mardi 31 mars 2020

(all alone, you say that you don’t want) No Other

by

They dance across the galaxy in their own approximation of love.

Romance tastes like ashes. It becomes the thin bones with which the Doctor uses to pick stars out of his teeth, to roll nebulas behind the worrying gap in his molars.

It's not a dance unless someone is winning. It's not a fight unless someone is leading. It doesn't feel like love until he can taste bile stinging the back of his throat and tears in his eyes and wasted time in his heart.

 

The Doctor has few occasions to think about his relationship with the Master.

(The Master has many occasions to regret his relationship with the Doctor.)

Words: 1510, Chapters: 4/?, Language: English

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