- warnings: angst, i died for like 6 months this is very ehh
- word count: 1k
You’ve been distant.
He noticed.
Of course he noticed. He always does.
He noticed the shift long before you said anything — back when the warmth in your gaze started dimming. Back when your hands stopped lingering in his. Back when silence became your answer.
He had changed. He knows that.
Since the beginning, he was created with a single purpose. To follow his father's instructions without question. He did it willingly — maybe out of love. Or perhaps out of something he can’t quite name. Affection? Loyalty? Desperation to be worthy?
But then came you.
You were never part of the plan.
You were the light in the hotel windows when he returned.
You were the gentle voice that reminded him he was more than just a weapon.
You were the one who wiped the blood from his hands. Who cleaned the soot and grime from his face with hands far too kind for this world.
He is convinced he loves you. No — he knows it. It is the first truth he’s ever felt in this mess of a life. So he confessed. You smiled. You said yes. And for a fleeting moment, the world was something beautiful.
But something changed.
You stopped waiting for him. You stopped speaking when he entered the room. The silence between you turned sharp. He saw it — the way you flinched from his touch, the way your eyes darted away. There were no more soft words, no more comfort.
Only coldness.
The kind that mirrored the fallen ruins of Krat.
And he knows you saw the pain it caused. Of course you did. Because no matter how much distance you put between you, you still cared. And that hurt more than anything else.
So you decided to end it. Before it tore you both apart.
---
It was early morning when Pinocchio returned — the kind of quiet morning when the world still clung to sleep.
He stepped past the reception desk. Polendina greeted him like always.
“Welcome back, good sir. I trust you had no trouble tonight?”
He only shook his head. He was tired — not just in body, but in soul. Anyone with half a heart could see it.
“Ah. Before you go,” he added, “the young miss left a letter for you. She seemed…in a hurry.”
That made him freeze.
He took the letter from his hands, and tore it open right there at the counter.
“Meet me at the training garden when you return.
— [Name]”
His hands trembled.
First came joy. Then came dread.
Something was wrong. He knew it. You wouldn’t call him like this for no reason. But it didn’t matter. He had to see you.
And you were there — pacing, whispering to yourself. You looked small in the morning light. Small and scared.
When your eyes met his, you stopped. He smiled — just a little. But you didn’t return it.
You got straight to the point.
“You’re not supposed to love me.”
Silence. His chest caved at the sound of your voice cracking.
“I know you think you do. I know you’ve tried. But this — whatever this is between us — it isn’t what you were built for.”
You swallowed the lump in your throat.
“You’re supposed to save this damn city, Pinocchio. That’s the point of all this, isn’t it? The pain, the blood, the burden — you weren’t made for me. You were made for them.”
He couldn’t breathe. Your voice…it was so steady. So final.
You continued.
“I keep getting in the way. When you look at me, you hesitate. You listen to my voice instead of your instincts. That’s not love. That’s danger.”
He stepped closer. He saw it now — the tears clinging to your lashes.
“I don’t want to be the reason you fail. I don’t want to be the reason you die.”
You exhaled, voice barely above a whisper.
“So I’m ending this now. Not because I don’t love you — but because I do. And because you’re meant for something greater than me.”
He reached for you. His hands trembled as they cupped your cheeks — as if holding something fragile, precious.
But you pulled away. You turned to leave.
“Goodbye, P—”
“Wait.”
He grabbed your wrist. His grip was gentle, desperate.
“Please…don’t go.”
The way he said it shattered you.
“I can protect you. I will. You don’t have to—”
“It’s not about protection, P. It never was.”
Your voice shook.
“You’re meant to save this city, not waste your time on someone like me. I see it in Geppetto’s eyes every time I’m near you. Like I’m a flaw in his design. And maybe…maybe he’s right.”
He flinched. Of course — that man. The one who called him precious and then sent him into ruin over and over again.
“You said you loved me,” he whispered.
“I did. I do.”
His eyes brimmed with something too human.
A cruel trick of the old man’s craftsmanship — to make him capable of feeling like this.
“But love isn’t enough,” you said. “Not when the world needs you more than I ever will. I won’t be the reason you have to choose between me and humanity.”
He held your hands again. Pressed them to his chest.
“You’re not in the way,” he choked out. “You’re what keeps me— You’re what makes me—”
You pulled back. You kissed his knuckles. And that was the last kindness you gave him.
“You don’t have to understand it now. Maybe you never will. But one day, when this is all over… maybe then you’ll see that I did this for you.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” he whispered.
“I know,” you said softly. “But you have to let me go.”
And then you did.
“Please…” your voice broke as you turned away, “don’t follow me this time.”
---
He ran.
He didn’t know where. It didn’t matter. Let the city swallow him whole. Let a rogue puppet break him. Let a carcass tear him apart. He didn’t care anymore.
But the rage inside him burned like nothing else.
He fought. Everything. Anything. Until there was nothing left to fight for.
Because now, he had no purpose.
---
Time passed.
There was quiet. There was a sliver of sunlight that broke through the clouds. Maybe even peace.
And if one wandered far enough through the hollow remains of Krat, they might stumble across a beautiful puppet beneath a tree, face streaked with dried tears, unmoving, peaceful.
@bloodbrown this took so long oh my god
some things have been happening in my life and it has been kinda eh but HEYY I'M BACK
also i hope you're happy because i was banging my head against the wall tyring to think of something this boy is too precious i can't make him sad like that—
