscle in her body contract into a freeze. Her fibers trembled in a fight between her will to move towards the helicopter and Venom's fear keeping the body anchored to that spot. She found it outrageous. 

"You have the strength to take control of my body, but you can't fucking heal me, your host?" She started shouting, without shame and just as carelessly, Venom showed his head, much smaller than before, coming on a thin strand of his substance from her neck. She immediately tried to bite him off, but he simply dodged, even if rather slow from his haze.

"I don't want to fly again...," he complained in the tone he knew he would have gained her favors in. 

Steven saw the creature inhabiting her body and so the current hatred shared between their gazes, connected, glaring at one another, because Clara couldn't care less about a puny fear.

But wasn't that similar to what he was experiencing with "Marc"? Steven started wondering this clearly.

"Fuck you and your double standards!" Clara let go of any boundaries and dumped all her rage on her Venom, who was shivering in and out of her body, yet insisted in keeping her in one place, away from the helicopter which just then, to his weakened state, seemed like too much. "You want to stay here? Sure? We can just crawl back into the building so those O.M.N.I.U.M. bitches separate us. They want you, not me, after all and since you're all for eating my liver away just because you're scared of a fucking chopper, then let's just go back and shit on Grizzly's help-"

"I don't want to go back!" Venom roared.

"If you think you can just take control of my body whenever you want because I let it pass once or twice, then you are most wrong! I am still your host, this is not only your body."

"You and Venom argue?" With his hands joined before his chest and fingertips anchoring him through gentle rubs, Steven kept his distance while asking. The glare he received from Clara made him flinch, because it was backed up by the glare from Venom. 

They answered at the same time, "Of course we fucking argue, we share the same body." 

She definitely did not shy away from rolling her eyes. It was the least she could spare in terms of expression without feeling the excruciating need to just stop fighting to survive. Even her eyes hurt; the veins pronounced themselves around the iris and the dryness was getting hard to handle, hence the blur of vision.

"Come on, you slow cunts," Grizzly approached, balancing his rifle back on his shoulder, relaxed and alert at the same time. Passing between the two, he was within arm's reach to first strongly pat Clara's back, then Steven's arm. "Into the chopper, I am piloting," he announced that a bit too cheerfully, too close to a child about to be given the freedom to take the wheel alone in a play pretend.

Though Steven moved after Grizzly, confident this was his only way out of this mess, he still hesitated to get into the back of the helicopter without first looking back and noticing the tightness in Clara's jaw. 

She was left behind, struggling to get Venom to cooperate and let go of her muscles. One tired symbiote versus his exhausted host was an unfair match even once the factor of fatigue would have dissipated.

"Listen here, you little bitch," Clara mumbled under her breath. "You barely have enough strength to talk and you are pulling this off... You're killing us both with this fear so snap out of it." Even if her approach seemed to count the most on verbal persuasion, she didn't stop for even a second to fight against Venom's control.

That resilience quickly paid off when she flinched her arms back into her grasp. Her first action then was to slap that small appearance of the symbiote back under her skin. The legs soon followed, unclenched and alive, especially as she hit some sense into them too. 

Steven got into his seat and waited worriedly and rather impatiently to see Clara limp to the helicopter, then collapse into her seat next to him as if she was on the brink of death. She truly was. 

"Close one," Grizzly sighed out, though the sounds of the rotor blades spinning covered his deep voice entirely. A smile, unfitted to the scene, hid under the mask he forgot to take off because he truly did miss the field missions. He was dangerously enthusiastic about this, while behind him, Clara was feeling the drawbacks of fighting against her own symbiote while deeply wounded. Her shirt started blending sweat and  blood. The bullet holes kept gashing out swarms of blood which weren't sealing as fast as she was used to have them disappear.

Steven couldn't help but keep watching Clara as if she was a ticking bomb, only from all the staring, as soon as the helicopter was in the air, he was completely startled by another danger. Grizzly had carried back with him a plastic bag none of the others had time to give a second look to. Now, it was in main focus as he tossed what was in it over his shoulders. A head rolled on the ground until it touched Clara's foot. 

Her eyes were closed and her breathing abruptly became irregulated as soon as they were off ground, but sensing what was tossed made her open her eyes and glare down. Her stomach growled loudly, saliva formed uncontrollably in her mouth while Steven held back vomit, doubled up by his first actual time flying in a helicopter. He was close to crying at the sight of a head separated from its body, absolutely disgusted to stare into the blank, lifeless eyes. 

"Thought you could use some sustenance," Grizzly shouted for Clara to hear but that statement only made Steven aware that head was supposed to be food for Clara and her inner monster. So with wide eyes teary, he looked up at her and saw the paleness of her face, the state of her features, dried in lack of life. "Don't worry, it's just one of those soldiers- Hey!"

Sure, Clara was hungry and she knew that if only she feed Venom there and then, most of her suffering would have been over, he could have healed her. But a sudden spite overtook her and instead of being Grizzly's obedient lap dog, she kicked the head away with her foot, just about hard enough so it rolled out of the helicopter, on it's open side door which circulated air inside. 

Grizzly looked back after the head which was long gone, falling somewhere in the city they were trying to leave behind. "You needed that, Clara, what the hell!"

"Pass me the first aid kit," she replied. "Venom gotta learn a lesson."

Her head snapped to the side in a very quick shake: the disapproval of the symbiote. Grizzly muttered something under his breath about that not being the time arguments which waste a cleanly cut head he stained his vest for, but he pushed the first aid kit into Steven's lap. The latter passed it across the back of the helicopter, to Clara, who was shivering in her seat.

Sweating heavily, removing the top of her dress which became a shirt once she removed the detachable skirt may have embraced some shivers of coldness onto her skin, but they did not slow this constant feeling that she was in the midst of a fever. 

Steven glanced at her bare skin, at her pulsing muscles and he couldn't even do the natural thing of taking note that she surely worked out, because he was absolutely entranced and disgusted to see the bullet holes flooded with blood, breathing it out in rivers with waves. 

Clara forced some control over her breath, pushed the hair off her face with the back of her hand then leant back so she could lift her hips just about enough to look at the wounds on her abdomen, currently bothering her far more than the ones higher on her chest or onto her arms. 

But her hands were shaking, no matter how hard she tried to ignore the pain. In fact, tears started forming in her eyes, clouding her vision further once she forced herself to keep a hand on the bullet hole on her abdomen, trying to squeeze it from bleeding so much, while the other was fretting and failing to open the first aid kit she placed beside her. 

Steven was watching how that kit was about to fall over and though he was absolutely frozen, pinned as a statue in his seat about to shiver himself into probably fainting from fear, he heard that American accent in his mind. "She's not a monster." If that was a moment of recalling or rather an intervention from Marc just then, Steven couldn't tell, but it unclenched his muscles and helped him get out of his seat and land in the empty place besides Clara, taking the kit in his lap and opening it for her.

"I can help, but fair warning, I have no idea what I am doing and blood is already making my stomach twist and turn," Steven spoke quickly. 

Clara wanted more than ever to just let her shoulders relax and allow some help to take burden off her chest. But she looked at Steven and only saw signs of panic, signs which collided with everything she held dear so quickly about him. 

From the three-day trip to DC, from before this night in Casablanca went to shit... or perhaps from that abandoned ring in a deserted gym, she wanted so badly to remember just those good moments, yet each time, she recalled the fact that if she drew a line, she couldn't trust him. Maybe this wasn't a good call at all, letting them in.

Heck, the acceptance of her knuckles being brushed and held so carefully and lovingly by Jake who just witnessed her worst yet side passed through her mind too and it became a time of peace which suddenly mocked her enough to grit her teeth and sigh. 

"Give me something to clean the wound with then pass me anything to seal it," she ordered under her breath, accentuating that she was going to do this alone, but she could use a fast hand to give her everything she needed close to her shaking limbs.

Remembering the hopelessness and disappointment in her eyes before they first parted ways in that stupid resort, Steven felt the bitterness of agreeing with her idea of barely helping her with this small thing of giving her items so she could concentrate on sealing her own wounds.

A thousand questions laid behind his eyes and they all had to wait.

author's note:    new closing gif ^^^^ made by the wonderful potter_spellbook 💖💕 will it give you all hope if i said the gif represents a scene that will be happening in this act?

today i am about to board my flight back to romania.. unfortunately, having my sister and mom over in london for a week did not go too well for my mental health. it's shocking how harmful family can be sometimes with their words. bUT i am happy to go back to my country as my grandma is the only one actually missing me from my family 💖💕

bright side: arguments with mom had me following my therapist's advice to stick to writing if stuff gets too stressful. sooo, i pre-wrote again and ohhh boy, this act is LIT.

Next update - Mondayyy