Glory

Another month passed. Doctors came and told her the news happening outside: that everyone had moved on.

Everyone liked Noob Mastersixtynine (her real name was Amanda), who was apparently Kyle's girlfriend now. Glory searched herself for emotions— anger, stress, hate— and found that she just felt relief.

The Hollywood life had never fit her. Her sparkling dresses never had been special to her, and her acting had been good only because she desperately wanted to be someone else.

Stars only flashed for a few years, after all. Everybody admired their beauty and their grace and their perfection, but everybody moved on. And so would she.

"My burns," she had asked. "Will they ever heal?" She paused, and dared asking the question that had bothered her for so long. "Completely?"

The doctor had studied her seriously. "Glory. You can fix it, if you choose to. With the fortune you made in the years in Hollywood, you are one of the lucky ones that can. People will support you. But it will take years of surgery and treatment. Risks will be taken. Do you really want to be a part of that?"

She told him she would think about it. After a hard look at her, he left.

She had never thought of her beauty as something precious— it had been something granted to her, something that had seemed natural when she had it.

Now, when it was gone, she realized how important it had been. Without it, she would never have had the ability to convince Edward that she could act. She would never had the ability to become a star.

All her life she had heard that she was  beautiful. She had always smiled and thanked whoever said it, but she had always rolled her eyes afterward. It wasn't something she had worked for, and it hurt that her beauty was the only thing that people noticed about her. Or at least, what they seemed to notice.

But it was gone now. And now she realized that she should have been grateful for it. But now it was gone and it was too late.

Sometimes she looked into the mirror beside the bed and sobbed. Her entire face was red. She could only wonder how she had looked before the treatments. They were slowly turning into scars. A part of her hair had been burnt away.

Once, when she was crying, Deathbringer had come in and immediately rushed to her side.

"Glory, what's wrong?" He had asked softly. In that moment, she wanted nothing but to hug him, to pull him close, to cry in his arms— but it felt scary. What if she gave him her everything and then he refused it again?

What if he didn't want her? He hadn't wanted her before, when she was strong and beautiful. Why would she want her now, when she was so weak and ugly?

"STOP!" She screamed. "Don't come closer." She hated herself— absolutely hated herself—

She hated being weak. She hated being stuck in a hospital.  She hated it so much— she hated that Clay was dead, that a part if it had been her fault. She wanted to die.

"I'm hideous," she sobbed. The ugly tears kept coming and she couldn't help but think how ugly she must have looked. She couldn't bear to see the look on Deathbringer's face. He was probably watching her with disgust.

Deathbringer. Why would he want her? Why would anyone want her? Why would a person like him— so perfect, so handsome— want her?

"Glory," he whispered. He sat down on the bed and hugged her. She just stayed there, not melting into his arms but unable to resist. "Glory, stop it. You're not hideous."

"It's my fault Clay's dead, that Morrowseer died, that the girl— Moon— died. Nothing would have happened if I just let you kill me."

"Then where would I be? I would be killing people. I would have married Greatness. Where would I be, Glory?"

"You're perfect," she answered. You would have had a better life without me. "You would have found a way."

"The thing is, I'm not. I cry at night, too. My house is a mess. You wouldn't believe it if you saw it. I can't sleep. I'm always worried sick. Before I met you, I was just a spoiled playboy that killed people without a second thought. You helped to bring those assassins to justice. You helped to bring me to see justice."

"Stop trying to make me perfect," she whispered. She felt angry at Deathbringer, and at the same time she felt spoiled. She felt horrible for being angry at someone that was trying so hard to help her. But everything was so hard and she wanted— no, absolutely needed— to blame it on someone else.

Her voice got louder until she was shouting. "Stop saying I did the right thing. All I did was pass out and let everyone else do the work."

"Everyone played a part," he insisted. "And soon, you will accept it. In a few more weeks you will be alright and we'll go back to your home. Everyone wants to see you. If you want to see them, you can. But the first thing you have to do is accepting yourself."

Glory blinked, letting his words sink in. The first thing you have to do is accepting yourself. "Why do you want me? If you think about it...we barely know each other. I barely know anything about you."

Deathbringer stared at her for a moment and bursted out laughing. "That's actually true."

She wiped her eyes and tried to compose herself. She had been selfish for too long. She needed to help Deathbringer. She had to stop being selfish.

"What's your favorite color?" She said, shooing his arms away and leaning on the bed. She moved so he could sit on the bed next to her. He gladly did, to her relief.

He crossed his arms. "Truthfully? Black. Not because my last name or because I'm an assassin or anything." He blinked. "It's that...my mom's hair was black. Her eyes were dark, too, like mine. I think that's why I like that color."

She nodded. "She sounds like a strong woman."

He thought for a while. "Well. I guess. She wasn't exactly kind. She was harsh to everyone. But she was cool."

"Your favorite animal?" She asked.

"I'm not sure. Cats? What about you?"

Glory thought for a moment, a small smile playing on her lips. "Sloths."

Deathbrinfer chuckled. "Sloths? Your favorite animal is a sloth?"

"I plan to have a pet sloth someday. You know, I think I would like to work in nature, when all this is over."

"Are you going to go back to school after this?" Deathbringer asked after a moment of silence.

"Yeah. I would want my full education. I think I'll start watching some stuff on the internet before I go back. Are you?"

He shook his head. "Nah. I already know a lot of stuff. But maybe, just to annoy you."

Glory laughed.

Deathbringer had a small smile on his face, clearly pleased with himself. "You know, I think this isn't bad. Starting as friends, I mean. That way I'll still be here, and we'll get to know each other."

"Sounds good for me, Deathbringer."

Deathbringer stared at Glory's scarred hand. "Are friends allowed to hold hands, my dear friend?"

"I don't think so, but you can hold mine if you want, pal," Glory replied, staring at her scarred fingers.

"Thanks, buddy," Deathbringer snorted. And then he took her hand, and just like that, they held onto each other.

"Thanks for sticking with me, chum," she said, smiling. Friends. Starting as friends seemed like a good idea.

"I'll always be here for you, mate," he replied.

"Same here, Deathy," she said. And then she closed her eyes and smiled. He leaned on the wall. They didn't talk more that night.

But that moment, she felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

~

Yeah. Here's the Glorybringer moment you all have been waiting for!

They're...friends...

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA

(Do I seem evil to you yet)