He was still an idiot.

He'd thought that this would... fix him somehow. Push him to his limits and, as then maybe he'd realize that he didn't want to die.

(and then, of course, it would be too late; really, he was going to die either way what did it matter if he cared or not)

For a few hours, a few days it had worked. But it wasn't the 'pushing him to his limits' thing. It was Raymond Davis Garraty.

Raymond Davis Garraty, "Maine's Own", the boy Peter McVries had fallen in love with. Some said it wasn't possible to fall in love in such a short time. McVries thought this to be bullshit. Of course it was possible. You could fall in love with someone on the bus, or walking down the street and passing them. If you got more intimate, learned their habits and how they felt, you could fall in love even more.

And there was nothing more intimate than the Long Walk. You didn't learn people's habits quicker than when you were watching them Walk themselves to death. You could learn a lot about people that way.

For example, Hank Olson acted cocky but was really a scared little boy, probably from a hick town from the Western part of the country. His family was deeply religious; or at least he did. He believed in a God, at least.

Good for him.

He had something to look forward to.

Collie Parker was a bastard. But sincere. There was nobody more sincere and honest than Collie Parker, with his Midwestern accent and profanity-lined sentences. Peter McVries could see how some people couldn't help but be drawn to him - some people like Abraham, who thought the whole thing was a joke. Abraham was maybe a bigger dumbass than Scramm.

Scramm was sincere, too, but he was too stupid to take seriously. The most frequent emotion felt with Scramm was 'pity.'

But away from that.

Raymond Davis Garraty.

Peter McVries had had something to Walk for. He was going to get Garraty as far along on this thing as he could. He was going to help him along and keep him distracted and help him win. And then Peter McVries would die. Peter Mcvries would let Ray Garraty take the Prize.

But then Ray Garraty had died.

He'd gotten a leg cramp. Baker and Abraham had told him, and it was all McVries had to not scream at them, ask them why they hadn't done anything, why they hadn't lifted him up and carried him on their goddam backs, but that was silly. None of these boys loved Ray apart from him. And now Peter McVries was alone. He was alone, he was scared, he was tired, and he was loveless.

He knew that there was nothing to do but die. Just lie down and die. 'Sit down', as he'd told Ray.

A choked sob made its way through his chest and up his throat and out for the world to hear. He would sit down. For Ray. And then him and Ray would go and have a party in the sky. All of them would join, sooner or later. All of them except Stebbins, because McVries was certain that Stebbins would win.

He sat down then, ignoring the whispers, ignoring the "Hey, McVries is bowing out!", ignoring Barkovitch's high, shrieking laugh and "Had enough, scarface?", ignoring it all but the rain, the rain dropping down on him, running down his face and soaking into his t-shirt. He took his warnings and was shot.

Maybe he would see Ray Garraty now, and maybe they could be in love like he'd wished they could be on the Walk.

oneshots are the only thing i can write when i don't have music have some sad mcvries