"Tate, please…"
A terrified-looking blonde girl found herself cornered, holding her hands up in defeat, her hazel eyes pleading. Quinn Fabray didn't know what had come over the boy who had just a week prior had seemed so normal. Quiet, but normal. Taking a small step back slowly, her back hit a wall, realizing she had nowhere left to run. She had ran as much as she could, ducking behind chairs and other things, doing her best to remain quiet and still. It made little to no sense, just days ago she had seen him reading alone, keeping to himself. Clearly, he had been planning this.
The boy had a look of calmness to him, a faint cocky smile on his lips; they never really ran when stuck like maniacs from killers in real life like how movies depicted. He had held the gun in his hands before, had fired it before. He knew what it could do, how easily it could destroy everything. Dark eyes looked to the pretty girl- his final victim. Tate had to at least give her credit, she had chosen to run, hide, even. But he knew how to play this game. Not a word was said, no matter how much the girl's silent pleads made him want to. His finger rested on the trigger as if it belonged there, raising the weapon and taking aim directly at her.
The sound of a cocking gun broke the silence, Quinn flinching and turning her head at least. Her scream lasted only a moment before it faded away. Slowly the gun was lowered, the curly-haired boy just watching her a moment. His final victim.
Wiping water off the side of her face, two hazel eyes now turned green as the girl got to her feet. "I told you I didn't want to get wet! Ow, now I have mascara in my eye, you jackass." Quinn said, wiping at her under-eye, blinking quickly to get rid of any makeup and water. All she could hear was Tate laughing, reloading the gun before offering a hand to help her to her feet. "Awe, c'mon, it was fun and you know it, Q." He teased, brushing wet bangs from her face, trying to get a small smile out of her. Eventually, she gave in, smacking him playfully on the arm. "Next time, you're the victim. You have an unfair advantage over me." "I'll have to teach you first."
Whoever had thought it was a good idea to give Tate Langdon a water gun, a hot summer day, and a girlfriend was an idiot. A brilliant idiot