A/N: A 100-word angst challenge.

The last time he sees her, she's kissing him. His other self. He watches him wrap his arms around her, a perfectly suited copy of himself, able to age with her. Able to spend the rest of his life with her without the heartbreak of immortality.

He remembers the first time he latched onto her, a hand in the basement of an overrun department store. Now he watches himself hold her tightly and knows he'll never see her again. A tiny voice in the back of his mind panics and whispers, "run," so he does.

And now he can't stop.