ARC'S POV:
   The rain hasn't stopped. Not really. It's lighter now, more of a mist than a downpour, but it still feels like the sky is mourning.
   I haven’t moved from this bench in the park. Not since Aurora left. Not since she screamed at me like I was the villain in her story. Maybe I am.
    I don't even feel the water soaking through my shirt anymore. My skin is numb. My thoughts are scattered, each one more painful than the last.
   Her voice plays on repeat in my head; shaking, broken, furious.
"Your father killed my parents."
I clutch the back of my neck, fingers digging in until it hurts.
She looked at me like I was him. Like I pulled the trigger.
   And maybe that’s what hurts the most. Not that she hates me. Not that she ran. But that for a split second, she saw me as the monster who ruined her life.
   I exhale hard and stand up, the soles of my boots making a sharp sound on the soaked pavement. I don't know where I'm going, but I can't stay here. Not where her voice is echoing off every tree and swing set.
   I walk for a while. Through streets that blur into one another. Past blinking traffic lights and foggy storefronts. I pull out my phone and stare at the screen. I don’t even realize I dialed him until it starts ringing.
He picks up on the second ring.
   "Took you long enough to call me, asshole," Dron says, voice rough with sleep and something else I can’t quite place. "What the hell is going on over there?"
   I sink down on a concrete ledge, rub my hand over my face. "Shit just went down and I don't even know what to do about it."
"What happened?" The teasing nature in his voice leaves while concern takes over. 
   "My parents came over. I wanted her to meet them. The next thing I know, she running away." 
   "Did you find out why?"
"Yeah. You remember the great war? My dad had killed her parents then. She somehow saw it in a vision.
A pause. "That's some mad shit. What do you intend to do about it now?"
   "I tried to talk to her, Dron. She doesn't want to even see my face."
   "But you are not even the one at fault. You also didn't know about it." Dron replied, resigned.
   "Yeah. That doesn't matter because now she hates me."
"You sure she said that?"
   "She didn’t have to. It was in her eyes, Dron. You should’ve seen her. I tried to talk to her and she... she hit me. Over and over like she was trying to punish me for something I didn’t even do."
"Damn."
   I drag in a breath. It catches halfway through.
   "I couldn’t even stop her. I just stood there. Let her do it. I didn’t know what else to do."
"You did the right thing," Dron says quietly. "She needed to let it out."
    "She said she wants to kill him. My father."
"...Wouldn't blame her."
"Don’t say that."
    "I’m just saying, he deserves it. You know what your dad’s done. What he keeps doing."
   I close my eyes and lean my head back against the wall. "It doesn’t matter what he’s done. She looks at me like I’m a reflection of him."
"Then show her you're not".
"I don’t know if she’ll ever look at me the same way again."
    Dron sighs. "Arc, look. If she’s anything like the way you talk about her and you talk about her like she's the damn moon and stars, then she’s hurting right now, not gone. You hear me? She’s hurting. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you."
   The word catches in my throat. Love.
Do I love her?
Yes. No hesitation and maybe that’s what terrifies me the most.
    "You need to tell her everything," Dron says, softer now. "About the past. About your father. About what you knew. Don’t leave her in the dark anymore. It’ll only feed the space between you."
   "But I only knew that her parents must have died in the Great War. I didn't know my father killed her parents."
   "But you suspected it and that counts for something."
   "I don't understand. Was I supposed to tell her 'oh, I'm suspecting that my dad killed your parents'." I reply sarcastically.
   "That doesn't matter now, does it?"
I rub my thumb against my temple. "What if it’s already too late?"
   "Then you fight to prove it isn’t. Or you’ll regret it the rest of your life."
I look up at the sky. Still gray. Still weeping.
Still mine to walk beneath.
"Thanks," I whisper.
    "Anytime, man. Just don't ghost me again or I swear I'll show up and kick your ass myself." I crack a smile. Barely.
But it's something.
    I end the call and sit there, watching the world pass by while mine stands still. My hands tremble as I pull out the chain around my neck.... the one with my mother’s ring on it. I grip it hard until the metal digs into my palm.
   "I’m not him," I whisper to myself. "I’m not my father." But I know words alone won’t fix this. Only actions will and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to prove that to her.
   Even if it means facing the man who broke her. Even if it means breaking myself to do it.