Usually the coolness of Mirrorwalking was refreshing—calming. Tonight it just felt like steam on his skin. He hadn't had a destination in mind when he left her house, though wound up in Mirrorspace. Again.

He was sick of this place.

While he usually took such pride in his appearance, it just angered him to see himself like this. What was so wrong with this? Why was this such a big deal? What had this…

He was not good with emotions. He had never been. It was hard enough to work through them when you were happy, but now?

The knots in his stomach had worsened, and with them came an overwhelming sense of emptiness. Like he was starving, hadn't eaten for days. His hands were shaking, and there was a cold numbness prickling across his skin. A lump in his throat hurt—burned. It felt like he'd inhaled a large amount of smoke recently. His vision was blurry, though he had no intention of acknowledging that.

Remarque did not want to look at the mirrors, nor did he wish to leave Mirrorspace. He didn't trust himself anywhere else. Where else could he go? Home? To an empty house? What friends he had dwindled in numbers. These days, he knew knights better than he knew the friends he'd grown up with.

A sharp stab from his stomach broke him from his thoughts, though it was no relief. Moving across the space, he had intended to just make a table. A chair. A bed. Some piece of furniture. Just let him sit there and try to process this.

The end result wasn't anything amazing; a simple chair that formed beneath his outstretched hand.

He could make a plan. He could fix this. Everything could be fixed.

Raven's voice invaded his mind; "I'm done."

He scoffed into the silence of Mirrorspace; it echoed strangely. Done? Didn't want to see him?

Lip twitching, he gripped the back of the chair, digging his nail into the strange gray material.

Purple and green stuck out in the smoky white of Mirrorspace. Even when looking at the ground he could see himself in a mirror out of the corner of his eyes.

Didn't want to see him.

He didn't want to see himself.

With one hand, he lifted the chair and hurled it at the mirror. There was little satisfaction when it shattered, leaving only a bare wall beneath it.

Little satisfaction. But it was something.

And he was craving something.

Though the mirror was shattered, there were still more. And he was still angry. The chair was still in one piece, so he made it an experiment to see just how durable it was. He gripped it once more and swung it at the next nearest mirror.

Six mirrors later, the back of the chair broke from the seat, and both pieces lost all durability. They turned to smoke and disappeared.

But that had been one chair. Remarque could make as many as he could imagine.

He didn't know how many he went through, or how many mirrors he shattered, though he knew that at the end of it he was entirely winded. His muscles were sore, and each breath was accompanied with a sharp, stabbing.

It was only when he was close to depleting every ounce of energy he had that that he dropped the chair. His eyelids felt heavy and some nagging voice in the back of his mind was telling him, 'You shouldn't have done that.'

He knew he shouldn’t have. But he didn't care. He'd do it again. He would go all night like this if he had to. If that's what it took not to think about Raven. No one was around, so he allowed himself to rest against the wall. Glass dug into his back, but the pain was minimal. There was blood on his sleeves again, and when he looked at his hands they were covered in small shards and slivers.

He didn't feel it.

For a few moments he stood there before his breathing had calmed enough that he could focus on pulling out the glass. It was ungraceful and unrefined, and he pulled the glass out with his fingers. The smaller shards would push themselves out. He didn't have the patience to use tweezers.

Maybe Raven would..

He went rigid at the thought, but it was hard to be angry when you didn't have the energy.

The thought still hurt, though.

Was this really any better? Being dumped? It was a crippling thought in itself—that he hadn't been good enough. That he'd tried his hardest—always tried his hardest—to give her everything she had wanted. Even when he was investing himself as much as humanly possible, this is what it had turned into.

He wasn't good enough.

Because of the Court? He was good enough for the Court. If he had learned anything about himself tonight, it was that he was good for the Court.

But what did it matter without her?

Was she going to change her mind? Could he sit idly by and wait? He clung to the thought. That this couldn't be the end. That she was just having a fit. Everything would be fine come morning.

He'd have a text, an apology. She'd call him stupid, and they'd talk, and then it would be perfect.

They'd move in together, still be engaged.

She'd smile at him again.

Time was still again. Remarque's head hung.

Not telling her about his and Leto's plan to raid Mirrorspace might have spared her life, but he'd still lost her, hadn't he?

They'd been on the rocks for too long. He knew how much she had hated the Court. How angry she was that he spent all of his time there. This had been out of his control, but he knew what it looked like to her.

Remarque had never been one to give up. He'd invested so much time and love into this relationship. No, he refused to think it was over. At least for tonight. She'd change her mind. She had to. She just needed some time to sleep on it. He'd have a text in the morning. Everything was going to be okay, then. He couldn’t think of it.

He couldn't allow that fear to control him.

And he was afraid. No matter how much he tried to deny it to himself, he was terrified. And heartbroken. For a man who lived with the logic of fear nothing, love nothing, regret nothing…he'd done all of the above, in one night. It was a painful reminder, and yet he was still clinging to the logic that in the morning things were going to be okay.

He wasn't ready to say goodbye. He'd draw it out for as long as he had to, but this couldn't be the last of it.

She had always surprised him. Always been a pushy, passionate reminder that there was more to life than the Court. She kept him on his toes, kept him happy. Showed him that there wasn't any harm in falling love. That it made you stronger. Made you do things you never thought you could do.

She made him a better person. Kept him under control. On the right track.

Was everything he could ever dream of.

This was going to work out.

Otherwise…

Who was he without her?