#I'm a firm believer that Smoked Cheese is a narcist with self-steem and self-value problems

[pinkvaquita]

She deserves the better

♡ Pairing: Smoked Cheese x Mozzarella

♡ Flavor: Comfort//hurt. I still don't fucking know how to call it.

♡ Warning: Major death character <3

♡ Author’s note: SECOND SHOT OF THE NIGHT. This was ironicaly the first I wrote from all todays colections. Anyways, I fucking LOVE this two.

♡ Aqui tienes la version en español

He always believed she deserved better. She deserved so much better than him.

Every time he saw her face and got lost in those blue eyes that always smiled at him so calmly, he couldn't help but think one thing. Mozzarella deserved better.

He thought about it when she greeted him from the betting balcony at the coliseum, always finding a way to convince him to put aside his work there and instead keep her company.

He always thought about it every time she sent one of the marzipans with notes. Playful messages just like her. And inevitably she managed to get a slight smile out of him with each one.

He also thought about it when at the parties for the bureaucracy they escaped to a less crowded place. And they looked from afar at the luxury that they could enjoy in those lands.

He thought about it every time she stopped him from doing something crazy that he would regret later. Because she never seemed to even startle or fear him in those outbursts of anger that possessed him from time to time.

He thought about it every time she had to reason and mediate on his behalf, saving him from unnecessary fights.

He thought about it every time she spoke enthusiastically about something curious or funny that she saw, that she heard, that she discovered. Every time he could hear her voice speak with such intelligence.

He thought about it every time he woke up and the first thing he saw was her. So much perfection being what started his days.

And he thought about it today too. And he would have thought about it tomorrow too.

She deserved better than him. Mozzarella deserved someone who was as eloquent, as focused, as enthusiastic, as honest and loyal as she was. She deserved everything good a person could be.

She deserved someone better than the mess of self-centeredness, anger, and pettiness that he was. Since they met, Mozzarella has done nothing but make his life better. Without her, he wouldn't know what would have been to him...

He never understood why she was happy with him. He did not feel capable of giving her the same happiness that she gives him with her mere existence.

He couldn't care for her, couldn't encourage her, couldn't do anything for her in the same way.

He couldn't even protect her.

He gave his all to stop Dark Enchantress, but nothing helped...

She deserved someone who could have stopped this tragedy.

“Mozzie…” — He tried to talk to her despite how painful it was to say a word, making the effort even though more jam than words came out every time he opened his mouth.

As soon as she heard his voice, she reacted. With effort she raised her head to find the image of her beloved husband crawling through the sand and the puddle of his own jam. Her exhausted eyes, even though they should have closed by now, refused to do so. She refused to leave this world without first hearing one last word from him.

It felt like the most tortuous eternity in those short seconds. Smoked was dying between the pain of his wounds from a lost battle and the scraping of sand against his body. His hands gripped the ground as if he were clinging to the little life he had left.

But he knew it was all worth it when he was able to drop down next to her. Her face was the last thing he wanted to see, and her voice the last thing he wanted to hear. And between the tears of pain, disappointment, fear and relief...

“Mozzie…” — He called her one last time.

"Yeah?... "

"... I'm sorry"

There was a short silence, in which she seemed to process his words. And he seemed to feel that the only thing left for him was to wait for the cold of death to reach him.

“W-why are you… asking me for f-forgiveness?”— Her voice for the first time sounded confused and immersed in sadness.

When he didn't answer, Mozzarella felt her own body move on its own. She rolled slightly to get closer and speak to him face to face.

“Smoked…?”

If she had had the strength, she would have shaken her husband's limp body. She would have begged and screamed at the witches up there for a second longer. Just one more second.

Her tears began to fall when she knew the reality. She cried knowing that he was gone, that she was never able to tell him one last time, as she always did whenever those doubts and insecurities attacked him.

“... Smoked, you w-were the best thing that happened to me”