A/N – I know, this isn't what you want from me, but trust me when I say I had to write this so I didn't ruin the Valentine's Day thing. It's angst. Nothing but angst. Very painful angst. Read at your own risk, but please comment if you do.
If Love Did Look Like Anything
"Have we not come to such an impasse in the modern world that we must love our enemies - or else?" - Martin Luther King Jr.
It was an interesting position to be in.
"Choose," the voice demanded again.
All I could see was her face. Her eyes, mostly.
Why was I being asked to choose? It wasn't even a choice.
"Me," my voice came out steady, sure. "Shoot me."
To his credit, he looked surprised. Not at all disappointed, not argumentative. But surprised. And grateful.
"This one I did not see coming," the voice admitted.
It was annoying to be tied down in a room with a distorted voice calling all the shots. I was going to die an annoyed man.
"Never hurt her," I ordered, meeting his eyes.
He nodded, clearly not knowing what to say.
"Tell her I loved her," I added, suddenly needing him to realize it. "Please."
He nodded again and for some reason I believed him.
A person dressed all in black entered the room. He or she, I couldn't tell which, was completely covered. The only thing that really stood out from the fabric was the gun held firmly in its right hand.
"Johnny," he muttered, making me meet his eyes again.
He almost looked... Sad.
"Thank you," he whispered.
I smirked. What else could I do?
"Make it count," I said simply, not needing to expand.
The person in black had let us have the moment and now was in front of me. I was literally staring down the barrel of a gun.
"Any final thing to add?" the bodiless voice asked.
"This certainly wasn't the first time I found myself in this situation. But it was the first time I wasn't scared.
"Tell Lulu," I began, realizing I should take the chance to say her name one last time. "Tell her I was at peace with my decision. She'll need to know."
His face fell, confusion set in, and for the first time he seemed to oppose the decision I had made.
The gun cocked.
"Wait!" he called out.
"Shoot me," I ordered, not willing to let him ruin this.
"No," the voice bellowed. "Let him speak."
I scowled as the figure in front of me lowered the gun.
"She won't forgive me," he said sadly. "She'll blame me. And then she'll hate me."
"She won't," I argued. "Tell her I don't want her to."
"It won't matter," he replied. "Because she loves you, too."
My eyes shut.
Of course she did. I knew she did. There could never be a time when we didn't love each other. We could ignore it. We could put it away. We could love other people, even.
But we loved each other.
We always had.
"Shoot me," I said again.
"No!" he screamed.
"Dante," I bit out. "Tell her I want her to forgive you. And to love you. Tell her... Tell Lulu if love did look like anything... It would look like this."
He took a breath.
Thought it over.
And nodded.
"Fine," the voice said. "Shoot him."
They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die.
I don't know who they are, but per usual, they're idiots.
The only thing that flashed before my eyes was the spark inside the chamber as the bullet created friction with the metal of the gun.
And then it was over.
"Love is stronger than death even though it can't stop death from happening, but no matter how hard death tries it can't separate people from love." - Anonymous