back to the beginning 


eleven never thanked clara the way he should have. the thought to do it never made it through his thick skull and into his clever, messy, distracted brain, never fazed him, and never made him pause. he was fast and ancient and lonely, selfish because he allowed this woman to sacrifice herself for him over and over again, and each time he saw her face, he couldn’t stop his hearts from beating too quickly in his chest. 

twelve, however, was a very different man. he was still the doctor, was never cruel nor cowardly, and was still, at the core of him, the same in essence. but with the change in his face came the change in priorities, and clara oswald suddenly became number one. 

he wanted to thank her. he wanted to make it clear to her that he cared for her, and cherished her, and knew what she had done, and does, and will do for him time and time again. he wanted to thank her perfectly, to make a show of it, and put as much effort into her as she did into him. he wanted to take his time and do it right, but unfortunately, the secret was, she didn’t have much time with him to begin with. 

her death was sudden, inevitable, and completely unbearable. humans were fragile, their skin thin like paper and their lungs small and weak, like tiny birds or infant mammals. the doctor’s emotions were frayed, raw, and overwhelming. when he saw her face, drained of life and happiness and, most of all, the knowledge of being noticed, loved, and wanted, his knees went weak, and he found himself harshly knelt on the ground beside her. 

clara was light in his arms, light and cold and gone too soon before her time. he rocked her body back and forth, as if in some sort of daze, lips moving against her hair, whispers being absorbed by her dead skin. 

thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…”

it was an atrocity that she would never hear it. 


{ the scent of autumn time }

Top ten favourite Teen Wolf Characters, as voted by my followers:
#7: Isaac.