anthracinus:

lit otps ≡ the night circus: celia bowen & marco alisdair
“Please,” Marco says, refusing to let her go, his fingers holding tightly to the lace of her gown. “Please don’t leave me.”
“It’s too late,” she says. “It was too late by the time I arrived in London to turn your notebook into a dove; there were too many people already involved. Anything either of us does has an effect on everyone here, on every patron who walks through those gates. Hundreds if not thousands of people. All flies in a spiderweb that was spun when I was six years old and now I can barely move for fear of losing someone else.”
She looks up at him, lifting her hand to stroke his cheek.
“Will you do something for me?” she asks.
“Anything,” Marco says.
“Don’t come back,” she says, her voice breaking.