Your name is Snowman and you see everything now.
You see him with the white carapacian, the cute little woman with the the wide eyes and quivering lips. You see him get embarassed and take off the pair of horns he found. She is shaking like a leaf, and he reassures her that she is safe. You see him become angry when he learns she had been hurt. You see him inquire about her plans, and touch her shoulder. You see them join hands as they go throught the hall.
You remember your last few hours with him. He and his Crew had infiltrated The Felt mansion for about the hundreth remember the Midnight Crew killing nearly all of the leprechauns. You remember he saved you for last. He would be the one to kill you. You wouldn't have wanted it any other way, to be honest. He was the only one worthy of ending your life.
You remember when you walked in on their gunfight, how they all ceased fire. You went right up to Slick, taunting him, and stuck your cigarette holder right in his eye, knowing he could do nothing about it. Knowing it was not a mortal wound, just a message. You always knew you were able to get under his skin like noone else could. You had the power to touch him like noone else did.
You remember when you caught him fooling around, pretending to joust. You saw how embarassed and angry he got when he saw you had seen him. You knew he cared how he looked to you, if only for the reason that you would add it of your list of things to tease him about.
You remember tearing his arm of with your black inches, getting your cigarette holder back.
You remember when he approached you with the crowbar. You were ready for a painful death, then. You took a puff from your cigareete holder, it bloodying your lips from the wound to his expected the blunt force of the weapon but was surprised by the crush of his lips against yours, both becoming red with blood and passion.
You remember him trashing Scratch's house after he seperated you. Destroyed a bunch of very nice clocks. You think it was out of the anger of your seperation and his orders to kill her, but you fear he imagined the clocks to be you as he felled them. You knew of his anger of being ordered to do something against his will, and by Scratch of all people? He would be infuriated. Perhaps he just had to work up the nerve to get the job done, though he did have plenty of chances, even if it would destroy the universe.
But he waited. He waited, and was punished. You knew he got a fierce drubbing from Scratch. He was supposed to kill you, not kiss you. You knew the next time you two met, it would be the last.
You waited for him on the roof, waited for you death and the death of the universe. It had to happen. You both knew this, and you were at peace with it. If your death had such an important purpose, and would be at the hands of such a person as him, you could die easily and without regret. He arrived with Scratch's gun. You knew to prolong the act would only make it more difficult for the both of you. "What are you waiting for?" you asked. "Draw, Spades."
He did so, with his usually scowling face revealing nothing of his feelings.
You remember crumbling toground as the bullet hit you, an saw him be propelled off the building as the world fell apart. You lay still as your blue blodd pulled around you. You remember you died alone, with your lips still remember his and your body cold without his arms around them. You knew you would never be warm again. You closed your eyes for the last time, catching a last glimpse of a universe ending, a universe ended by two black lovers with too little time.
You look at him now from wherever you are, and you see him being so warm to his new red lover, so considerate and protective. You remember when you were the only one that mattered to him, the only one he truly respected and was equal with. You remember how warm he made you feel, and you always knew how to make him feel so fierce and hot towards you. You'd give him an inch and he'd take a mile. After all you'd been through together, as queen and archagent, as mobster and mobster, and finally as as eight ball and sinker, you know made an imprint on his life, and he on yours.
You see him with her, and you know his intentions with this woman are different. You hope they will be happy together, that they have everything you couldn't. You hope they get through that mess they are stuck in, and are able to settle down together and maybe have little black and white carapace babies.
Though you truly wish the best for them, you cannot help but be envious. Envious of what will be between them, how they can succeed where you failed. How she will have him and you will not. How they will hold each other while you hold nothing. You know that it hurts, and you are glad you are dead so he can not see your pain. You wish him to not fuck up what he has with her, so that he will be worthy of your feelings, and you won't end up being just the first in a line of meaningless connections of his. You remember being with him, and you remember always knowing it had to come to an end.
Your name is Snowman and you remember when he was yours.