A Double Arts Fic
This story is the tale of one young boy
(And one young girl)
Who held in their hands
(Or rather, between them)
The power to make, or to break, the world
In These Hands
There was no such thing as privacy, anymore.
Dozens of things that had been taken for granted (like going to the bathroom, getting dressed, and taking showers) were now a menagerie of massively awkward moments.
Her hands cramped up terribly, her palms sweat, the tips of her fingers tingled until she they felt like little more than limp lead weights.
But she didn't mind, not in the least. Not just because of knowledge of certain death if she let go, although that did play a part.
It was when she looked at his face, saw his smile, watched his hands shake like hers, that she understood. Whatever they would go through, they would go through it together.
So that was why, when she saw his steady hand reach for her through blurred, convulsing eyes, she grabbed it like the lifeline it was.
The spasms stopped.
"You ready?" He said.
"Always." She replied.
The assassin ran towards them; his knives shown bright in the moonlight.
They smiled as one, and began to dance.