"I love you but I never did tell..." the small boy whispered to himself.
The blue-eyed brunette was sitting on the edge of his bed, drapped in black and red sheets. He had a pistol next to him, shimering with malicious sins.
"You want me...dead...just for your own pleasure..." he adressed the blonde in his door way. Oh how he loved those piercing blue eyes. Those eyes that undressed him. The eyes that threw darts at him. Those cold eyes...that pictured his body mangled and bloody.
"If you're gonna do it Sora, hurry the hell up." The older replied in a irritated and impatiant tone. God damn him... that cold bastard.
"...get out, Roxas. Just...FUCKING GET OUT OF MY LIFE!" Sora screamed at his so called lover. It hurt to say those words... those heart-aching words. He wanted to take them back... but he couldn't now. He knew Roxas 'loved him' (more so his body and nothing else) but he would never, EVER change for Sora sake. He would always be cold and sadistic.
"WHY DON'T YOU!?" Roxas shouted back, stepping into the room, in front of Sora and slapping him right across the face. His nails left gashes in the other boy's cheek.
Sora did not react. There was that same blank look Roxas hated. He just wanted to smash Sora's beautiful face into something hard. Maybe the fridge? No, maybe some cement. Asphalt worked too, preferably with something sharp sticking out of it, like some fence wires or something. And perhaps there will be some clean eye sockets involved, or a blood red pupil in the least.
Roxas snapped out of his gorish day dream and realized Sora had moved. He was now picking up the pistol and pointing it at the blonde. "You wouldn't dare." he snarled, malice dripping from those hateful words.
"You're right," Sora started, now putting the pistol to his own head. "I'm not dumb enough to take you to the afterlife with me." Those were his final words before he pulled the trigger.
Blood flew and splattered on the wall, bed, and even Roxas who now stood in front of his deceased sex toy. He watched as blood continued to flow from the open bullet hole in that mess of coffee colored spikes.
"So long, sucker." He smirked, and then left the room.